He cupped her center, and she moved against him, parting her thighs for him, giving him easier access. Her eyes closed and a smile curved her mouth as he stroked her. Sean’s own heartbeat thudded painfully in his chest as he watched her ride another wave of pleasure. And when she called his name, he took her mouth again, swallowing that sound and all the others that would follow.
Yeah, he thought wryly, just before his mind shut down, caught in his own trap.
“This is where you burned yourself?” Sean asked an hour later as they stood in the hallway outside a junior suite at the hotel. “What? You a closet arsonist?”
Melinda smiled and shook her head. It was weird, but she’d never felt so tired and so wired all at the same time before. They had spent most of the day out on the water, and just thinking about what they’d done had her stifling a sigh of satisfaction. If that storm hadn’t blown in, she thought wistfully, they might have still been out there.
“No, not an arsonist,” she said on a laugh. Melinda swiped her key card then turned the knob and opened the door to her workroom.
She had never invited anyone into what she thought of as her own private space before. Sean was the first. Ever. Not even Steven had been here. But then, he had never shown any interest in seeing it. Frowning, she realized that Steven had never really even wanted to hear about what she was doing. Or working on. And why was she suddenly having all of these negative thoughts about the man she had been planning to marry? Then she thought briefly about the day she had just spent with Sean, and a tingle of guilt zipped through her. Shaking her head, she stepped into the room, hit the light switch and moved back so Sean could walk past her.
In the middle of the room, he stopped short and did a slow, amazed turn, gaze sweeping across the worktables, the bowls of gems and the glass case filled with finished pieces. “What the—”
“I make jewelry,” she said, closing the door and walking to where her latest designs were tucked safely away.
“Yeah,” he said on a laugh. “I guess you do.”
He followed her and waited while she opened the case and drew out a velvet-covered pallet filled with jewelry she had designed and created right here in this room.
“I work with gold and sterling silver mostly,” she was saying as Sean picked up first a ring, then a pin in the shape of a butterfly. When he moved on to a necklace made of slender threads of gold and topazes draped to hang like tears, she said, “That one is a gift for Kathy’s birthday.”
“It’s incredible,” he said, lifting his gaze to hers.
“Thank you.” A real smile split her face as she read the sincerity in his gaze. She pulled out another tray of rings and said, “These are destined for the jewelry shop in town. I sell them there.”
“You sell—” he stopped, reached across the glass case and caught her left hand in his. Rubbing his thumb across the wedding band he had given her, he asked with a chuckle, “So basically, I bought you a ring that you made.”
“Well, yes.” She looked down at her hand in his. “And you couldn’t have pleased me more. You bought it because you liked it.”
“It’s beautiful, that’s why.”
“Well, you have great taste,” she said with a quick smile.
“Yeah,” he agreed. “I think so.”
He released her hand, and Melinda missed his touch. She watched him look around the rest of the room. “You do amazing work, Melinda. But you sell your stuff way too cheaply. You’re an artist. You should be famous. Selling to Tiffany or something.”
Melinda laughed and felt a swell of pride. Except for Kathy, no one had ever really complimented her work. Sure, she knew it was good. James Noble never had any trouble selling the pieces she took to him. But somehow it was different, and meant more, hearing Sean calling her an artist.
As she put the trays back in the glass case and closed the doors, she said, “That’s one of the reasons I wanted my trust fund so badly. I want to try to expand. Get myself a real workshop set up here on the island. Maybe find a contact or two through our guests and do what I can to get my jewelry some recognition.”
He shook his head as he inspected the neatly laid out and well-organized worktables. “I don’t get it. Why is your stuff only sold in the one store in town? If nothing else, your grandfather could carry it in the hotel gift shop.”
Melinda shrugged sadly. “Grandfather doesn’t entirely approve of me working.”
“Ah.” He nodded.
“He’s old-fashioned—hence the whole get-married-and-be-safe thing. But in his defense,” she said, “I think he was also worried that my work wouldn’t be good enough. That I’d try to sell my stuff and fail and be hurt by rejection.”
“No chance of that,” Sean murmured.
“I hate to keep saying thank you, but—”
He cut her off with a quick change of subject. “So now that we’re married, you’ll get the trust fund and what? Leave Tesoro? Move to the big city and take up jewelry design full-time?”
“No.” She shook her head firmly. That’s the one thing she was absolutely sure of. “I don’t want to leave. This is home. And, after all, it is the only place in the world that I can get the Tesoro Topaz.”
“There is that.” He looked around again before turning his gaze back to her. “So basically, the trust fund is freedom to follow your own heart. Do what you want to do most.”
“Exactly.”
“Then it was worth getting married,” Sean said with a slow smile.
“I’d say so.” Something inside her spun and trembled as he walked toward her with lazy, measured steps.
When he was beside her, he lifted her hand, looked at the burn and asked, “Want me to kiss it and make it better?”
The look in his eyes promised more of what they’d shared earlier on the boat. She shouldn’t want him again. Her body should be sated and happy and perfectly content. Yet, there was still a hunger inside her that she suddenly feared would never really be gone.
Just a few more weeks and this marriage would be over. She’d have her trust fund. Her business. She’d be independent and on her own and why did that all sound so…lonely?
Sean was smiling down at her, his arm snaking around her waist, pulling her close, and Melinda made a conscious decision to stop thinking about the future. To accept today and revel in it.
The truth was, there was nothing she wanted more than to christen her workshop with the birth of memories that would be with her long after Sean had gone back to his own life.