"At the point where most people can't think straight let alone remember their own names out of their drunken stupor..."
"How come she can still clearly call out her name?"
Why can't it be me?
Why not me?
"Every single time and without even meaning t...
ओह! यह छवि हमारे सामग्री दिशानिर्देशों का पालन नहीं करती है। प्रकाशन जारी रखने के लिए, कृपया इसे हटा दें या कोई भिन्न छवि अपलोड करें।
Enjoying the jacuzzi and a night view of the sea at eleven-thirty, I leaned back and relaxed some more. Samantha was settled in the cabin next to mine just below the deck. Placing her luggage beside her bed, I quickly turned and left making a lame excuse of turning in too.
The image of Samantha lying down on the white sheets of the soft large bed made me want to lie down next to her. So before I did just that, I turned tail and got out of there deciding that I either needed a cold shower or a long soak in the whirlpool.
I closed my eyes and lowered myself a bit more under the water until my shoulders were submerged.
Cupcake?
The endearment was ringing in my ears. I couldn't stop my brows from frowning and the rise of something undefinable or something I dared not to define.
Is it for a friend or for a lover?
Girlfriend?
I only came to Samantha's home to warn her that my mother was in town and tell her I was about to decline my mother's invitation to have us join her for dinner. But it all came south when she opened the door with a wide brilliant smile and a contagious cheerfulness that rubbed me the wrong way - only just after she uttered Ms. Samuels's name.
For a minute there, my world tilted then completely turned upside down.
Momentary insanity.
It might not have been that late in the evening but the knowledge that they have been together for hours earlier struck a nerve. Though steeling my resolve, it was hard not coming to see her for weeks—even harder to know that she's spending it with Ms. Samuels.
They're colleagues and working on the Henderson project, Penny.
My mind wouldn't see reason. In the spur of the moment, I packed her a bag of clothes, strapped her in the passenger seat of my car and now, deposited her in the biggest room in my yacht.
Damn it all!
Though I still couldn't figure out why I did what I did.
Yeah, I didn't know.
The yacht is cruising at a comfortable and stable speed so Samantha must be in deep slumber now.
What... Who are you dreaming of Samantha?
"Penelope?" A sweet voice called.
Me?
'I am losing it.'
"Why am I hearing your voice, Samantha?" Eyes still closed, I groaned aloud, "Seriously?"
"Last time I checked, I am only visually impaired and not mute. But unless there's another Samantha in this boat or in the middle of the friggin' sea, so maybe..."
Bolting upright and turning to face her so quickly, I made the water splash out of the jacuzzi. Arms crossed and the hood up over her head with her hair on one side, the corner of her lips slightly turned to a tentative smile.
Gosh, she's so cute.
"Sam..." I said her name with reverence. I stepped out of the jacuzzi, stood before her and thanked the crew that helped her up to me, signaling he leaves us.
"Did you just call my baby a 'boat'?" A chilled sea wind blew and a shiver slowly wracked my body.
"You better cover up before you catch a mean cold." She offered me a towel and a robe. "That mini bikini won't keep you warm."
She can't see me in this suit, can she?
Still, warmth burned from inside me at the thought of her imagining me in a bikini. I felt my smile reach from ear to ear.
I took the thick robe and put it on before taking the towel from her. "I won't let that 'boat' comment slip by, mind you."
She chuckled as I helped her sit on the wide mattress just adjacent to the whirlpool bath. "Is it such a bad thing to call your baby a boat?"
"Anyone who owns a yacht would be insulted by the word." Biting the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling, I seriously told her why it was so.
Legs crossed and searching for a throw pillow, she gave me an apologetic smile. "Sorry, Ms. Yacht owner Penelope."
"You are not forgiven." I got on the wide bed-like couch and sat beside her with a slump. "Luka's feelings hurt."
"Luka? Oh, the yacht you mean?" She smirked.
"You're throwing insult after insult, Ms. Mighty Architect. It's starting to scar." I looked at the built-in mini-fridge to find us drinks. "For someone who designs a masterpiece, I find it impossible to believe you are comparing my magnificent Luka to mere a boat."
Releasing an exaggerated sigh then patting the mattress, she played along. "I am terribly sorry, Luka. Judging by the use of my other senses, you are beautiful and magnificent..."
And so are you.
"Meeting you for the first time would have been even more wonderful if I can see you in your glowing splendor..."
How stupid of me.
How can she fully enjoy the experience now?
"You are not a boat. You are a wonderful yacht don't let me tell you otherwise." She covered her mouth and staged a whisper—though we both know it was nothing but. "I just kept saying it to rile the owner up, babe."
I opened a bottle of beer and took a long sip to settle the tingling sensation brought by her playfulness.
"Care to share or are you still holding a grudge to even offer me one?" She asked.
I could never seem to get mad at you when you are acting so adorable.
Absentmindedly, I gave her the bottle which content was almost halved after I took a huge drink off it. Entranced, I watched as she brought the bottle to her lips and drank.
I gulped down the heat that rose from my chest at the thought she and I had indirectly kissed by sharing a bottle. My mind wandered as my eyes zeroed in on her lush lips then down to the length of the light skin of her neck.
Shaking the fog of arousal off, I opened another bottle and downed it in one go. When I came around, I had already emptied three bottles more before Samantha has finally finished the half.
"Wow, that's has got to be the fastest I have ever heard someone go at in a minute." She gave me the empty bottle back to put it away.
"Just quenching the thirst," I said.
She chuckled. "Quite the thirst, I can only imagine."
I still thirst for you though.
"Want another one?" My voice was roughened by the arousal I can't seem to put at bay in her presence.
"Definitely," she smiled and clutched the pillow closer to her chest.
All my life I have been taught and trained to swim and winning medals here and there each meet that could make any parent proud. Penelope Hensen is even more formidable in the waters. Skilled as I am, I never drowned. But then, why?
