Everything seems to grow fuzzy with Hugh’s touch, I’m so swept up in desire I can’t see straight. His other hand palms my breast again.
‘You,’ I manage to say, ‘I want you.’
I grab for the strings on my swimsuit and untie them. He brings his head down slowly and kisses me right where I need it. I writhe with pleasure, driving my fingers into his hair. I can’t feel my toes anymore. I can hardly feel the sand.
By the time Hugh steps out of his swimsuit, I’m on the brink. If I can’t have him, I feel like I’ll die.
He takes a moment. ‘I want to savour you,’ he says, before placing his thumb on my clit one more time.
‘Hugh,’ I whimper. He kisses me again, this time his tongue is intense, claiming my mouth like he could consume me entirely. I suck his bottom lip into my mouth.
His hardness pushes into me, and I feel like I could explode. I see stars, clinging to his back, my fingertips driving into the divot between his shoulders.
He is slow at first, exploring, and as he moves faster, I grow closer and closer to coming totally undone.
When he looks me in the eyes I lose it, unravelling into pleasure, and watching me, feeling me, makes him climax too, both of us collapsing into a panting heap.
We lie on the sand together for what feels like an hour, not saying anything. I don’t open my mouth, worried I’ll break the spell. Our fingertips trace lazy circles on each other, until we know it’s time to head back. I never gather the courage to say anything. I don’t want to ruin the moment, our moment, underneath a cloudless Australian sky.
We dip in the ocean to rinse off the sand before walking down the beach to meet the others. I can’t meet Pippa’s gaze because I’m afraid I’ll betray myself immediately, but I can’t keep a smile from playing across my lips. Hugh’s hand brushes my ass casually as we approach the group, and I know without looking that he’s trying not to smirk.
We make our way down the rickety dock. The ocean has gotten choppier as the afternoon progressed, and the boat is rocking up and down with the waves. Everyone struggles to find their balance at first.
Hugh’s face pales as he sits down on a bench in the captain’s room. He doesn’t remain in his seat long enough for the rest of us to sit down. Almost instantly, he is on his feet and making his way towards the front of the boat. Miguel looks at me with a mixture of disgust and conspiratorial superiority. It instantly confirms what I was afraid of. Hugh is seasick, and Miguel is wondering why I’ve been spending so much time with a liability instead of spending time with him. He raises his eyebrows at me ever so slightly before slipping below deck, presumably to get as far away from Hugh as possible.
After ten minutes I find a glass of water and gently walk over to where Hugh is clutching the railing.
‘Anything I can do?’ I ask softly.
He turns, all the colour drained from his face. His eyes are a light icy-blue again.
‘This is rough,’ he says.
‘Water?’ I ask, searching for any way to help.
Hugh shakes his head no.
I rub his back, gently placing my hand in between his shoulder blades. His skin is warm to the touch. Even though he’s sick, touching him is reassuring. Being near him I feel balanced, like I can breathe again.
‘It’ll be OK,’ I whisper.
I help him get ready for bed, bringing him water and a plain piece of bread in case he feels like he can eat.
When I dip a washcloth in cool water and lay it across his forehead, his eyes flutter open.
‘Millie,’ he says. His voice is hoarse, but he’s managing a wry smile.
‘What do you need?’ I grab his bedframe to steady myself as the boat lurches again.
‘I’m sorry I’m taking away our night together.’ Hugh chuckles in disbelief at the situation, his throat scratchy. He leans his head back into the pillow and takes a deep breath, like that comment took every ounce of energy he had left.
‘We have the mainland,’ I say, smiling.
‘I was hoping you’d say that.’ Hugh grins.
‘But I need to talk to you about something.’
He nods. ‘As you wish.’
