Hey guys!
As promised, I am back! I've been working on By the Bay lately because it's the story that has inspired me the most. But not to worry, all you fans of Colorblind and Alex. Those stories aren't far from my mind, and I'm still brainstorming for ideas on how to continue/end them.
Anywho, I hope you enjoy the latest of BTB. Don't forget to rate and comment! Thank you very muchly for reading (:
Love,
L.
The rest of dinner passed without incident. Meera was silent and brooding as she usually was when upset, and Jay and Anita had no trouble filling the silence with little snippets of their lives.
Jay told her about his childhood, his brother and half-sister and the adventures they'd all had as children. He also told her of his second mother, Ruby, whom he adored beyond imagination. But when she asked of his birth mother, Anita could feel reluctance emanating from him. So she changed the subject.
She told him of the village she grew up in and of the nice people she knew. She talked about her previous jobs and how she'd loved or hated each one. And she also told him how she'd once thought she'd grow up to marry her uncle because it was conventional to. She laid out her story in front of him over dinner, painstakingly avoiding the subject of her mother.
It didn't escape their notice that they were both uncomfortable speaking of their mothers.
"I'm tired, ka. I think I'll go to bed."
Anita flushed guiltily at the sound of Meera's voice. In truth, she'd almost forgotten her sister had been at the table. Jay's presence had captured all her attention and she'd almost memorized every word that had slipped past his lips over dinner. She wanted to know everything about him, and then some more.
"Goodnight," she called to Meera as her sister disappeared into the kitchen. She turned back to Jay and found that his eyes were on her. Her gaze drifted to his lips, supple and inviting in the lamplight. She wanted to feel his lips on hers again in a kiss as unending as the one they'd shared on the beach that morning. Anita's hands began to tremble slightly at that thought. She wanted his scent to seep into her skin and into her memory. She
wanted
, for once in her life. She wanted him.
Neither party said a word for a few tense seconds. They waited for a door to be shut, to know that Meera was out of the picture. She watched as the color of Jay's eyes changed – from a mild green to a dark, thick emerald. Anita didn't know if it was the cozy atmosphere or the wine he'd poured for her or the glitter in his eyes, but she felt something absolutely sinful curl in her tummy. She pressed a trembling hand over her abdomen just as she heard a soft click of the door in the distance.
He met her halfway. It was like a dam of desire had been unleashed, and lust flowed over them as they tried to get as close to each other as possible. Jay's lips slanted over hers repeatedly, his fingers threading into her hair. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, and the slight stinging sensation drove him on.
He wrapped an arm around her waist and lifted her to the table, stepping between her legs with expert efficiency. When Anita felt his thighs brush against the inner flesh of hers, she gasped into his mouth leaned back from his embrace with uncertainty. Her hesitance lasted only for a second, however. Apprehension slipped her mind as his lips began trailing kisses over her cheek and jaw.
She felt feverish. Like her dress was too tight. She could feel Jay's hands on her waist, its warmth making her tremble ever so slightly. His kisses were quick, hot, exciting as they trailed down her neck and collar. Her fingers curled around his nape and her eyes closed. She lost herself to the feeling of someone wanting her in return.
When his teeth closed on her earlobe and nibbled tenderly, she couldn't help the moan that escaped her lips. It was like tiny pinpricks of pleasure spread from the point where he was biting her, all the way to her femininity. She felt so open for he was standing between her legs, but it made her feel wanton. Like a woman. She trembled for the hundredth time in five minutes and clung to him as he made her feel like she was about to come apart in his arms.
"You're trembling," he whispered in her ear, his voice ragged and hot.
"I know. It's your fault," she chastised. "Your hands..."
She wanted to scream for him to continue his caresses, to continue the magic he played upon her body. But he simply held her against his chest, and she felt his heartbeat slowing. There was a dull, empty throb at the apex of her thighs that she found peculiar and frustrating.
"We'll continue this in the bedroom."
With that, he lifted her into his arms and started for the stairs.
*
Well, it didn't turn out as romantically as he'd planned it. Before he was able to get her into his room, she remembered that the doors and windows weren't locked and that the dirty dishes were still on the table. So he had to let her go as she tidied the bloody house.
He groused about it for the first ten minutes, until he realized that he could still salvage the situation. In the bottom drawer of his writing desk were extra candles in case the oil lamps burned out in the middle of the night. If he remembered correctly, the candles were scented and were perfect for making the room cozy and romantic.
He placed the candles at strategic positions and lit them. The room took on a warm glow and the cinnamon and rose scents made it smell like their own little heaven. The gift he'd purchased for her lay on the dresser, glinting sapphire and gold in the candlelight. He couldn't wait for her to wear it for him. He knew she'd look spectacular in it.
After he'd set the room, he stood near the balcony, not knowing what to do with himself. He considered fussing with the bedsheets or heading downstairs to get them a bottle of wine to refuel the mood, but it all seemed so artificial as compared to the fire that lingered between them. With his past lovers, yes, there had been wooing, teasing and the façade of courtship, but with Anita, it was elemental. She wanted nothing but him. Not his money, not his title, just him. And their shared passion was the aggressor in their relationship.
A slight breeze rolled into the room, and he could see and hear the rustle of the palm trees in the distance. There was a full moon that night, and he jested with himself that the moon had to be the reason for the mad passion burning inside him. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorframe of the balcony, waiting for her appearance at the door.
It was a few more minutes before he heard her hesitant footsteps in the corridor, and another handful of seconds before she appeared in the doorway. She'd changed out of her maid's dress and now donned a plain blue cotton sari. In one hand, she held a bottle with gold liquid, and in the other, gripped the end of her sari tightly. Her eyes flickered to meet his, then shied away. If she were fair-skinned, he knew he would've seen a blush high on her cheeks.
