Chapter 19
Andrea barely knocked on the door before she pulled him inside and pressed his back against it.
“Did you get the goods?” she asked, as if he were smuggling in contraband. She pulled the neck of his T-shirt down and kissed along his collarbone.
“Maybe.” He ran his hands down her back.
“Seriously?” She paused and looked up at him.
“We are all set. I had to make a little exchange with a tennis player I know who was luckily coming through town anyway and didn’t mind making a quick stop.”
“You basically Deliveroo’d a condom.”
“I told you I was resourceful.”
“I don’t think you should run for mayor. You should run for president.”
“Come here,” said Andrea, hooking his finger into the tie at the waist of her dress.
He pulled her close again, running his hands up her back.
She could already feel the ache settle back in her core.
“This is too much talking. I want to take you upstairs now. And I am not sure what you have planned for the rest of the day, but you will not be doing any of it. If that’s not what you want, let me know now.
But if it is”—he paused, looked her dead in the eye, and pointed up the stairs—“go.”
She stared at him for a second, turned around, and walked up the stairs.
By the time she got into the room, he was just a few steps behind her.
He took off his glasses and set them on top of the bureau, then pulled her back to his chest, kissing her neck, running his hands all over her breasts, shoulders, stomach.
One hand reached to her inner thigh, dragged upward, feeling her through the thin fabric of her dress.
She tried to turn around, but he kept her there, finally pulling up the skirt to her waist, then sliding his hand back down to where she was warm and wet and wanting.
She reached back to feel him, so hard she couldn’t believe he was standing.
“You have to let me kiss you,” she whispered.
He obliged, turning her around and covering her mouth with his.
She fingered the edge of his shirt, unbuttoning it from the bottom and sliding it apart slowly so she could drag her fingers along his stomach.
He unzipped her dress, letting it fall to the floor, and she pushed him back onto the bed.
She kneeled over him, pulling off her bra, and then reached down to unbutton his pants and slide them off as he kicked at his shoes.
He held her hands, stopping them for a second, and reached over to where his pants draped off the bed, pulling out his wallet.
He opened it and slid out a condom, leaving it on the bed next to them.
“We will use this. But not yet.”
“Oh, no?”
He shook his head. Reaching up for her face, he brought her to lean over him and kissed her deeply, slowly, his tongue sweeping over hers like he was savoring every taste.
She felt a shift in the energy between them.
Pretense was gone. The gloves were off. There would be no more pretending not to want each other when wanting each other was all there was.
Andrea grabbed her hips, sliding his hands down and inward until he pressed his thumb to her most sensitive spot and rolled those delicious circles again.
She gasped and leaned back, her hands going behind her to rest on his thighs as the delicious pressure made her hips involuntarily undulate to meet it.
She wanted this to last and last, but he wouldn’t let her settle there.
He pulled hard on her hips, sliding down the bed at the same time so that her body hovered right over his mouth.
She watched his eyes flick up to hers, hungry and wicked, and his hands guided her hips to sink down.
She arched and rolled her head back, her senses overwhelmed with the feeling of him under her.
There was no way she could control the movement of her hips against his tongue or her sharp gasps of pleasure.
Any lingering thoughts of what should or should not be between them fell away.
She felt like she was disintegrating, melting, coming apart.
Her thighs shook, making it seem like she might collapse from sensation, but his hands grasped her hips, keeping her steady.
A white heat drew up within her, and she heard herself crying out as lightning ripped through her, spinning her into constellations and back down into the room, the bed, and this man’s mouth.
She leaned off of him, sweating and sated, and curled up on her side.
“What the hell was that?” she asked.
“Irrational behavior.” He grinned and rolled toward her, kissing her on her forehead.
“Who would have thought?” She scooted closer, resting her knee on his hip.
She smoothed her hand across his shoulder and down his arm.
His skin was soft and glowy in the afternoon light.
She couldn’t remember the last time she was naked with someone in the middle of the day, much less someone who looked like a classical painting came to life right there on the duvet.
