Bad Boy

The moon hanging over the lake painted one side of her body silver; the other was coppery from the candles. It was enough for the moment merely to look, to feel my lungs fill, my blood rush from sheer beauty. To feel alive when she looked at me.

She smiled, the faintest curve of lips and dimples. That was the moment. I felt it happen, a catch coming undone in my chest, something unbearably light tumbling out.

I want to let you in, I thought.

Please, God, don’t hurt me.

Tam stood and glided toward the windows, and I followed. In her wake trailed ribbons of her scent, curling, wrapping my head in a veil of her. I stopped without touching, but close enough that our body heat merged. Her spine arched toward me.

Lake Michigan had begun to freeze, jagged ice lining the shore, jutting in wild formations like rock candy. Moonlight shattered on it, spraying metallic shards into the night. And the snow came down, relentlessly soft, over it all.

“Touch me,” Tamsin whispered.

I didn’t use my hands. I pressed my lips to her naked shoulder blade.

Her head craned back.

I laid my palms on the icy glass, bracketing her. Rubbed my rough cheek over the curve of her shoulder, touching her as softly as snow touched the city.

Her skin was so sheer, so smooth. If I touched it too much I would not be able to stop.

“I think of you.” Her hand slid down my thigh. “When I get myself off, I think of you. I’ve wanted you since that first night.”

The strangest feeling: apprehension and desire, braiding together.

“What if I don’t live up to your fantasies?” I said.

“What if I don’t live up to yours?”

I ran a finger along her throat. “That’s ridiculous. You are everything I want.”

She turned around and said, “Likewise.”

The walk to her room was a dance.

We circled each other in a slow orbit as we moved through the candlelit bar to the chandeliered lobby. Never broke eye contact till our bodies were close. In the elevator, her toe dragged up my trouser leg. I ran a thumb down her spine. When the doors opened she darted out and twirled once, raising her dress. Showing me the dark sheen of her thighs. I didn’t rush. Steady stalk as she waited at her room, tapping the key card against her chin. By the time I caught up she was already inside.

The door clicked shut behind me. Dark save for the bathroom light, a bright gap separating us.

“Nowhere left to run, Ms. Baylor.”

Tamsin kicked her heels off. I caught one, slid a finger inside along the warm leather insole.

“Get over here,” she said, “and do that to me.”

I crossed the room.

For a moment we danced again, turning circles. Then I grasped her jaw in both hands. Her mouth half opened, eyes falling half-shut. That beautiful surrender when a girl gives herself to you. I brought my lips close and she breathed faster, faster, her body trembling toward me as I held her in place, drank in the burnt-sugar whiff of rum, and lifted her chin at last and kissed her.

We’d done this before, but this time, behind the momentum was a wild abandon, a letting-go. This time we weren’t going to stop.

The kiss was fierce, a discharge of tension, the electricity between us grounding itself in our skin. We craved more friction. Tamsin raked her teeth over my lip. Pressed her cheek against my stubble. Her hands were all over me, raising static from the wool suit, then touching my face in pops of little blue sparks. I put my tongue inside her mouth, slow and hard. Thrust into that softness like melting silk. The slower I went the more she softened, letting me fuck her mouth. My hand trailed down her dress to the hem, to see if she was wet there, too.

Tam tilted her mouth away and said, “Can I touch you?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere you want.”

She mirrored my movement, ran a hand over my chest to my fly. My teeth clicked together. She looked into my face. Touched it with one hand while the other moved between my legs.

I wasn’t packing. Not for this, the first time. Nothing there but my own body.

Either that body was enough for her, or not.

Either I could bear someone touching me that way again, or not.

Tamsin didn’t hesitate. She cupped my dick, squeezed. A deep moan escaped through my teeth.

“Is this okay?” she said, but her expression was pure mischief.

In response I slid my palm against her panties. “Is this?”

“Oh, bloody—” she started, and I covered her mouth with mine.

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