“You’re still a fucking mermaid.” Treading water, I slide one finger down her beautiful body, starting at her shoulder, up and over her breast and puckered nipple, down her stomach, her thigh.
When I pull my hand away, she rights herself and slides her arms around me, presses her lips to mine. Treading water and kissing is more challenging than it looks, and we end up breaking the kiss on a laugh.
I glide the short distance to the swim deck and pull the ladder down. Laiyla grips the rail, and her gaze wanders to my tattoo. It’s an artistic rendering of gears with measurement sketch lines. She runs her hand over the art. “This makes so much more sense to me now. I love it.”
She takes two steps up the ladder. I’m right behind her and wrap an arm around her waist, pulling the back of her body against the front of mine.
She’s perfect. So fucking perfect. Warm beneath the chill of the water. The curve of her ass presses back against my groin, and my surprisingly still-erect cock loves the feel of her softness. Blood surges that direction. Hunger grows in the pit of my stomach.
I press my face to the hollow between her
head and shoulder, kiss her neck. And I know I can’t stop. Not of my own accord. I need her. I need her too much. I know it. And I know that makes me vulnerable. I know I’m probably going to get my heart pulled out through my throat before this is over. But there is just no substitute for Laiyla. I’ve been searching for years and always come up empty.
She wraps her free hand back and around, sliding her fingers into my hair, and turns her head to catch my mouth. She opens to me. Drops her head back and utterly surrenders to the kiss.
And I’m drowning. In way the fuck too deep. But I sure as shit don’t want to be saved. The way she kisses mirrors the way she moves, hips rubbing, back arching, tongue seducing.
I’m fighting through the lust, trying to figure out how I want this to go. Quick fuck? Drawn-out lovemaking? I don’t know. I can’t think.
I break the kiss to catch my breath, then, standing on a lower rung, I lean into her and release the safety bar so I can use both hands to feel her body. Cupping her breasts, stroking her nipples. Sweeping down her tight abdomen and around her hips. I slide one hand between her legs and cup her heat. And, God, this feels so different from anything I’ve had with any other woman. The moves may be the same, but what’s in my heart is completely different, making this intimacy deeper and more intense.
“Levi.” Her voice is soft and broken by quick breaths. And even after twelve years, I know everything she’s saying with that one word.
I slide my free hand down the back of her thigh, lift her knee and guide her foot up another rung, giving my other hand room to move. She drops her head back, and the moonlight exposes her raw desire. I kiss her and ease my hand deeper between her legs until I brush my fingers over her heat. She sucks the air from my mouth, then returns it on a moan.
The sound claws through me, sparking a deep, dark passion. I cup her head and take the kiss deeper, needier, and sink two fingers inside her. Another gasp, purrs and moans in her throat, a curse. She shivers, and her hips rock into my hand. She knows exactly what she wants.
For the life of me, I can’t understand the earlier insinuation that she hasn’t had orgasms with other men. She’s so responsive, so hungry. And, damn, it’s a fucking turn-on. This is a play right out of my fantasy playbook, fingering her until she begs for release. The idea of hearing her beg lights a fiery need inside me, and I soften my touch, less demand, more tease. She groans and lifts her hips into my hand. It’s a total rush, I can’t lie.
“Levi.” There’s a pleading tone in her voice now. Her fingers fist my hair. And I drop brief kisses to her lips so I can watch her eyes, witness the ecstasy wash through her, knowing I’m the one who delivered. An ego boost for sure, but I figure I’m due.
“If you want orgasms,” I say at her ear, “you’ve got to get out of your head. And it wouldn’t hurt to have a man who’s not afraid to take control. A woman who bosses people around all day has got to want someone to take the reins at night, right? Fuckin’ city boys don’t know what to do with a woman like you.”
Just before she peaks, her eyes slide closed, her mouth drops open on a sound of raw pleasure. I wrap my left arm around her waist, holding her steady as I take her the rest of the way. And when the climax hits, it rocks her body in a hard, jerking release, followed by little quakes and Laiyla loose in my arms.
“Fuck.” She breathes the word, head on my shoulder. She combs her hand through my hair, opens her eyes and meets mine for a long, intense second.
Time freezes somewhere between past and present, and an ache yawns inside me. I still want this. I still want her. Even after twelve years of a broken heart, that hasn’t changed. And after twelve years of trying and failing to replace her with other women, that realization is terrifying.
I tighten my arm around her waist and climb the rest of the way up the ladder, laying her down on the cushioned platform one step up from the fiberglass swim deck.
She angles up, takes my face in both hands, and kisses me long and hot. “Want you,” she murmurs between kisses. “So bad.”
If I could only bottle that desire, I’d pay any price. I kiss her hard, pressing her into the cushion beneath her, let my weight sink onto her, feeling every last inch of her delicious body. I want to own her in a way so fierce, it’s nearly all-consuming, yet another part of my brain knows I can’t have her. That what we had is in the past and this is only a temporary bubble of time that will pop as soon as this is over and our hunger is sated.
All I can do now is drag it out.
I break the kiss for air, then slowly kiss my way down her body, appreciating all the soft skin, all the hills and valleys and planes. When I press a kiss between her legs, she shivers, and an explosion of tingles eddies through my chest. I slide my hands under her ass, her tight, supple ass, use my shoulders to spread her soft thighs and fulfill another long-standing fantasy.
I take my first long taste, and her nails score my scalp. I take another, and her hands fist in my hair. The woman still makes me crazy. Every hint of pleasure fuels the need for more. And before I know it, my face is buried between her legs wringing orgasm after orgasm out of her. I don’t stop until she cups my face, and I look up. Her lids are heavy, her breaths rocking her chest.
“Come here.” Her voice is soft and rich, and I obey, moving up her body, resting on my forearms. I let some of my weight sink onto her, our legs tangled.
Staring into her eyes makes everything slide into slow motion. I scan her face, wishing I could memorize it. While she catches her breath, she traces my face with her fingers, sending me back in time to some deeply bittersweet memories.
I close my eyes and kiss her hand, then take her fingers into my mouth.
She watches me suck them. “This reminds me of…”