Comparing Naxos and Paros, although neighbors in the Aegean, was like comparing squid and olives. Naxos was mountainous and craggy; Paros was rolling and mellow.
Nick had a surprise for Honey; one he knew would delight her. He also planned to chip away at her resolve once again and he hoped to take it as far as it would go. They would make love this day; it was time.
Now, they were both quiet as they passed ancient olive groves and unspoiled country villages. Occasionally they met a farmer leading a donkey laden with fresh wares, obviously on his way to market.
They stopped to rest at a well, and bought a loaf of bread from a farmer’s wife that they would add to their lunch of retsina, dried fish and figs.
“Are we there yet? I’m beginning to perspire.” Honey sounded irritable, for they had been walking uphill for nearly a half hour.
He stopped, allowing her to catch her breath. “See that?” He pointed toward the top of the hill where there was a long, flat whitewashed wall with an ancient bell tower.
She shielded her eyes against the sun. “It looks like a church.”
“It’s a monastery. It isn’t occupied anymore, but in the old days, it would have been fortified and used as a place of refuge for the villagers against pirates and other marauders. There’s a natural spring inside.”
Her face brightened. “There’s fresh water in there?”
He smiled at her eagerness. “Indeed. And,” he added, digging into the basket, “I’ve brought the soap.” This was his surprise.
“A bath,” she exclaimed with almost child-like glee. Fortified by the prospect of it, she hiked up her skirt and nimbly scampered over the rocks to the door of the monastery.
Nick studied her slim ankles and calves and felt a hunger to uncover more.
There was a slight dankness to the air inside the structure, undoubtedly from the springs that kept the air and many of the rocks moist. Although the spring itself was surrounded by stone walls, there was no roof, so sunshine streamed in and warmed the rocks. Water bubbled from openings between them, rolling down to create a gentle, tepid pool at the base.
The surroundings, whether it was the privacy of the location or the realization that she was going to bathe, made Nick want Honey with a fierceness that no longer surprised him.
She turned and gazed at him, her expression filled with rapture. “Oh, Nick, I simply must take full advantage of this.”
He gave her an exaggerated bow. “Be my guest.”
“But, Nick?”
His gaze met hers. “What is it?”
She looked away. “You won’t stay in here, will you?”
His hunger ebbed slightly. “Of course I won’t. I’ll be outside.”
“Oh, thank you!” She laughed a melodious, almost joyful laugh, then ran to him and hugged him.
Their gazes met again, and Nick could barely breathe.
The pulse at the base of her throat throbbed. His hunger surged.
She wet her lips.
His fingers grazed her chin.
She closed her eyes.
He bent to kiss her.
“No.” Her voice was breathy and her gaze pleading as she pushed him away. “Please, Nick. I can’t.”
He swung away and strode toward the door, angry with himself for wanting her and angry with her for standing her ground.
Once he was outside, he knew he couldn’t simply walk away. He had never been a voyeur, until now. He wasn’t proud of it but he wanted her so fiercely that if he couldn’t actually have her, he had to watch her. His need for her was too great to ignore.
From a spot near the top of the wall he could see the interior, yet remain unseen.
She carefully folded each piece of clothing and put it on a dry rock. Each time she bent over, her perfect breasts with their pale nipples jiggled sweetly. When she turned away, he examined her tiny waist and curvaceous hips. Her legs were shapely, womanly, and not coltish. She turned again to face him, and the mouth-watering caramel patch of curls between her thighs made him hard.
He hadn’t been down there yet, not with his tongue. He imagined how she would taste; he had dreamt about it. He pictured her lying on her back with her legs spread, or perched on the edge of the bed with her legs spread, or sitting in a chair, a leg slung over each arm. Over and over again he tried to visualize how she would feel down there, how her sweet, slippery inner lips would feel against his tongue, how she would react to the sensation he could create by rubbing his tongue over her vulva and her perfect clitoris.
