All the Pretty Poses (21 page)

I assume that Sven cleans up our mess after
we leave to head back down to sea level. Once there, Reese takes me
back to the shore where a smaller boat is waiting.

We speed across a short stretch of ocean to a
place Reese tells me is Hiva Oa. We tie the boat at a small dock
there and he takes me to see the resting place of Gauguin, as well
as a local museum dedicated to his art. We walk hand in hand along
the street, talking like we’ve known each other all these years
rather than like we’ve been separated all this time. It’s
bittersweet because I know it will end at some point and we’ll soon
be strangers again.

After an afternoon snack that was stashed in
the cool storage of the boat, we head back out to sea to make
another fairly short trip to Fatu Hiva, where we enter through
what’s called the Bay of Virgins.

Reese guides the boat in between huge rock
formations that rise up out of the water on three sides. The sun is
shining brightly on the peaks and dappling the water with rays of
gold. Reese stops the boat and drops anchor about twenty yards from
where the rocks converge and there’s nothing around us but steep
cliffs and a trickling waterfall.

“Care for an afternoon swim?” he asks,
kicking off his shoes.

He doesn’t have to ask twice. It’s hot here
and the water looks cool and refreshing. Reese strips down to his
shorts and dives in, surfacing just in time to watch me dive in
beside him. Together we swim to the apex of the rock formation.
It’s there, without a single word said, that Reese pulls me into
his arms, stares deeply into my eyes and makes love to me in the
warm French Polynesian waters.

It’s like that at every group of islands we
visit. He takes me to a handful of amazing locations, buys me
beautiful things and makes love to me somewhere unusual, like he’s
marking the spot. Whether that’s what he intends, it’s certainly
what’s happening in my mind. And in my heart. I’ll never think of
this half of the world the same way again, without an ache that
will likely never go away.

At some ports, our stay is longer. Reese
always has some stunning accommodations lined up. In Bora Bora, we
stayed in a little cottage that overlooked the sea. We slept in a
bed surrounded by netting and made love all night long while the
flicker of the fire just outside the open doors bathed our skin in
a warm, orange glow.

In Tahiti, we stayed in a
bure
, a
private bungalow that sits at the end of a pier, perched high over
the water. Our breakfast was delivered by a man in a canoe. We ate
bagels and cream cheese and licked fresh coconut juice from each
other until well into the afternoon.

Despite our earlier conversation, Reese still
insists on showering me with everything from expensive clothes to
sparkling jewelry to thousand-dollar-an-ounce perfume. I want for
nothing, but all I really want is Reese.

After Tahiti, we got back on the yacht for a
longer trek to Fiji. This morning Reese told me we would be in port
later tonight and that he wanted to take me to the show upstairs
for a change. It’s the last one for a few days since everyone will
be on shore enjoying the island. This marks the last stop before
the return journey home.

I’ve been excited all day. For some reason,
it feels like a date. Even though we’ve spent every waking minute
together for weeks, he’s kept me hidden away from everyone else on
board and this feels like some kind of statement. I just don’t know
what it says.

I’m still in my robe, putting on my makeup
when I hear a knock at the door. I go to answer it, expecting to
see Reese, but instead I find Karesh.

He does that tiny bow of his head that he
always does before he smiles. “Ms. Moore.”

As always, I give him the same small bow and
smile. “Mr. Karesh.” His grin always deepens. I have no idea what
his last name is. Or if Karesh
is
his last name. Either way,
it’s become a bit of a game between us over these weeks.

He hands me a plain white box with a big,
gold ribbon wrapped around it and tied in a perfect bow. “A gift
from Mr. Spencer. He asks that you wear it tonight. He’ll be
waiting for you at the bow of the ship, on deck. Seven sharp.”

With that, he nods again and then turns to
walk away. I lean out into the hall and call after him, “Thank
you.”

I see his head tip back a bit and hear a
faint, “My pleasure.” That makes me smile. He might, just
might,
be warming up a little.

I shut the door and scurry to the bed to open
the box. Inside it, beneath a mountain of soft, white tissue paper,
is a dress. A beautiful dress. One of a zillion nice things he’s
bought me.

