What She Needs - Lacey Alexander [79]
It was a relief when he moved on—even though she knew she had nothing to be self-conscious about. Sometimes it was hard to remember that everyone here had come for sex and was doing it with strangers—so having a handsome black man sing a romantic song to her was hardly a big deal.
Except that . . . well, this just shored up her fears. That she could be free and wild with Brent, but inside she remained the same old Jenna who shied away from sexual situations until she was deeply involved in a relationship. And now, after a few days and nights with Brent, she knew something else, too—what she’d thought was good sex for her entire adult life had actually been . . . pretty average. Even if, looking back, she could remember particular moments of glory, none held a candle to the level of pleasure she’d experienced here, with Brent Powers.
The band went on break when her food arrived, which bummed her out a little—her distraction was gone. Yet she’d already resumed being a little depressed, so she decided she’d just eat her chicken sandwich, then mope back to her room. Maybe she’d just be old Jenna tonight. Not that her old self moped—she never had, actually, because before coming here she’d truly been convinced she was happy with her sex life. But the old Jenna was content to spend an evening with a good book, and maybe that was the thing to do here. Quit pushing herself to stay “up” for every second of this. It was okay not to be immersed in sensuality every minute. In fact, it was probably smart. Soon life would go back to normal—so perhaps it was prudent to keep some aspects of it normal even while she was here, so the transition wouldn’t feel so shocking.
She’d just lifted her wineglass for a final sip when she looked up to see her sexy Jamaican heading her way. Oh boy. Her heart beat too fast, but she met his gaze and tried not to be nervous. She wished she felt as brave with him as when they’d danced together, but it seemed her most recent emotions with Brent colored her reactions to this man, too.
“I’m happy to see you back this evening, pretty lady,” he told her, his expressive brown eyes saying more. Sensing his honest admiration helped her relax a little.
Still, she tried to play it cool—since, in fact, she hadn’t returned because of him. “I enjoy your music,” she said, then gazed out over the setting sun and the blaze of colors it sent streaking across the sky. “And you can’t beat the view.”
When she looked back up, his eyes remained firmly planted on her. “The view is pleasant for me, too.”
Oh boy. His smooth-as-silk voice made her chest spasm lightly.
Just then, he glanced over his shoulder to where the other band members were reconvening on the deck’s small corner stage. “Ah, I waited too late to say hello—I must go, but you have a lovely night.”
“Well . . . thank you. For coming over,” she said, stuck for how to reply.
“The next song is for you,” he told her in parting, and she thought, Wow—okay, yes, there are officially sexual vibes passing between us. Which felt a little weird. She’d never been attracted to a man anything like this one before. He was a musician. He was Jamaican. She suspected she understood even less about his world than she did about Brent’s.
When the steel drums began again, she recognized the song—the reggae version of Peter Frampton’s “Baby, I Love Your Way.” Her calypso singer’s voice delivered the sensual lyrics with a sexy lilt she felt in her panties, especially when their eyes met.
Jenna remained at her table for a while longer, enjoying the music and the night, and all in all, by the time she departed, she felt better—about everything. So she was madly in love with Brent—big deal.
Well, all right, yes, it was a big deal. Because whether it was love or just infatuation, it could still totally consume her. But she had to be practical here. She’d known Brent a week—which meant that when she went home, she’d get over him. That simple. And maybe her fears about being able to get wild only with