Nicholas Sparks - Message in a Bottle

She was beautiful in the candlelight. He ran his tongue between her breasts, down her belly, and past her navel and up again. Her hair caught the light, making it sparkle, and her skin was soft and inviting as they clung to each other. He felt her hands on his back, pulling him closer.

Instead he continued to kiss her body, not rushing the moment. He put the side of his face to her belly and rubbed gently. The stubble on his chin felt erotic against her skin, and she lay back on the bed, her hands in his hair. He went on until she couldn’t take it anymore, then he moved up and did the same thing to her breasts.

She pulled him back to her, arching her back as he slowly moved atop her. He kissed her fingertips one at a time, and as they finally joined as one, she closed her eyes with a sigh. Kissing softly, they made love with a passion kept stifled for the last three years.

Their bodies moved as one, each of them fully aware of the other’s needs, each trying to please the other. Garrett kissed her almost continually, the moistness of his mouth lingering wherever it touched, and she felt her body began to tingle with the growing urgency of something wonderful. When it finally happened, she pressed her fingers hard into his back, but the moment it ended another one started to build again and she began to climax in long sequences, one right after the next. When they finished making love, Theresa was exhausted, and she wrapped her arms around him, holding him close. She relaxed by his side, his hands still gently tracing her skin, and she watched as the candles slowly burned toward their base, reliving the moment they had just shared together.

They lay together for most of the night, making love again and again, holding each other tightly afterward. Theresa fell asleep in his arms, feeling wonderful, and Garrett watched as she slept beside him. Just before he fell asleep, he gently brushed her hair from her face, trying hard to remember everything.

* * *

Right before daybreak, Theresa opened her eyes, realizing instinctively that he was gone. She turned in the bed, looking for him. Not seeing him, she rose and went to his closet, finding a bathrobe. Wrapping it around her, she left the bedroom and glanced toward the darkness of the kitchen. Not there. She looked in the living room, but he wasn’t there, either, and suddenly she knew exactly where he would be.

Stepping outside, she found him sitting in the chair, wearing only his boxers and a gray sweatshirt. Turning around, he saw her and smiled.

“Hey there.”

She stepped toward him, and he motioned for her to sit in his lap. He kissed her as he pulled her to him, and she put her arms around his neck. Then, pulling back when she sensed that something was wrong, she touched his cheek.

“You all right?”

It took a moment for him to answer.

“Yeah,” he said, quietly, without looking at her.

“you sure?”

He nodded, again without meeting her eyes, and she used her finger to make him face her. She said gently:

“You look sort of . . . sad.”

He gave a weak smile without answering.

“Are you sad about what happened?”

“No,” he said. “Not at all. I don’t regret any of it.”

“Then what is it?”

He didn’t answer, and again his eyes shifted away.

She spoke softly. “Are you out here because of Catherine?”

He waited for a moment without answering, then took her hand in his. Finally he met her gaze.

“No. I’m not out here because of Catherine,” he said, almost whispering the words. “I’m out here because of you.”

Then, with a tenderness that reminded her of a small child, he gently pulled her close and held her without saying another word, not letting go until the sky began to lighten and the first person appeared on the beach.

“What do you mean, you can’t have lunch with me today? We’ve been doing this for years—how could you forget?”

“I didn’t forget, Dad, I just can’t do it today. We’ll pick it up again next week, okay?”

Jeb Blake paused on the other end of the phone, drumming his fingers on the desktop.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re not telling me something?”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

Theresa called to Garrett from the shower, asking him to bring her a towel. Garrett covered the mouthpiece and told her he’d be right there. when he returned his attention to the phone, he heard his father inhale sharply.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

Then, in a tone of sudden understanding: “That Theresa gal’s there, isn’t she?”

Knowing he couldn’t hide the truth from him now, Garrett replied: “Yeah, she’s here.”

Jeb whistled, obviously pleased. “It’s about damn time.”

Garrett tried to downplay it. “Dad, don’t make a big deal out of this. . . .”

“I won’t—I promise.”

“Thanks.”

“But can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” Garrett sighed.

“Does she make you happy?”

It took a moment for him to answer. “Yeah, she does,” he said finally.

“It’s about damn time,” he said again with a laugh before hanging up. Garrett stared at the phone as he replaced it in its cradle.

“She really does,” he whispered to himself with a small smile on his face. “She really does.”

* * *

Theresa emerged from the bedroom a few minutes later, looking rested and fresh. Smelling coffee brewing, she went to the kitchen for a cup. After putting a piece of bread in the toaster, Garrett walked to her side.

“Good morning, again,” he said, kissing the back of her neck.

“Good morning again to you, too.”

“sorry about leaving the bedroom last night.”

“Hey, it’s okay. . . . I understand.”

“You mean that?”

“Of course I do.” She turned and faced him with a smile. “I had a wonderful night.”

“So did I,” he said. Fishing a coffee cup out of the cupboard for Theresa, he asked over his shoulder, “Do you want to do something today? I called the shop and told them I wasn’t coming in.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“How about showing you around Wilmington?”

“We could do that.” She didn’t sound convinced.

“Did you have anything else you wanted to do instead?”

“How about we just sort of hang around here today?”

“And do what?”

“Oh, I can think of a couple of things,” she said, putting her arms around him. “That is, if you don’t have a problem with that.”

“No,” he said with a grin. “No problem at all.”

* * *

For the next four days, Theresa and Garrett were inseparable. Garrett ceded control of the shop to Ian, even allowing him to teach the dive classes on Saturday, something he’d never done before. Twice, Garrett and Theresa went sailing; on the second night they stayed out all night on the ocean, lying together in the cabin, rocked by the gentle swells of the Atlantic. Later that evening she asked him to tell her more adventure stories about early sailors, and she stroked his hair as the sound of his voice reverberated against the interior of the hull.

What she didn’t know was that after she’d fallen asleep, garrett left her side as he had their first night together and paced the deck alone. He thought about Theresa sleeping inside and the fact that she would be leaving soon, and with that thought came another memory from years before.

“I really don’t think you should go,” Garrett said, looking at Catherine with concern in his eyes.

She stood beside the front door, her suitcase beside her, frustrated with his comment. “C’mon, Garrett, we’ve already talked about this. I’m only going to be gone for a few days.”