The color reminds me of an emerald—that rich,
deep green. The material feels like velvet and it’s heavy as I hook
my fingers under the straps and pull it out of the box.

The dress falls in a smooth drape all the way
to the floor. The waistline is subtle as it runs into the puckers
that will gather from beneath my breasts to join at the jeweled
medallion in the center. The plunging neckline is asymmetrical and
the left strap is much wider than the right, giving the appearance
that there is only one. I turn it around and find that the
asymmetry is carried to the back. The line falls drastically from
ribs-high on the left side to where it rejoins the green velvet at
my right hip, leaving the majority of my back exposed.

It’s stunning. It’s daring. It’s elegant. And
Reese bought it for me to wear. Tonight.

The tag is still in place, although the
actual cost has been torn away. There is simply the name of a
boutique, written in fancy script, as well as another name, one I
assume belongs to the dress.

I drape it across the bed and take the
matching shoes from the bottom of the box. They are open-toed heels
covered in jewels that match the centerpiece of the dress. I’m not
accustomed to extravagant gifts like this. The best I can hope for
is that I will take Reese’s breath away when he sees me in it.

When I’m dressed and surveying myself in the
mirror, I wonder what Reese will see. Will he see simply the wide
sage eyes rimmed with dark lashes and ringed in smoky shadow? Will
he see the sun-kissed cheeks and ruby-red lips? Or will he see the
sparkle in my eye that says I never stopped loving him? That I’m
already deeper in love with him than I ever was as a girl?

I can admit my situation to myself much more
easily than what I would’ve imagined. I think the moment I agreed
to give Reese a chance, I knew what would happen. In a way, I had
to be okay with it before I ever took the first step. I knew then
just like I know now that Reese nearly destroyed me once, and that
he might do so again, but I’m helpless to stop it. I’ll love him
until there’s nothing left. And then long after. It’s inevitable.
He’s
inevitable.

I turn away from my reflection and walk
toward the door. There’s no place to go but forward. I learned a
long time ago that I can never go back.

The wind is calm up on deck. The air is dry
and warm, and it’s quiet but for the lively conversation drifting
through the windows from the dining room. My heels make a soft
clack on the deck boards as I head around toward the bow. When I
take the final three steps that put me up on the platform, I see
Reese leaning against the railing. The sea breeze is ruffling his
dark hair and the orange blaze of the setting sun is illuminating
half his handsome face, giving his eyes that pale, fathomless
sparkle of these tropical waters.

Although he was already motionless, he seems
to stop when he sees me, stop breathing even. Much like I have. His
eyes roam me from the curls piled intricately atop my head to the
red-painted toes peeking out from my dazzling shoes. It gives me
time to adjust to seeing him in his finery. He looks more dashing
than James Bond in his black suit and crisp white shirt, holding a
glass in one hand and a box in the other.

“You take my breath away,” he rumbles when I
stop a few inches from him.

My smile feels like it might outshine the sun
when I admit, “I was hoping I would, but I forgot all about it when
I saw you standing here.”

Like he doesn’t want to break me, Reese
straightens and dips his head to brush his lips across mine. Even
the light contact incites a zing of excitement, just like it always
does. Reese—his presence, his attention, his touch—brings every
molecule of my being into pinpoint focus on him. It’s like the rest
of the world doesn’t exist. And I don’t want it to.

Reese reaches behind me to set his glass on a
small, linen-draped table that I only just now noticed before he
straightens and opens the box he’s holding.

“For you. Nothing half as beautiful as you
are, but I wanted you to have it anyway.”

In the long, rectangular box lays a wide
bracelet encrusted with the same jewels as my dress and shoes,
although I suspect these might be real. Rubies, sapphires, emeralds
and a few diamonds chase each other in row after row of glittering
gemstones.

Reese takes it out of the box and winds it
around my wrist, securing it before he brings my hand to his mouth
and kisses my knuckles. “Thank you for coming with me this summer.
I didn’t realize how much I needed you until you came back into my
life.”

