A dream couple of days.
She wrapped herself in a sheet and tiptoed out through the open doorway.
He was leaning back in one of the wicker chairs. There was a pile of papers on the table beside him, but given he hadn’t turned on a lamp she figured he wasn’t bothering with work. He looked lost in thought.
Unhappy thought.
But he looked up when she paused a few paces away.
‘You can’t sleep?’ she asked.
‘Insomniac,’ he half joked. But he sounded flat.
‘You’re worried?’
‘You’re astute.’
‘Not really. People who wake in the small hours are usually worried about something.’
‘So what are you worried about?’ he asked.
‘Getting cold,’ she smiled weakly.
But waking without him again had already made her cold. And looking at him now smote her heart. She wanted to wipe away the tortured expression that he was no longer able to mask.
She knew that intense loneliness and despair. She wanted to see him smiling, relaxed, laughing, sated. However she could.
The one way she was certain she could.
‘So many stars overhead,’ she murmured.
‘You revel in all of it, don’t you?’ he muttered. ‘All that enthusiasm… it’s real…’
‘That’s because it’s beautiful,’ she said simply.
‘So are you.’
She shook her head.
‘You are.’ His voice sounded rough. ‘Right now you’re like a pearl, gleaming in the moonlight.’
‘It’s the pale skin,’ she joked. ‘Glows in the dark.’
‘The dress, the make-up, the finish suits you… but so does this…’ He stretched out his arm and grabbed her hand, drawing her closer. When she was near enough he slid his fingers through her hair. ‘So beautiful.’
‘You’re half blinded by the darkness.’
‘Just take the compliment,’ he growled. ‘Or do you want more?’
‘You know what I want more of,’ she murmured, her voice suddenly husky.
She knew exactly what she wanted. And she was doing it. She moved to stand between his feet, then knelt, letting the sheet drop in a pool around her as she did so.
She heard his indrawn breath.
‘Stephanie—’
‘Just let me,’ she interrupted, and ran her hands up his shins and over his knees. ‘You’ve done it for me so many times already.’
‘Not that many. Not enough.’ He put his hands on her waist. ‘And I like it.’
She pushed his hands away, knowing he wanted to lift her to his lap, but she wasn’t having it this time. She pressed her hands on his hard abs and pushed. ‘I like it too. So let me.’
He sank back into the chair.
Pleased, she smiled. Now she could explore him before being submerged in her own sensations. Now she could have the pleasure of taking him to those dizzying heights first for once. She’d relish the chance.
She stroked up his long, muscled legs. He had such a strong, fit body. ‘What do you do to work out?’
‘Run, mostly,’ he answered huskily. ‘You can run anywhere.’
‘And see the sights while you do it?’
He nodded, his head falling back on the chair as she kissed him, moving her mouth nearer and nearer his rigid length.
‘You like being naked outside,’ she teased, so pleased to find him hot and hard and straining for her touch.
‘So do you.’
She chuckled, because he was right. He’d unleashed her inner nudist. Her inner sensualist. And now she utilised all her senses—to touch, taste, and to talk to him. Muttering her appreciation of him, telling him what she wanted to do to him.
Maybe it was moonlight madness, but she felt so free—to tease… to take. She listened to his increasingly ragged responses—his quickened breathing—savoured the scent of his arousal. His every reaction—physical, verbal—sharpened her own.
His hands toyed with her hair and she tilted her head to let him run his fingers the length of it. That he so obviously liked it thrilled her.
Because she liked him. She liked making him tense up, making him groan, making him mutter his need. His pleasure.
‘Stephanie…’ It was a warning.
But she didn’t stop. She was never stopping. Not until she’d tasted all he had to offer.
‘Stephanie!’ He thrust, then arched, locked in a rigid, agonised battle. ‘I can’t—’
His hands tightened, twisting painfully in her hair.
But she didn’t stop. And he didn’t pull her away. She held him, one hand spread wide on his chest, seeking to touch as much of him as she could, her other hand rubbing, holding him still enough so she could suck him, take him as deep into her mouth as she could.