Chapter 8 EIGHT

Marissa awoke to the soft glow of morning light filtering through the curtains. The memory of the previous night's kiss lingered, vivid and consuming. She lay still, the sheets tangled around her, as she replayed the moment over and over-the warmth of Lazar's lips, the intensity in his eyes, the way the world had seemed to pause.

Her fingers brushed her lips, still tingling from the contact. A mix of emotions surged within her: desire, confusion, and a longing she hadn't anticipated.

When was the last time she felt that way?

It's been about ten years since she was ever kissed. Last night's kiss was different from the others she had ever had. It was passionate, filled with genuine desire and longing.

It had her head spinning, even now.

But, in the end it was wrong.

She was married. How could there ever be anything between them?

She had always scolded and secretly judged Tracy for her affair, and now, she was getting stolen kisses from a stranger who she didn't even know his real name.

Whatever was happening was not what she had planned nor expected?

Marissa spent most of the day curled on the chaise lounge.

She barely touched her lunch. Her thoughts circled like restless waves-what had last night meant? How could something feel so powerful and confusing and wrong all at once?

By late afternoon, a soft knock broke her stillness. Lilian entered, along with her cheerful smile that Marissa had come to love.

"I came to invite you to the local evening dance tonight," she said, her warm gaze steady on Marissa. "It's a weekly tradition here. The guests love it. Music, food, firelight... maybe it will lift your mood a little."

Marissa hesitated. "A local dance?" she wasn't sure she was up for anymore activity.

"It's not formal. It's a simple tradition," Lilian reassured, when she saw the hesitation on her face. "Just color, music, and laughter. Come. You might like it."

After Lilian left, she thought about it.

She just wanted to stay in and away from people, but that was proving hard.

She didn't want to meet Lazar. She couldn't face him. At least, not yet.

She needed all the time she could get, so that when they meet again, she would set him straight.

Was she even that brave? She sighed.

That evening, Marissa dressed simply-a soft, flowing dress in emerald green that hugged her frame with quiet elegance.

She wore a pair of gold strappy sandal heels-delicate and elegant. The slim straps wrapped gracefully around her ankles, secured with a tiny buckle on the side. The heel wasn't too high, just enough to give her posture a subtle lift and sway, enhancing the flow of her emerald gown. Simple, tasteful, and striking.

Marissa stood before the tall mirror, smoothing the fabric of her emerald gown with uncertain fingers. Her hair was pulled back loosely, with the ends brushing her shoulders.

She turned slightly, checking her profile. The neckline was modest, the fabric light, but something about the way it all came together made her pause. Simple. Elegant. But perhaps... a bit much for a local dance?

But she couldn't bring herself to change.

A soft sigh escaped her lips.

There was something about the night-that made her want to feel... beautiful.

Perhaps, it was the kiss?

She dabbed on a soft tint to her lips, checked her reflection one more time, then whispered to her own reflection, "It's just a dance." Yet even she didn't believe that.

Marissa stepped into the night.

The garden had transformed. Paper lanterns floated above, strung between palm trees. Fire torches lined the open space where some moved slowly to the rhythm of drums and soft local instruments. The smell of grilled fish, roasted plantains, and spiced drinks hung thick in the salty air.

Marissa lingered by the edge, a glass of fruit wine in hand. She watched the dancers, the laughter, the warmth of a world so different from her own. She was an observer, floating on the edge of something she couldn't quite touch.

It wasn't bad, after all.

She found herself smiling and nodding to the music.

And then, she felt it.

A presence.

She turned-and her breath caught.

Lazar.

He stood just a few feet away, wearing a dark buttoned shirt and slacks, his eyes focused only on her. For a moment, neither of them moved. The firelight played over his face, catching the faint smirk tugging at his mouth.

How long had he been standing there beside her?

"I didn't expect you'd be here," she said, barely above a whisper when he advanced closer.

"Not when I know you'd be here," he replied. Then, his eyes flicked over her face, dropped to her neckline, dropped even lower and down her length.

Marissa just watched him silently, unsure of what to say.

"I'm not good at staying away from you." He moved closer, his voice taut with emotions.

Her heart raced.

"You're so beautiful, Marissa."

Their gaze held and locked. Her heart was racing and the tingling in her stomach wouldn't stop.

She smiled up at him. The biggest smile she could muster.

They stood there, in the moment, aware of the charged electric that sparked between them.

A fir cracker went up over them and Lazar broke the electrifying eye contact, looking up with a smile and Marissa followed his gaze.

She still had her eyes up, when she felt her hand taken and a breath behind her ear.

