Chapter 14
After Heath pulled away from my driveway, I reset the alarm and retreated to my private oasis upstairs. I walked through the bedroom and went straight to the bathroom. I glanced at the shower but decided no; tonight was a night for a soak in the refinished claw-foot tub. I turned on the faucet and let the hot water fill the basin and the steam warm the air-conditioned air.
Once the water filled the tub, I slipped out of my dusty dress and into the warm embrace of the water. I leaned back against the smooth finish of the tub wall and closed my eyes. I felt the tension begin to leave my body, but the arousal still remained. Heath had taken control of my once slumbering desire. The water lapped at my shoulders and lulled me into a state somewhere between asleep and awake.
In my drowsy state, my defenses were down. And without being consciously aware of my vulnerability, Flynn slipped below my radar and entered my thoughts.
Floating on a cloud of steam induced relaxation, my mind veered off its safe musings and into the dangerous territory that was Sea Island, Georgia. Oh, it was not so much the physical location of the Sea Island Resort that was dangerous to my health; it was the memory of my honeymoon that was deadly. I ruthlessly tried to cut off those memories before they could take hold. Alas, it was too late for self preservation; the flood gates were opened, and in poured Flynn, or rather the memory of a Flynn, whom I had loved, a memory that could still wound me.
Our room in the hotel was sheer opulence. The suite we were given was as spacious as the lower level of my parents’ home. The foyer was outfitted with a basic mahogany chest of drawers and a combination hat and umbrella stand. A short walk brought us into the main living area of the suite. This was an open room with an overstuffed white slip-covered sofa. There were also two substantial and comfortable looking armchairs which faced the sofa across the expanse of a large glass topped coffee table littered with an impressive selection of current magazines. On the wall behind the chairs stood an imposing entertainment center that housed an enormous flat screen television, a blue ray player, and a surround sound system that looked to be sleek and expensive.
The view from the room was amazing. It was all blue sky and crashing white capped waves. To the left of the beautiful view was a set of double French doors that opened into a sumptuous and sexy bedroom. Or perhaps it only appeared sexy to us because we were here on our honeymoon, but the room was decadent without a doubt.
“Oh! My Lord, Flynn, do you see this place?”
We walked into the room, and our feet sank into thick, soft ivory carpeting. I kicked off my sandals and ran my toes through the luscious pile. My eyes closed, and a soft moan came out of my mouth. Before I knew what happened, Flynn had me down on the floor with half of my clothes hanging off. He made love to me with an urgent rhythm that spoke of too long restrained passions.
In the afterglow of our first sex as a married couple, we lay spooned on the plush carpeting that might be white but could not be called innocent for all the debauchery that it had just witnessed.
I fairly purred my pleasure, “That was wonderful, Mr. Murphy.”
In response, Flynn rubbed a large, warm hand over my round bottom. “I was pleased as well, Mrs. Murphy.”
I giggled out, “I know you were, my dear; the evidence of that is about to stain these lovely carpets.”
Flynn gasped in mock horror. “Not the carpets!” And proceeded to jump up, hoist me into his arms, and toss me into the bathroom. “To the showers, my love.”
After a long, hot shower full of stirring kisses and soapy hands, we emerged from our steam-filled bathroom in fluffy robes of white Egyptian cotton. I flopped on our bed which was covered in layers of soft elegant white blankets, comforters, and sheets. When I jumped recklessly on the bed, I happened to knock off about ten of the squishy pillows that were piled a mile high on the bed. It was like sinking into the embrace of a feather light lover that smelled of mountain breeze fabric softener. Flynn, of course, walked over to the bureau by the French doors and slipped on his gold watch. No surprise there, Flynn ran by a clock.
In a nod to compromise, I slid a glance at the bedside clock and saw its red digits flask 7:30 PM. The reality of time brought my body into the present. As if on cue, my stomach started to rumble. It had been a long time since I had eaten that bite of wedding cake.
Flynn flashed me his version of a devilish smile and winked, “I guess it’s time I fed my bride, or so I hear.”
I laughed good-naturedly but still tossed a pillow at his head. He easily caught it, “Tisk, Tisk, my dear. If you keep that up, I’ll be forced to make reservations at a fancy restaurant.”
My brows knitted, “Why would that be a bad thing exactly?”
“Oh, I see I’m one step ahead of you for a change, lovely. You see if I make reservations, then you’ll have to get up out of that wonderful bed, slip out of that comfortable robe, pull on some tight and completely hot dress, wear high heels, paint your face, and then go out to dinner. However, if you’re nice to me…..”
Flynn kicked back and leaned against the dresser. “Well, if you’re nice to me, I’ll made the reservations for tomorrow night; and tonight, I’ll let you stay in that wonderful bed, wearing that comfortable robe, and eating fabulous room service brought to our door by hotel staff and brought to our bed by me. How does that sound?”
I licked my lips. “Flynn, you are the most devious and wonderful husband. I’ll be a nice bride now, and maybe later I’ll give you a naughty and grateful wife in bed.”
Flynn waggled his eyebrows. “Now you’re talking my game, woman.” Flynn produced the hotel menu from behind his back and laid it in my lap. “Do your worst,” he challenged. “I know I will.”
As I looked into his eyes, I knew he didn’t mean the food.