Hidden Depths

CHAPTER ONE

AN isolated beach on a clear spring day was a wonderful place to think. As Olivia Forster lazed on a towel in her red bikini, the thought she worked on was this: She and her husband James were different from their married friends.

Olivia couldn’t say why exactly. They all had similar high-powered jobs and comfortable houses on Long Island. They’d all been married around two decades and were within a stone’s throw of forty from either side. In Olivia’s opinion, all of them were attractive, though some of the women obsessed about their weight. They weren’t necessarily intellectuals, but neither were they idiots. Their marriages had reached the vintage where they knew relationships needed work. More importantly, none were so lazy or uncaring that they wouldn’t put in that work. All of them had at least one child who’d reached adulthood more or less in one piece.

Despite these similarities, Olivia had observed that although she and James were happy, their friends were - to greater or lesser degrees - habitually dissatisfied with their lives.

Her inner perplexity must have showed in her expression. James, her darling husband of mumble-mumble years, rolled toward her on their shared beach towel. He was tall and dark and just as handsome to her as he’d been when he was twenty. Every day, they worked together at the multimedia firm they’d founded twelve years ago, which could have been awful but turned out to be the best job either of them ever had. Olivia still loved seeing James in his suit and tie, though - as head of accounting - she rarely wore anything fancier to work than a blouse and jeans. He teased her about that, but never angrily. He seemed to like that she couldn’t be swayed from her favorite things.

Since he was one of those favorite things, she supposed that made sense.

“Hey,” he said now, tapping her furrowed brow. Hardly minding the interruption, she turned her head toward him. As she did, he gave her the killer grin that had seduced her the day they met. It was boyish and crinkly and genuinely affectionate. Every time she saw it, her heart warmed impossibly.

She was so lucky he’d fallen in love with her.

“I know we’re playing hooky,” he said, “but now you’re playing hooky from me.”

She wriggled around until she lay on her side as well. Her wavy red locks fell forward, reminding her she could use a trim. Despite their unkempt state, she didn’t sweep them back. Like a background that was meant to lull them into intimacy, the Atlantic waves broke foamingly on the shore. Olivia felt as if she were dreaming when she spoke.

“I was wondering why I look at you and feel happy, when Sherri looks at Mark and sees everything she wishes he’d fix about himself.”

“That’s easy. Clearly, I’m perfect.”

“You are not,” she said, shoving his admirably buff chest. “No more than I am.”

“You’re perfect to me.”

“What about my shyness? Or the way I need to organize everything?”

James shrugged one muscular shoulder. “Neither of those things are worth getting upset about.”

“Why aren’t they, though? Why does Dan go ballistic when Kim buys a pair of shoes he thinks she’ll never wear, and you and I let stuff like that roll off us?”

James’s dark brows puckered above his hazel eyes. “Are you suggesting we ought to fight about those things?”

“No. I’m just wondering why we’re different.”

“I believe I told you why we’re different the day I proposed. You and I are soulmates. We’ve been married in lots of lives before.”

Olivia rolled her eyes even though she loved hearing him say this - as she was sure he knew. James was endearingly proud of being romantic. “How do you know our friends aren’t soulmates as well? Can’t soulmates be grumpy?”

James cocked his head, his expression the one he got any time he heard an idea that started his gears turning. His willingness to entertain other people’s viewpoints was part of what made him an excellent CEO.

“I suppose they could be,” he said.

“And,” Olivia said, encouraged by his attitude, “how do you know for sure I’m everything you need in a partner?”

And then she saw it: the tiniest shadow shuttering his friendly hazel eyes. At first, she thought the emotion the shadow inspired in her was fear. Her chest did go tight, and adrenaline certainly surged into her veins. When she looked inside herself, however, fear wasn’t what she found. James loved her. That she knew as surely as the earth going round the sun. Strange as it sounded, she thought her reaction to the idea that James had a secret might be excitement.

Intrigued, she sat up and looked down at him, her hand pressed to the place where her heart pounded in her chest. They both liked to swim every morning before they drove to work, and she was nearly as fit as him. Her red bikini wasn’t something she was embarrassed to be seen in. On the other hand, the way her nipples beaded painfully tight beneath it made her a tad self-conscious. Luckily, James was peering into her eyes right then.

But maybe it wasn’t nice to call that lucky when his expression was so concerned.

“There is something,” she breathed, giving voice to her suspicions. “Something you want that I’m not giving you.”

“Liv,” he cautioned.

“Is it the games?” she asked, her pulse drumming harder. “Do you wish we played them more often?”

He blushed, something he almost never did. His coloring was naturally dark, and usually it hid embarrassment. She glanced at his Speedo, which he carried off a good deal better than most men half his age - and never mind that his choice of swimwear sometimes gave their twenty-something daughter conniptions. If Violet had been around, instead of minding the store at Forster Media, he’d have had to cover himself. His cock was swelling inside the stretchy fabric, the swiftness of its rise and his not insignificant size creating an effect that was thoroughly X-rated.

Apparently, he couldn’t make it go down by reciting baseball scores. As soon as he saw her notice, his hard-on jerked bigger.

Olivia bit her lip and laughed. “You know I like our games, right? I have made that clear to you?”

“I never want to pressure you.”

She cupped his erection gently, hoping the touch was reassuring as well as pleasurable. The latter certainly seemed to be true. His entire bulging package jumped in her hold, his heat and hardness causing her to liquefy.

Violet wouldn’t have wanted to know about that either.

“You never pressure me,” she said. “Some of my favorite memories of us in bed are watching you go wild from me taking charge. What turns you on turns me on. It’s as simple as that.”

To her amazement, tears glazed her husband’s eyes. “I feel the same,” he said huskily.

“Oh sweetheart!” she cried, because he was almost too emotional to get the declaration out.

In that moment, she couldn’t think she was wrong to take such joy in pleasing him. She wasn’t a fifties throwback, as Sherri sometimes accused. James deserved every bit of adoration she gave him.
She swung one leg over his thighs even as he sat up to meet her. He took her face between his strong olive hands. Everything fell away but him, her universe filled with his tenderness. “I love you, Liv. Even more than you understand. I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

He kissed her before she could swear that would never happen. He might like being dominated, but the way he kissed was all man. Twenty years hadn’t dulled the magic of his lips pressing hers open, of his tongue sliding sleek and hard against hers. He had the best lips ever, narrow but expressive, with smooth skin and firm muscles. Employing them to good advantage, he drew a sound of longing from deep within her throat.

She pushed him back and he let her, both their breath coming quicker with anticipation as he fell back against the towel. James’s diaphragm went in and out, emphasizing the development of his upper chest. Somewhat lower, his erection prodded her bikini bottom, tempting her to roll on it. Feeling completely wicked, Olivia untied her bikini top.

“Liv,” he breathed. “Here?”