Where the Lotus Flowers Grow (24 page)

“Where can we buy paint?” she asked with a bright smile.

I laughed, feeling incredibly lucky this girl understood me in a way I’d never been understood. I rang the concierge, requesting an assortment of items. He delivered in less than an hour, just enough time for us to use the outside shower and go for a quick dip in the plunge pool.

I tipped him generously, grateful he’d managed to find most of them. A few fine artist’s brushes of various sizes, a proper canvas, and a standard set of acrylics paints.

“Take off your robe,” I said.

She looked unsure.

“This is for me only, Mary. No one else will ever see it. I promise you.”

She undid the knot. I slipped the thick white robe off her shoulder. It landed in a puddle at her feet. The candles cast shadows and gave the room a soft glow.

“This might take a while, so I asked the concierge to get you something to pass the time.” I handed her the paperback novel. I flipped on the light on the nightstand.

She smiled. “A highlander romance. It’s perfect.”

“Hope you haven’t read that one.”

“No.”

I positioned her on her belly. She crossed one leg over the other, an incredibly feminine pose I rather liked. I brushed her long wet hair to the side so it grazed just one of her shoulders. I adjusted her arm so she was up on her elbows.

I kissed her temple. “Thank you.” There were no other words for my appreciation at the reawakening of a dead desire.

“Liam, no one has ever looked at me the way you look at me. I’m afraid you see something that doesn’t exist.”

I tried not to be irritated that she couldn’t recognize her own beauty. Stroking her hair, I said, “You have no idea how breathtaking you are. But I’m not going tell you. I’ll do my best to show you. You need to be still for me. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, sir.”

I slapped her ass playfully. “Let’s begin.”

Scriabin’s “The Poem of Ecstasy” harmonized with the lapping surf coming through the open window. The piece sounded even more implicit…erotic tonight. There was no easel, but I covered a table with towels. I used a large piece of cardboard to palette my paints. I created a makeshift easel balancing the canvas against a vase. I doled out big blobs of rich, thick colors full of possibilities. Dipping the brush in the glass tumbler filled with water, I began.

The brush in my hand felt right, as if it had been waiting for me to reclaim it. I had no proper scraper to move and mix the paint, so I used my fingers, a business card, and a butter knife to give life to the image in my head. I flicked water on the canvas to dilute the hues when needed. The tools were rudimentary, but they worked.

I looked at the girl who had laid herself out for me. The one who made me question all the things I took for granted. Titan had his Venus. Manet had his Olympia. Dali had his Gala. And I had my Mary. I took liberties painting her with a cool blue tone surrounded by bright tangerine light.

When I had finished, the wax candles had burned down to liquid pools, barely holding up their wicks. Every classical piece on my iPhone had played twice. My fingers cramped. I was exhausted and exhilarated.

She had maintained her posture the whole time, although I could see her muscles strain, felt her need to stretch her limbs and shift her position. “I’m done, baby.”

She collapsed onto the bed.

I sat on the edge of the mattress and ordered room service, holding the phone in one hand and rubbing her back with the other.

“You’re stiff.” She had to be in pain.

“A little. May I see the painting?”

“Let me take care of you first.” My fingers kneaded into her warm, dark flesh until her knots released.

She made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a moan, a definite signal of contentment. “Better?” I asked.

“So much better.”

The food arrived. We sat on the bed, feasting on oysters, crab, and lobster. We sipped vintage port. I fed her fat, juicy strawberries dipped in spiced dark chocolate.

We stacked all the empty plates back on the room service cart, and I took it down to the kitchen so she wouldn’t be distracted. When I returned, Mary walked with slow steps toward the table where the canvas lay drying. She turned her head back to me, asking for my permission. I nodded, although I was nervous about her reaction.

I had planned to paint some stars around her. But my hands didn’t always follow the plans of my head. The stars had become much larger and rounder, almost translucent, with flecks of deep color inside them. Instead of a starry sky, I’d painted a landscape of moonstones around her, each one emerging like bubbles from a field of lotus flowers. Her figure floated above them, her body lined in black and colored with cerulean blue number seventeen.

