Page 10 of Tycoon

“Wow, Andrew,” I murmured, echoing my thoughts as we stepped into the lobby, “this place is perfect.”

He nodded, “I had hoped you would like it.”

It wasn't just the inn's charm but the promise of being here with Andrew. He checked us in, we were led up a narrow staircase heightening the sense of intimate seclusion. Our cozy rooms with connecting doors awaited us, a haven of tranquility with its soft pastel walls and crisp white linens. But it was the view that held us captive—the ocean, stretching endlessly, its waves whispering secrets to the shore.

“Can you believe this?” I whispered, drawn to the window of the first room where the horizon danced under the waning sun. Andrew wrapped his arms around me from behind, his chin resting atop my head.

It felt natural as his arms enfolded me. With anyone else I knew I wouldn’t have allowed them this much intimacy this quickly. The thing is I wanted more. I wanted to feel myself beneath him, skin to skin, face to face.

This was so unlike me. It took three months before I had sex with Darriun.

“It's like it's just for us,” Andrew replied drawing me out of my reveries, his voice a gentle rumble against my ear.

We stood there, two silhouettes framed by the vastness of sea and sky, the rhythmic cadence of the waves syncing with the beat of our hearts. In that suspended moment, time seemed to honor our need to pause, to savor the beginning of something beautiful. The room, with its subtle scent of salt and the soft hum of the wind, became more than just a place to stay—it set the stage for our romantic escape, a private world where the depths of our connection could unfurl like the sails of the ships dotting the horizon.

“Amara, I hope I’m not moving too fast. If so, tell me and I will slow down and take things at your pace.”

“You’re moving just right,” I said, turning within Andrew's embrace to face him, “I want to explore not just this town but every layer of 'us'.”

His eyes, a mirror of my own desire, met mine with a fiery intensity. “Nothing would make me happier, Amara,” his voice was a thick grumble, sealing our pact with a kiss that tasted of promise and the sweet tang of the sea.

***

Andrew

Later that evening stepping out into the embrace of the setting sun, the beach greeted us like an old friend, its golden sands a familiar touch beneath our feet. The air held a whisper of the ocean's song, a rhythm that pulsed with promises and whispered secrets only lovers could understand.

“Let's wander,” I suggested. “The sea has stories to share, and I want to hear them all with you.”

My hand found Amara’s, our fingers intermingling, we walked at a pace measured by heartbeats and the gentle retreat of the tide, each step an exploration of the shared path unfurling before us.

“Look at how the water catches the light,” Amara murmured, pointing toward the horizon where the sun kissed the sea. It was like a picture of gold and fiery orange.

“It's mesmerizing,” I agreed, my gaze reflecting the wonder of the moment. “But not as captivating as you.”

My words, tender and true, danced around us like the breeze, lifting strands of her curly hair in playful swirls. In that instant, I felt all I wanted to do was cherish her and show her how I could be trusted to be the keeper of her heart.

We continued our stroll, letting the sound of the surf serenade us until a rustic sign caught our eye: 'Captain Joe's Seafood Shack.' The aroma of grilling fish and the tang of salt in the air lured us closer.

“Shall we?” I asked, gesturing toward the shack with a roguish grin.

“Absolutely,” she replied, “I have walked up an appetite.”

“Now that’s what I like to see. A woman who isn’t trying to starve herself.”

Amara laughed, “one thing to know about me is I love to eat.”

“Great,” I replied, and we entered Captain Joe's. The menu was a simple affair scrawled on a chalkboard, boasting the freshest catch and local flavors. We settled on a spread of grilled snapper and shrimp, each bite a celebration of sea-kissed goodness that had us savoring slowly, deliberately.

“This is delicious,” Amara said between mouthfuls, reveling in the zest of lemon and the subtle spice of herbs.

“Indeed, it is,” I replied, my eyes alight with appreciation for the meal and for the woman sitting across from me. “It's kind of like us, isn't it? Different paths that led us to this perfect spot.”

She nodded, as we stared deeply in one another eye. Here, with the lap of waves as our soundtrack and the caress of sea breezes against our skin, we feasted not just on food but on the burgeoning richness of our connection.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Amara

---