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Instead of giving the terrycloth to her, he stepped forward and wrapped her up, not just in the softness, but in his arms. And what do you know. As she leaned into him, she didn’t care about drying off.
This time, as she closed her eyes and breathed in deep, she saw nothing. She was too busy feeling him.
“I need to stop thinking,” she whispered. “I really… want to be with you. Make love to me?”
“Always.”
Tucking the towel around her, he took her hand and led her into the bedroom. They hadn’t turned the lamps or the overhead fixture on, and with the glow from the bath, things were almost candlelit. When they got to the bed, he unwrapped her body and patted the duvet.
“My hair is all wet.”
“And I’m going to take care of that.”
As she sat down, she looked up at him. His expression was rapt as he brought the towel to her head and began to massage her still-dripping waves. The motion was hypnotic and she swayed as his big hands went back and forth, back and forth, her breasts following the movement, the tightening tips brushing against the waistband of his jeans.
Thinking of what was behind his fly, she ached for what he once had, but she couldn’t let that sadness take over.
Here and now, she reminded herself. This was what they had.
And it was good.
Daniel dropped the towel to the floor and stared down at her. He had a slight smile to his mouth, one that was anticipation wrapped up in a tilt to the lips, and as he bent to kiss her on the forehead, she put her hands on his hips.
“It’s okay to stop thinking.” He brushed his fingers through her damp hair, capturing it and twisting the weight into a rope that he laid down on her spine. “The crisis will be there in the morning. It doesn’t mean you don’t care about what happens to him.”
“You always know what to say to me, don’t you.”
Holding on to the bedside table for balance, he lowered himself to his knees. “Close your eyes.”
She followed the command, and took a deep breath.
“When was the last time I told you how beautiful you are?”
Lydia laughed a little and looked at him again. “It’s pretty often. You spoil me.”
“Just speaking my truth. Now shut those eyes… and feel me.”
The first thing she was rewarded with was a brush on her cheek. His fingertip. And then it traveled slowly to her jaw and followed around to her lower lip. Back and forth the caress went, as a kiss would, until her mouth parted when she gasped—and as if she’d given him the response he’d been waiting for, the touch continued on. Now… it was on the side of her throat, moving to her collarbone. Oh, God, she knew where he was heading and her nipples peaked even further—
Except he went between her breasts, that hovering touch tracing her sternum.
“I’m such a lucky man,” he said hoarsely.
Her lids flipped open; she couldn’t help herself. It was the hunger in his voice, and sure enough, he was staring at her body with his eyes at half-mast, a very masculine expression of need on his face.
“Look at you.” His fingertip continued on to her belly button. “You make me feel like a man.”
Reaching out, she put her hands on his face and tilted it back so their eyes met. “That’s because you are one.”
She pressed her lips to his, and he kissed her back, licking his way into her mouth. The sensations were achingly familiar, and yet new every time, the warmth and the slick plying a kind of drug that relaxed the tension in her shoulders—and relocated it in a coil in her gut.
“Close your eyes some more,” he murmured. “Feel me…”
Giving herself over to him, she trembled as he followed the path of where his finger had gone with his lips, kissing her jaw, her throat… that collarbone. Her breath got unbearably tight as the whispering nuzzles went between her breasts.
There was a pause. That seemed to last a hundred years.
“Please,” she begged.