She gasped, her hand flying to her neck. She blinked her eyes, bending closer for inspection.
Do you see the moonstones, Mary?
If I had one right now, I’d give it to her.

“I didn’t expect it to be so detailed. It’s different from your sketches.”

“I always enjoyed sketching, but painting is my passion.”

“It’s beautiful.” She swallowed, her voice thick with emotion. “Do you really see me this way?”

“It’s the way I see you, and it’s also the way you are.”

She hugged me. I picked her up and carried her back to bed. This time when we made love, it was slower.

“I don’t think I ever want to leave this room, Liam,” she whispered right before we drifted to sleep.

I don’t think I ever want to leave you, Mary.

Mary

We did eventually leave the room. We’d had a few solitary days where we explored nothing but each other’s bodies. We napped on a hammock in the afternoons. I wouldn’t think something made out of rope would be comfortable, but it was the best sleep I ever had.

But the sea called to us. Liam and I walked the sandy shores of Baga Beach, our feet skimming the ocean. He splashed me playfully. I jumped in his arms when I saw a crab. He tossed me into the water, drenching my sundress. He kicked up sand as he ran off. I chased after him. He let me catch up.

We fit the image of tourists well. I wore a floppy sunhat and a bright sarong with yellow and pink paisleys. He dressed in a casual white linen shirt, open at the collar, and long khaki shorts. His skin had turned a golden bronze, adding even more definition to his sinewy muscles. His hair was disheveled. The dark stubble from not shaving for two days accented his strong jawline. How did Liam make being messy so beautiful? We had made it to the marketplace before his palm brushed against my backside. He gave me a look that spoke volumes. We headed straight back to the room.

We sat at one of the beach restaurants drinking from straws pierced into fresh green coconuts. I read him passages from my highlander novel. Then he crooked his finger. I leaned closer to him, inhaling his clean, spicy, masculine scent. He whispered to me, his voice tinted with an imitation of a Scottish brogue. “You’re a fine bonny lass, ye are. I aim tae have me way with yee.” Heat flushed my face as desire filled my belly. We retired to the room.

In the mornings, he’d swim in the plunge pool. I treaded water in more ways than one. I dressed in a bikini for him in the privacy of the veranda. We didn’t make it to the room. We had sex right in the pool.

Today though, there was no turning back. We were in the middle of the sea on a private chartered boat.

“You ready, Mary?” he asked, checking the snaps on my life vest for the third time.

“Are we really going to ride a motorbike across the Arabian Sea?”

His excited laugh startled the birds resting on the ship’s ledge. “It’s called a jet ski.”

“The word ‘jet’ doesn’t make me feel any better.”

He placed his hands on my shoulder, his gaze turning serious. “I’ll keep you safe.”

I believed him.

Liam jumped on the vehicle like a cowboy mounting a horse. I was less graceful and required his assistance.

“I wish I could take you for a ride on my bike,” he said as we were floating on the water.

“You have a bicycle? Is it built for two people?”

He let out another laugh, but it held no humor. “It’s a motorcycle. A Ducati, actually.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“Doesn’t matter.” The jet ski throttled to life as he turned the ignition. “Anyway, we got this thing, yeah?”

“Yes, we have this.”
We have today, Liam. Stop thinking about tomorrow and make today last as long as possible.

“Trust me?” he asked, his grin mischievous.

“I would still be on the ship if I didn’t trust you.”

I’d still be on land.

I’d still be in Mumbai.

I’d still be in Jaipur.

“Good.” He pressed the handlebars, the engine roaring much too loudly for such a small machine. “Just the same, hold on tight.”

I almost fell back when he took off. Tightening my grip, I adjusted. My eyes shut tightly as the wind whipped my hair in all directions. I’m not exactly sure when my body stopped clenching and I started to enjoy the flips my stomach made as he took a turn. A mixture of exhilaration and adrenaline coursed through me. Water splashed our feet and sprayed our faces. I pressed close to him, the scent of sun and sea and Liam drifting everywhere. He rode fast, the machine either cutting through or jumping the waves. I tightened my hold around him as we flew in the air, my voice hoarse from excited screams. He slowed down and eventually came to a full stop. The boat was a distant dot in the horizon.

