Page 136 of Whirlwind

Laughing, he put me down, his cool hands cradling my face, drawing me close. “I mean vivid. Bold. Strong and powerful. Exhilarating. To me you’re a force.”

My heart jumped in my chest, a surge of euphoric juice raced through my body as I basked in the wild gleam of those blue green eyes.This man.He held me up to the light and saw things, new things, good things, things I’d often considered a problem. Beck held me up tohislight.

I buried my face in his neck, and we hugged tightly.

“We have some time before the car comes, let’s check out Little Venice.” He took my hand in his and we walked toward the area filled with colorful small bars and restaurants which were built practically hanging over the water, like a mini Venice.

Twenty minutes later we were in the car I’d arranged for with the concierge. After our tense conversation at breakfast, I wanted to do something special for Beck.

“Where are we off to?” he asked.

“I thought since it’s our last day here and it’s just us, it might be nice to go to a quieter out of the way spot on the island. You and me and a raw beach, a seasidetavérna, nothing glam and fancy—”

“I like the sound of that…” with a grin gliding over his lips he slid back on the seat, taking my hand in his.

The car left us at the top of a hill overlooking a beautiful small cove. Even though we were at the north end of the island, the windiest, this cove cut the intensity of the winds on this strip of beach. On one side of us was the restaurant where we’d eat later, and on the other a tiny white church, like hundreds of others all over the island.

“This is Ágio Sósti.” I pointed to the church and the two beaches down below us, one small, the other larger. No beach bars, no fancy pergolas and luxe beach beds, piped in music, or waiters here. Only the finest golden sand and the clearest, most emerald blue waters I’d ever seen. And best of all, no crowds, only a handful of couples and a few families.

“Heaven.” Beck led the way down the stone steps carved in the rocky hill to the beach where we chose a spot and laid out our towels, a beach umbrella, put on sun screen and swam, swam, swam. The water was impossibly crystal clear in the bright sun, and down below it was otherworldly, peaceful.

Back on our towels, we laid out and chatted, we zenned, and as Beck snoozed, I took photos, of the shoreline, the church above, the sea, and Beck. Beautiful Beck, muscled arms thrown over his head, chiseled chest rising and falling with even, relaxed breaths.

After he woke up, we gathered our stuff and went to the restaurant. As we waited for a table, we enjoyed a cold glass of the house homemade wine. Finally, we were seated on a shaded terrace in the midst of olive trees and a stunning panoramic view of the sea and the coves below.

We ate a large charcoal grilled calamari, a monster sized grilled pork chop that was the juiciest, most flavorful chop I’d ever had, and of course, the classic tomato salad.

A simple meal, filling, fulfilling, colorful and rich in its simplicity. A perfect end to our simple, uncomplicated beach experience. “This is my kind of food. Not all that high level presentation in those fancy dishes. I do appreciate a fine gourmet meal, don’t get me wrong, but this…” Beck dipped a crust of bread into the salad bowl and mopped up what was left of the sweet tomatoes, the creamy, tangy feta cheese, gossamer slices of red onion and a strip of green bell pepper, and the glory that was Greek olive oil. He tucked it in his mouth and a groan rose from his lips.

Heat filled my chest at the sound of his satisfaction. My foot grazed up against his leg and he grinned at me as he wiped his fingers on a napkin.

We got a taxi and headed back to the hotel and once there, threw ourselves on the big divan on the breezy terrace by the pool for a traditional Greek afternoon nap.

Beck ripped off his clothes and lay naked next to me. I loved how he had no sense of shame or self-consciousness. He let out a satisfied sigh and once again, threw his sculpted arms back over his head. The wind rustled through his thick, wavy hair, and my heart lodged in my throat.

Sunlight gleamed over the sharp contours, smooth valleys, and chiseled plains of muscle. Contours, valleys, and plains I’d gotten to know so well. I’d frolicked there, teased them, claimed them. His chest lifted and rose more deeply. He had drifted asleep.

My gaze roved over him. The very same feeling shot through me as when I’d bumped into him in that dark hallway of Pete’s years ago. A mental stutter, a fascination, adoration. His lips parted, a small moan. My heart squeezed.

I got up and grabbed my camera.

I took photos of Beck’s form in the foreground with the blue sea beyond. I pulled up close and captured a curve of bicep, the length of a long, muscular leg in repose. Those sensual lips parted slightly, taking in air.

Yes, I wanted to save these images, these moments forever. Beck at rest. Beck relaxed. Beck happy.

Beck, all mine.

His head dipped to the left as he drew deeper, longer breaths. He had to be exhausted. Since we’d arrived here we’d been doing nothing but running around with Tag. Beck had even performed on the fly. My teeth dragged along my lip as I put my camera down. He needed rest and care before he went back to his crazy in L.A.

I rang the Concierge desk. “Hello? This is Villa 3.”

“Yes, Ms. Hildebrand, how may I help you?”

“I’d like to arrange for spa services for both me and Mr. Lanier in two hours, if that’s possible. I know it’s last minute but—”

“There is no problem. No problem at all.”

“Wonderful. Also, I’d like to pay for these myself, please don’t put them on the room tab.”

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