My heart is slamming against my ribs like
head-bangers in a mosh pit. “Thank you for bringing me. I…I…”

Reese’s lips curve into that sexy, lopsided
smile that I love. “No need to thank me. I assure you,
you
are one hundred percent my pleasure.”

Heat flares between us in an instant. It’s
hard for me to keep my hands off him as he leads me to the table
and pulls out my chair for me. I think he’s feeling the same way if
the ravenous look in his eyes is any indication, but he wants this
night for some reason. For me? For us? I don’t know, but I’ll go
along with anything he wants to do. Anything, anytime anywhere.

Sven is our waiter again. He brings us course
after course of the most delicious food I’ve ever tasted. Reese and
I enjoy every bite of it, sometimes feeding each other, sometimes
laughing about him using his fingers rather than his fork,
sometimes just enjoying the amazing view and the even more amazing
company. The whole scene is like something from a movie or a fairy
tale. I squash down the niggling nugget of dread that has yet to
vacate the very pit of my stomach, the one that is braced for the
disaster that should come when any situation is this perfect.

After dinner, Reese and I have another glass
of wine before he takes me to the showroom and leads me to a small
table for two set near the stage. Together we enjoy the
entertainment, including two increasingly risqué dances by Amber,
followed by a beautiful piano being rolled out onto the stage.

I’m curious as to who plays when I see none
other than Brian take a seat behind it. He plays several songs like
a classically-trained pianist and it seems everyone appreciates
it.

When it’s over, the lights come back on and
everyone gets up to leave. Reese doesn’t move to get up, so I keep
my seat until he’s ready. He sits in the chair to my left, just
watching me, for at least five minutes after the room has
completely emptied out. Finally, when the lights dim again, leaving
only enough illumination for us to see the piano clearly, Reese
stands, offering me his hand. I slide my fingers into his and let
him guide me to the three steps that lead onto the stage.

Reese walks to the piano, stops and turns
toward me, circling his hands around my waist to lift me onto it.
He angles me toward the front as he takes a seat on the bench.

Gracefully, he runs his fingers over the
keys, every bit as expertly as Brian had.

“You play?” I ask in surprise.

“I play,” he replies with a smile.

After a few bars, the notes begin to take on
those of a song I recognize—
Fever.
The sensual tune seeps
into the air like a drug and, immediately, I’m under the influence.
I feel it in a physical way, like a touch, a touch that sizzles
along the surface of my skin. Suddenly, the heat of the light is
hotter, the black lacquer of the piano cooler. My skin is
ultra-sensitive, and every cell of my being is waiting for Reese to
reach for me. My body strains toward him, eager for that
moment.

But then he starts to sing.

I’ve heard the song performed by a man
before, but never has it sounded this good, never has it
felt
this good. His deep voice is like smooth, rich
chocolate. Deliciously mesmerizing. Decadently tantalizing.

I watch Reese as he plays. And he watches
me.

During the second verse, he stops playing,
instead using his hands to grasp my hips and drag me closer to him.
He takes off my shoes and sets them aside before gently resting my
bare feet on the keys, all the while singing in his low voice. He
never takes his eyes off mine as he runs his palms up my calves.
When he gets to my knees, he presses against the insides of them,
urging me to spread my legs. So I do, anticipation humming through
my veins.

My breath is coming in shallow pants as Reese
raises my dress with his forearms, stroking his fingers up my
thighs. With excruciating slowness, he drags my panties off,
brushing them across his mouth before he sets them aside.

When my lower body is bared to him, Reese
stands. As he draws closer to me, the words of the song trail off
until there’s nothing but silence and the sound of his breath
colliding with mine.

When our lips meet, it turns into a slow
tango of our tongues that turns my toes into ten tiny flames and my
belly into a melting pot of the most all-consuming desire I’ve ever
known.

Everything happens in slow motion, as though
the song still plays in the background. Reese leans away and stares
into my eyes for what seems an eternity before he runs his fingers
down my throat and over my chest, pressing gently until I’m lying
flat on my back on top of the piano.