A Touch of Possession

His hand rested on her shoulder and she felt his fingers slip through the fringes of her hair where it touched her collar. In the dim lights of the patio, he stood behind her, talking to one of his counterparts about the afternoon seminar, while she watched the guitarist on stage. His fingers slid up her neck, and into her hairline, and though the night air was still warm, she felt the goosebumps rise on her skin. He paused, leaning down to ask if she needed her drink refilled; his hand instinctively tightened around her neck as his words stirred the hair against her cheek. She held her breath until he left, closing her eyes and swallowing hard when she felt the shift in the air as he walked away.

She stood, stretching, and twisted her neck from side to side, concentrating on making her heart slow in time to the music. The others stood, kissed her casually on the cheek one by one, and walked away with a wave. She turned back toward the stage, watching, but not really hearing the music. The soft click of his shoes on the wood deck signaled his approach moments before his left hand rested low on her back and his right hand reached around her body, placing a drink in her hand. His fingers trailed against hers as she took the drink, and she took a deep breath. “The others just left,” she said, not really knowing what she expected his response to be.

“If you like the music, we can stay,” he said, his voice measured and low. “Or bring your drink. We can hear the music from the balcony.” She knew he meant his balcony, even though he’d never actually asked the question. The executives had the suites with the balconies; she just had one of the inside resort suites with no particular view.

“Let’s hear this one song,” she responded, sinking back down into the seat. He remained standing, behind her, and his hand came up to rest on her shoulder, almost possessively. He squeezed her shoulder, then she felt his fingers at the edge of her neckline, slipping inside the fabric, grasping her collarbone then tracing it up to her neck. He had to be able to feel her chest rise and fall rapidly with her breathing, she thought, and she took a big gulp of her drink, hoping it would take away the edge. By the time the musician on stage finished his piece, there was nothing but the remnants of her ice cubes floating in the glass. She pondering listening to another song, but the musician rose, taking a break, and she knew she couldn’t just sit here. Or even wanted to.

“Did you want to stay for the last set?” he asked, and she looked up at him. His blue eyes were dark, and his face was calm, waiting for her answer. She shook her head; he blinked his eyes slowly, turning his eyes away from her momentarily, and his mouth curled in that smirk she was so used to seeing across a board room table. Though this time it made her stomach flip, just a bit. He held his hand out to her for assistance; she held it carefully as she stood and stepped around the potted plants by the low seats until she was standing next to him. Still smiling confidently, he held his right hand in the direction of the exit, and she stepped slightly in front of him, feeling his left hand come up to rest on her lower back as they threaded their way through the last of the evening crowd.

It was a short walk to the guest suites and when they got to the point where she should have turned to go to her own room, she paused, turning to him. Without missing a beat, he pointed straight ahead to the view suites, and when they reached the base of the stairs at the entryway, he turned in front of her, shepherding her up the steps, slight pressure still at the back of her waist. His keycard was out and in the room door, without giving her any time to think.

The door swung open quietly, and she could smell orange and sandalwood, and some type of exotic flower. The lights were low, and housekeeping had turned down the bed and turned on the music. He stepped in behind her, closing the door, and removing his sport jacket, hanging it in the closet inside the room. She stood in the middle of the room, thinking the king-sized bed looked enormous, then looked away quickly, walking to the balcony doors which were open. She heard him open the minibar, and heard the clink of a bottle top and the “pop” of a release. He was beside her momentarily, holding two glasses of sparkling water, and he motioned for her to step outside. She stepped onto the balcony, careful that her heels didn’t catch in the wooden slats, and rested her glass on the thick wooden railing. The view was secluded, with trees and plants shading the immediate neighbors, but not impeding the view of the lake and the shoreline. The music inside was piped into small, hidden speakers on the balcony, and she felt him step up behind her, his hand around her waist, fingers on the waistband of her skirt, swaying just a bit in time to the music.

She turned to look at him, his skin flushed against the stark white collared shirt, moonlight reflecting in his eyes, and his eyes crinkled in a smile. “Is this ok?” he asked, and she wasn’t sure if he meant that she was here, that his arm was around her, or something more. She nodded, not quite able to form the right words, and he set his glass down next to hers. He brought his right hand up, letting it slip inside the collar of her shirt, skim over her shoulders and neck, coming up to rest on her cheek, his fingertips behind her ear. She felt her heart racing, wondering if he could feel the pulse under his fingers. “Is this ok?” he asked, letting his thumb trace her bottom lip, and she finally found the breath to say “Yes,” just the instant before his lips replaced his thumb and he fitted his mouth against hers, his hand still on her neck.

Her mouth opened instinctively, and his did too, and there was a pause before she felt his tongue brush against hers. She heard herself gasp into his mouth; his response was a low moan that sounded almost like he was purring, and she could feel the vibrations against her mouth as they kissed. Her body leaned in toward his, and his arm flexed around her, keeping her close. She paused to catch her breath, and a slow smile spread across his face. He stepped backwards, letting his hand trail down her arm, catching her fingers, pulling her with him. She stepped back inside, and as she did, stepped out of her heels, leaving them inside the balcony door. Now, she had to look up at him, and he stepped back again, until she could see the white linens of the bed behind him, and he reached out a hand for her, pulling her to him again. “Is this ok?” he asked, his voice huskier, and this time, she felt an involuntarily spasm in her groin. He leaned in, waiting for her answer, staring at her intently.

Her heart hammered her chest and she felt his hand playing at her waist band, tugging at the ends of her blouse, pulling it out of her skirt. When she felt it finally give, and the fingers of his one hand touch the bare skin on her waist, she caught her breath again. And then she heard her own voice, like it didn’t belong to her body anymore. Strong and confident, she answered him out loud in the room – “Yes” – and leaned in to meet his mouth. “Yes.”