Lightning split the sky again, illuminating the stark contrasts in the room, the white bed linens, Ryan’s white shirt, the dark navy of his suit, the mahogany plank flooring. Simone ignored the storm and unfastened the two remaining buttons, then undid his French cuffs, setting the gold links carefully on the nightstand. Then she pulled his ruined shirt from his trousers; that she let drop to the floor. Piece by piece she took off the clothes that were so wrong for him, the trousers and undershirt, socks and custom-tailored shoes that comprised the armor imprisoning the man he was and would be, until he stood before her in only his skin.
Beyond the rain-lashed windows the ocean roiled and seethed, waves crashing against the beach as forcefully as her heart beat in her chest. She pulled her cotton sweater over her head, inelegantly dislodging the elastic holding her hair in a messy knot. Ah, well, she thought. Sex is rarely perfectly choreographed. Her hair tumbled around her face as she pulled up the silk camisole and unfastened her jeans, then pushed them down, leaving her in a midnight blue chemise and panty set, embroidering stylized birds across the body from the hem to the strap. She’d worked on the set all summer, between clients, between Ryan’s visits. Without knowing he would call she’d put it on tonight because it had come to represent everything she longed for him: bold, wild flight for a man trapped in something so powerful he couldn’t share it.
He reached out with his index finger and followed the birds’ path across her body. “This is what you were making for yourself.”
“While thinking of you,” she replied, and drew him to the bed.
He stretched out on his back, watching with hungry eyes as she straddled him. Her hair curtained their faces as she kissed him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“I needed you,” he murmured back. “You. Always you.”
He seemed hesitant to touch her, his hands coming to rest at the small of her back, but there was nothing hesitant about his mouth, tantalizing and full of promise, the whiskey on his breath, then on her tongue as she rubbed it against his. She held herself above him until he shifted restlessly and closed his hands on her hips, pulling her down and forward. The silk rubbed between their bodies, hot and smooth, transmitting the feel of skin against skin, his heat into hers, her desire into his. Her nipples peaked as she set a rhythm, rocking down then back up, dragging hot, wet silk against his cock until the fabric caught in her folds and slid against her clit. When she whimpered and shuddered, he tightened his arms around her and ground up.
Her teeth clacked against his, blood blooming in her mouth, but she paid no more attention to the blood than she did the storm raging outside the windows. His hand fisted in her hair as his cock nudged against the silk between her legs. She knew how that felt, smooth on nerve endings quivering for attention. The tug of his cock against the silk deliciously chafed her clit. She bit down on his lower lip and held it while he rutted under her.
“Tell me you have a condom,” she gasped into his ear.
“Wallet,” he said indistinctly through the hair trailing over his face.
She scampered off the end of the bed, yanked his billfold from his inside jacket pocket, and tossed it to him. While he opened the inner pocket and pulled out a single packet, she knee-walked back up his legs, watching as he sheathed himself. His gaze lifted to hers and she held it while she pulled the chemise over her head, then wriggled the panties down and off.
Ryan’s gaze darkened as he took in the freckles covering her from her toenails to her hairline. His hands swept from her hips to her breasts, then up to cup her jaw and kiss her. Working blind she reached between their bodies and gripped his erection, then centered herself over him and took him into her, centimeter by centimeter.
He needed this. She wanted it. Tomorrow might bring lies, regrets to last a lifetime, but tonight she was strong enough to give him what he so desperately needed, and strong enough to walk away afterward.
But it was good, hot and electric and as irresistible as she’d imagined. More. Even with the barrier between them her entire nervous system lit up. It was nothing like the stories he’d told. Braced on her elbows, she kissed him and rode him shallowly, working the head of his cock inside her, keeping her mouth pressed to his while the pressure coiled inside her. Skin to skin, slick with sweat, sharing breath, pulses racing. Her hands tightened on his shoulders as she watched the sex flush bloom on his chest and cheekbones. That’s what she wanted, honest desire written on his skin.
Under her, Ryan’s stomach flexed, then he groaned. She channeled the storm raging outside, reshaping the dunes, pounding the sea grass, drawing white light to her nerves, rolling thunder to her heart, and let it all pour over him, washing him as clean as the air after a storm.
She bent to him. “This is you,” she murmured against his mouth, her hair clinging to her cheeks, his neck. “This is your truth.”