"Dance with me." It wasn't a request. His fingers warm and sure.

She returned her eyes to his face and without any resistance, he wrapped his free arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him.

They moved together slowly under the swaying lights, the air thick with drumbeats and murmured conversations. He held her close but not possessively. One hand at her waist, the other at her back-every movement smooth, controlled, intimate.

"Are you always this hard to walk away from?" he asked against her ear.

Her breath hitched. "I don't know," she murmured. "Are you always this persistent?"

He gave a low chuckle. "Only when I'm not done with someone."

They danced through two songs. The night air cooled her cheeks, but his closeness sent warmth spiraling through her.

Oh! How I could go on dancing and dancing? But of course, the night had to end.

As they walked back to her villa, hand in hand, they could already tell what the night held.

The resort corridors seemed to pulse with their heartbeat, every step unfolding longing and restraint. By the time they reached her villa, the air between them hummed with unquenchable desire.

Lazar paused in the doorway, gaze lingering on her-on the curve of her neck, the deep shimmer of her eyes. She watched him, breath caught at the implication of what might come next.

Inside, the room was dim, the four-poster bed shrouded in soft linen curtains that fluttered with the night breeze.

He stepped forward, gentle but sure. Their lips met in a kiss both tender and urgent, as if they'd been waiting for this moment all their lives. Hands moved over each other, exploring, claiming-not out of desperation, but a slow, consuming need.

Sensation made her swoon, and she could feel her heart turning over and over as his mouth took hers richly, deeply, with a warm insistent passion that dominated every sense in her body. There was only this moment, only this loss, in all the world...

It lasted an eternity--it lasted only the briefest moment of time. He drew back from her, his gaze pouring into hers. She felt liquid, boneless.

"I want you so much..." His voice was a low husk.

She could only sway in his clasp, lifting her mouth to his again, aching and yearning for his touch.

"I want you too," she whispered. Marissa knew she was defying all the rules in her book, but in that moment, the world could go ahead and burn for all she cared.

Triumph glistened in his eyes and he gave a low rasp in his throat as he kissed her again, hungrily, voraciously, sweeping her up into his arms and carrying her into the room.

Marissa didn't even stop to think how the door was open, but she was grateful it was.

Inside, the room was dim, the four-poster bed shrouded in soft linen curtains that fluttered with the night breeze. The air warm warm inside, and in the bedroom, as he lowered her to the turned-down bed, the heat was a cocoon around them.

As he trailed kisses along her collarbone, she closed her eyes, surrendering to the sensation-the soft gasp of air, the electricity between them building.

Her body seemed aflame-all her senses aflame. Swiftly, skillfully, he slid her dress from her body, baring her to his view in the dim light and went down to work on her heels.

She slipped her arms up above her head, so that her breasts lifted. His eyes were hungry for them. She heard him murmur something, but her body was focused only on the sensations he was arousing.

Dear God, but it was blissful--blissful!

His mouth closed over the crested coral peaks, suckling and caressing with his lips, his tongue. A sound came from her throat--strange, powerful.

His mouth slipped from her breasts, easing down over the taut line of her stomach.

Her hands reached for him, clutching over his shoulders, tugging his shirt from him in movements that became increasingly impatient. He paused, shrugging the garment from him and while he was at it shedding the rest of his clothes as well. With a gasp, she realized that he was completely naked now-completely hers!

With a tight moan, she drew him down on her, feeling the warm, hard length of his body. Her lips lifted to his as he responded, one iron hard thigh slipping between hers. She trailed her fingertips delicately long his spine.

Urgency filled him. Desire was peaking in him and wanted...needed...to fulfil it.

For one long, endless moment he gazed down into her face, transfixed by what he was arousing in her.

God, she was so, so beautiful!

He heard her murmur his name, sounding urgent, so urgent in her need for him.

With a surge, he was there, filling her deeply, fully, hearing her cry out.

His body started to move in an age-old, primeval rhythm, possessing him even as he now possessed her.

Her hands clung to him, her throat arched back, her hips pressed against his to take him within her. And with each stroke, he was taking her further and higher and deeper. And the pleasure was so intense.

She cried out. She could hear it. Then another voice joined hers--deep-throated, hoarse, as urgent as hers. Then, when their sated, exhausted bodies could take no more, she felt the burning begin to ebb, the throbbing of her core lessen.

She could only let her fingers drift across his back, feeling the exhaustion as they lay wound about each other. How long she lay there, entwined with him, she did not know.

Here in Lazar's arms, in his embrace, was world enough for her.