“What do you mean?” he asked, brushing her hair back from her face.
“Nothing. Just that you’re not what I expected.”
“I consider it a compliment—that I surprise you.”
“Well, you definitely do,” she said as she ran her hands along the curves of his chest and abdomen, down to his stomach, and lower where he was rigid and waiting.
She wrapped her hand around him, then stroked lightly, listening for his breath, learning.
Crouching closer, she ran her tongue across the tip and felt him shudder.
“Will you let me do it again?” he asked.
“Yes, please.” She smiled.
Andrea reached for her, brushing his fingers across her lips before taking his mouth to hers.
He coaxed her body under his as though he could sense that she craved the feeling of being covered.
He leaned down to kiss her again, and as his hand grazed across the petal skin of her breast, she drew in a breath.
His mouth followed his hands as he gently licked across the tight nipple.
She arched back into the bed, feeling sparks scatter across her skin as his hands grazed lightly down her abdomen and back up over and over.
His hands seemed to know her body, finding the sensitive spots as he bent low to lay kisses along the underside of her breasts, below her earlobe, the crease between her leg and her hip.
Lora wanted, needed, more of him. She felt around for the condom package, found it, and held it in her hand.
He grinned at her greed and nodded as he leaned back and away from her, allowing her to open the package, then glide her hand with his as he slipped it on.
Finally his hand dipped low, and he played his fingers over her center as he watched her face react.
“You don’t want me to stop, do you?” he whispered, increasing pressure.
“No, no, no,” she repeated as she reached down and grasped the length of him, feeling his heat.
She leaned up to kiss him, to bring him to her.
He obliged with his mouth and his body at the same time, pushing gently into her as his lips met hers.
She gasped again as he brought her right leg up and around his hip and continued to glide into her steadily.
It was good, so good. But also urgent, aching, tender, and raw.
His body was a shield against doubts and fears, tomorrows and yesterdays, and nothing could get through.
The only thing that mattered was here on this bed, and it might have been the wrong choice, but it felt like the only one.
He agreed. He had to. No one had ever made her feel like this, and it had to be for the simple reason that it would be over before it started.
His pectoral muscles flexed, and she reached up to touch the smooth skin over the taut strength beneath.
They moved together, seamless and deep, like there could be no space between them.
He found her hands, pulling them over her head, and slowed down, looking directly into her eyes.
For a moment, she wanted to close hers, stop herself from getting lost in memorizing the patterns of color and light there that would only mean Andrea—forever.
Mercifully, he squeezed his eyes shut and picked up the pace, pulling himself back up and straight over her.
She held on to his arms as the pressure and fire built within until finally she broke again, covering her mouth with her own hand.
And then he broke too, shuddering, groaning her name, scooping her close.
His breath was ragged as he shifted onto his side next to her, planting small kisses on the side of her face and neck.
As she lay on her back staring up at the ceiling, her cells felt rearranged.
And while half of her wanted to analyze what had just happened, scrutinize the evidence of what she’d felt, and kick the tires on her firm resolve, the other half wanted to lie there, dazed, until the afternoon became night.
It was Lora’s idea to have ice cream for dinner.
They’d fallen asleep sideways on her bed, and by the time they’d woken up, neither of them had the slightest motivation to cook.
There was a gourmet gelato shop one town over that showcased those impressive mounds of ice cream doused in cookies, cherries, or pistachio cream, but what Andrea really wanted to do was go down to the beach bar where they’d have to settle for regular pistacchio or cioccolato crammed into a tiny cup with a plastic spoon.
The night was too perfect to be in a car, and since he knew there weren’t many left with her, walking down the long stairway to the beach for ice cream seemed like the right thing to do.
“If I don’t have to scoop it, I am in,” she said, slipping on her sneakers and pulling her hair into a ponytail.
“We will try to keep you away from hard labor tonight.”
“It’s not that. I just—well, I have to confess something,” she said as they walked out onto the street and headed toward the beach.