“Why did you stop?”

“Let’s trade places.”

“You’re joking.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t drive this thing. I can’t even drive a car.”

“I have no doubt you can do anything you want to, Miss Costa. Don’t worry. This is simpler than a car, and there isn’t anyone out here.”

His praise gave me a boost of confidence. “Okay,” my mouth said without checking in with my brain.

“On three, we’ll stand. Me to the left. You to the right. And we switch. Count with me.”

We counted. I thought for sure I’d fall into the water, where a shark would be sharpening his teeth, ready to make a meal out of me. But I didn’t. Liam instructed me how to maneuver the boat and adjust speed.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Yes.” I replied with more confidence than I felt.

Liam’s large hands rested on my thighs, his fingers spreading. I pried his wrists off me.

“I’m nervous enough without your naughty distractions, sir.”

“Well, I have to hold onto something.” He gripped my hips, shooting a flurry of butterflies into my tummy.

“Not there either.”

He wrapped his arms over my breasts. I could feel the tension even through the padding of the life vest. “Liam!”

“Okay, keep your hair on, lass.” He moved them over my waist. It still made my insides quiver, especially combined with the tender kiss on my neck, but it would do.

I swallowed back any hesitation. I went much slower than Liam did. But I had to admit, it felt amazing to drive this strange vessel.

“I’m doing it.”

“You are.”

“Liam, I’m driving a jet boat!”

“Jet ski, baby. Can you drive it bit faster, though? A school of sea turtles just passed us.”

I laughed, revving the motor higher. I didn’t go fast enough to jump any waves, but the speed was definitely challenging.

“Stop.”

I slowed us down to a crawl and then stopped. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No sweetheart, you were doing well. I wanted you to see this. Look over there.” I turned in the direction he pointed to. Several gray fins rose out of the water.

“Are those…”

“Dolphins.”

Thank God, I thought they were sharks. “Wow.”

We watched them for a while. They leapt out of the water in a graceful dance. Liam leaned his chin on my shoulder. He traced the line where the swimsuit met my thigh. Then he slipped his fingers underneath the material.

“What are you doing?”

“Relax, no one can see what I’m doing…except maybe the dolphins. They have very good eyesight, you know.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but only a moan escaped as his fingers slipped inside me.

“You like that, baby? You’re always so fucking wet for me. I love it.”

I closed my eyes and ground my hips into his thrusts.

“Dolphins have no official mating season. They fuck all year long.” His voice turned husky. I parted my mouth and licked my lips. He nibbled on my ear, his erection pressing into my back. “They are very sexual creatures.”

“Just like you,” I said in a strained tone.

“And like you, too, my little nymph. Or should I say nympho?” He kissed along my jawline with soft, wet presses of his lips.

My legs shook. The waves rocked us while his fingers rocked me. Small pulses of pleasure built higher and higher until a tidal wave exploded.

“Ready to trade places again?” he asked. “I think it’s your turn to pleasure me now.”

“Liam, you have the libido of a dolphin.”

“And the sharp bite of a shark,” he hissed before he nipped my neck.

* * * *

That night, Liam and I dined on the boat, gorging on fresh Kingfish ceviche and prawn ravioli cooked in curry leaves. Before I met him, all seafood was disgusting to me, but he made trying new things exciting. The chilled wine, flavored with apple and dark grape, tasted as smooth as Sidr honey.

When the ship reached port, we decided to laze about on the beach and watch the sun go down. We laid on towels. Liam rested his back on a boulder, his arms around me.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” he said, gesturing to the other beachgoers nearby.

“What? People enjoying a sunset on the beach?” I asked.

“Cows enjoying a sunset on the beach.”

I peered closer at the direction where he pointed. He was right. Two large cows casually roamed the sandy shores as if they were out for a romantic walk. They mooed to each other. We laughed.

“He’s telling her he wants some tail,” Liam said.

“She’s telling him to behave since they’re out in public.”

As the sun set, Liam’s smile waned. He laid his head in my lap. I combed my fingers through his thick hair. Usually, this was the kind of thing that would have one of us suggesting we return to the room.