A nasty thought entered his head: Apollo Christophides would crawl between those thighs and have access to that clitoris. Would she spread them eagerly? Would she draw his head closer, imprisoning it? Would she scream in ecstasy when she achieved her orgasm?
A splash jerked him back to the present, and he pushed away the idiotic possessive anger that surged through him.
He watched as Honey dove into the pool, disappeared for a moment, and then emerged, her hair dark, sleek and wet as it streamed down her back. She swam to the edge and picked up the soap.
She ducked to her shoulders and made a sound that resembled a swoon, and then stood. Her nipples had tightened and droplets of water clung to them as if they, like Nick, wanted to become a part of her. She rubbed the soap between her palms, creating lather, and then lifted each breast and washed it. Now soapy bubbles clung to her nipples, hugging them as the water had, as if reluctant to let go.
He knew the feeling.
He watched her soap up, stopping the urge to wade in and do it for her. She stood, and he noticed that her wet pubic fur curled into tight little ringlets.
She soaped her stomach, inching toward her pelvis; his cock hardened and his scrotum tightened beneath his trousers and he shifted them to one side of the seam for comfort.
She dipped the soap between her legs and he had to close his eyes against his need for her. He wanted to do that for her. He wanted to soap up his hands and run them over her body, moving down over her navel to her furry nest and dip his fingers inside. He wanted to find her nub thick and swollen; he wanted to experience her orgasm, feel her vagina open, and then thrust his cock inside her.
He shuddered and opened his eyes, and the heat at his groin nearly burst into flame.
She stood next to the side of the pool where the water was shallowest. Her eyes were closed and she was rubbing herself with the soap.
Nick envisioned the succulent pink lips as she moved them aside to touch herself deeper. Her eyes were half-closed, her expression sultry. Her cheeks were stained pink, the flush spreading to her neck.
Her breathing became rapid as her orgasm began its journey through her, and then she clutched the side of the pool and uttered a strangled cry as the pleasure rolled over her.
She opened her eyes, and found his gaze. “You promised,” she said, loud enough for him to hear.
“No. I only promised to stay outside; I didn’t promise not to watch.” He took the ragged steps to the stone floor.
She turned away, ducked under the water again, and then stood and washed her hair. “You are no gentleman.”
“No, I am no gentleman,” he agreed. “I am a man who wants you with a need I’ve never known before.”
She dove beneath the water and rinsed her hair, and then waded to the side and pulled herself up on the ledge just above the water. She picked up the towel he had brought for her and began drying her hair. “I suppose you’re pleased that because of you, I had to satisfy myself.”
“Because of me?”
She peeked out from beneath the towel, her expression grim. “Had I never met you, I wouldn’t be feeling the way I am.”
“Then you should let me help you satisfy those feelings.”
Once again she glared at him. “I told you, I will not.”
He saw that the tiny patches of russet hair beneath each arm matched the thatch of curls between her legs. “Are you going to just sit there, naked?”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you going to simply stand there, staring?”
He smothered a smile. “I would rather be a participant, but if I cannot be one, I will satisfy myself with watching.”
She did not look at him. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”
“I think I do. How was your orgasm?”
She flushed again. “It’s your fault; I would never have done such a thing if you hadn’t planted the seed in my mind yesterday.”
He stopped a smile. “Did you enjoy it?”
She wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Now that it’s over, I’m ashamed of myself.”
“But it felt good, didn’t it, Honey? Moving your fingers over your beautiful pink lips, finding your sweet nub hard as a kernel of corn.”
“Stop! It felt good, and now it’s over.” She was nearly in tears. “This is what you’ve resorted me to, pleasuring myself. God, but I hate you.”
Her anger was catchy. “Have you any idea how much I want you? Have you any clue what watching you does to me? Even clothed you make me hard. Seeing you naked, watching as you touch the very places I want to touch, drives me nearly insane. I want you with a desire that makes no earthly sense to me. I’ve desired women before, and after I’ve had them, they no longer interest me.”
