After the bath she chose the same soft robe she wore before. It felt warm. With some slippers, she would be comfortable until she retired. She combed out her wet hair and didn’t put on makeup. It was only five thirty but she was exhausted.
He said he would look for her before he left. She expected to find him in her suite. If she opened the door and he wasn’t there, would she be disappointed? Only because she wanted him to leave, so seeing him one more time would be a means to that end. Upon opening the door, she wasn’t disappointed and his presence didn’t startle her. He was seated at the table with the gift in his hand. “You haven’t opened your present.”
“I knew it was from you and thought you might want to see me open it,” she lied.
He set the gift on the table and walked toward her. Although his height dominated her small frame she held her ground and looked up at him as their bodies touched. He pulled her close and held her there with his strong solid arms. Her emerald eyes appeared weary as he examined her face. His eyes softly flickered milk-chocolate brown while his musky fragrance overwhelmed her senses. She wasn’t afraid, only tired. She silently prayed, “Dear God, if he wants me to do something, I hope it is over soon.”
In one swift yet gentle motion he lifted her and carried her to the bed. Although he had a trip to take, he didn’t seem rushed. Instead, he lay her on the bed and leisurely untied her robe. Claire didn’t move as he stood and looked at her body, completely nude, pink from the warm bath, and smelling of bath beads. She didn’t speak, nor did he. There were no instructions, no insults, and no rules. He began to touch her lightly, ran his hand over her breasts, down her stomach, and over her hip bones. She could sense a carnal desire that he was unable to control.
He gently stroked her soft skin with the tips of his fingers. Then he tenderly caressed her body with his lips. Using his mouth he started at her neck, her collar bone, the flesh of her breasts, where he softly enticed her nipples with his tongue. She didn’t want to respond. She wanted to be unfazed by his touch. She kept telling herself, “This is the man that hurt me.” Her mind heard but her body stirred down deep, and uncontrollably her nipples hardened as her back arched, pushing her breasts toward his lips. His mouth tantalized her skin. The open drapes made the room light. She sat forward as he gently removed the robe.
Anthony gasped.
Claire froze, unsure why he made such a sound, and turned to see his face. His features were softer and more concerned than she’d witnessed. He didn’t say a word but tenderly caressed her neck and back with his mouth. His actions were sensual, careful, and tender.
Slowly, he joined her on the bed, and only after ensuring that she was moist and ready did he enter her body. He’d been there before, but this was different. The only sounds from his mouth were incomprehensible noises that made their meaning clear. Soon she responded with the same language. This time it wasn’t just him that experienced fulfillment, Claire did too.
After they were both satisfied, she rested on the satin sheets and watched as he walked to the table completely nude and moist with perspiration. His muscles defined from exertion, he picked up the gift. She lifted her head from the pillow, her long damp brown hair cascaded in waves around her face. Her lips smiled weakly as he handed it to her. He watched as she removed the wrapping from the black velvet box that held a Swarovski wristwatch. She smiled.
“It is meant as a way to avoid glitches in the future,” he said softly.
“Thank you. I would really like to avoid those.”
She handed him the box and lowered her head to the pillow. Completely drained of energy, she closed her eyes and felt the soft warmth as Anthony lifted the covers over her body. She could still smell his musky scent as she drifted into unconsciousness. She didn’t wake until Monday morning.
In that time between sleep and wakefulness, Claire wondered if yesterday evening had been real. How could it be real if Saturday was too? Could Anthony Rawlings really be two such different men? As the fog began to clear she realized that whoever he was he was gone for the next two and a half days. This comprehension gave her a renewed vitality. She didn’t know what she would do with her sixty-five hours of freedom but she knew she would find something.