She forced herself to be calm, but in truth, she wanted to burst into tears and scream at him. She continued to dry her hair with the towel, ignoring her own nudity. “And, I take it I still interest you?”
He cursed, loud and long, but said no more.
She laughed, although it was an effort, for she wanted to cry. “I take that as a yes. Now, will you please leave so I can dress?”
“No, I will not leave.” He began to undress. “I, too, need to bathe.”
She hurriedly put on her clothes. “I shall wait for you outside.”
“As you wish,” he answered, removing the last of his clothing and diving into the deepest end of the pool.
She stepped out into the sunshine, reveling in the heat. She found a slab of stone and sat down, threading her fingers through her hair to dry it. She could hear him splashing around inside.
She wanted to watch him as he had watched her.
Have you no shame?
No, she had no more shame. It was gone. She wanted him with as much fierceness as he claimed to want her. She couldn’t fight it any longer. She hated him, but she wanted him. Once she left him, she would forget him. She would become the wife of a man she did not know, but she would be faithful, once they were wed.
Until then, she was shameless and she could do absolutely nothing to change that.
She got up and went to the spot near the top of the wall where she had found him watching her.
He stood proudly in the pool, his sun-warmed and sun-tanned body glistening. The sight of his penis bobbing freely sent a pang of need deep inside her. She knew she was going insane. This was all insanity. Insanity.
He ran the soap through his hair and scrubbed it, the sculpted muscles in his upper arms flexing.
He then soaped his thickening pole and the sac between his thighs and Honey merely stared, wondering again how any man could be so perfectly made.
She glanced up and saw that he watched her. Knowing it would be foolish to pretend she wasn’t, she stared back at him.
“Are you looking at my Captain Standish?”
“Captain Standish?”
He waggled his penis at her. “This,” he explained, “is Captain Standish.”
She took up a cocky stance. “And what if I was? You watched me.”
“Are you enjoying it as much as I did?”
Her self-gratification had done nothing to appease her desire for him. “And what if I am?”
“Then, come down here and let’s do things right.”
She hated herself; she loathed him.
Her blood ran like hot syrup through her veins; she needed him to complete her.
She met him at the water’s edge.
“Take off your drawers,” he demanded.
She slid them off and kicked them away.
“Lie down on the towel.”
She did as he asked and waited for another order.
“Lift up your skirt and petticoat.”
She hiked them to her waist, feeling the cool breeze rush over her heated flesh.
“Spread your legs.”
She spread them wide and watched as he raised her legs to his naked shoulders. When he paused, she looked at him and frowned.
He smiled. “One day I’m going to make love to you with my tongue.”
Her smile was brief, her arousal at a peak. “Cunnilingus?”
“Exactly,” he said as he ran a finger over her swollen and wet inner lips.
She shuddered, moving her hips as her need grew. “Please, please.”
He entered her then, driving deep.
Her orgasm began immediately, pushing her toward the edge of reason, permeating every nerve, every cell, until she could hold back no longer, and she screamed as the waves of pleasure splashed over her.
She felt his seed batter her womb and she wept.
They ate lunch beside the spring. The bread they’d purchased from the farmer’s wife had a wonderful crispy crust, and was tasty and soft inside.
As they made their way slowly back to the Athena, Honey realized that she had spent most of her waking hours with Nick. They were together all the time, yet she admitted she couldn’t seem to be with him enough. When he was out of her sight, she craned her neck looking for a glimpse of him. She went topside while they sailed, watching him handle the sails, marveling at his strength and dexterity among the booms and ropes.
She refused to think about leaving him, although leave him she would. But there was nausea in the pit of her stomach when she realized that their journey was almost at an end. Only one more major stop before they sailed for Crete, and her husband-to-be.
The thought didn’t thrill her. It did, however, temporarily dampen her desires.