He winks and walks off towards the basement. If I weren’t so turned on, I’d laugh. Instead, I hurry back to my room and tear through my suitcase. I went shopping after I got the text from him, securing a few new items, just in case.
I could play it safe. Wear something conservative. Practical as he suggested. Or I could go…a different route. See how far I can push before his restraint breaks.
Yep. I want to see an unleashed James. The one that’s done holding back.
***
NewFrenchdoorsopenbehind the pool table onto the newly constructed patio.
The hot tub isn’t your typical plop-it-down-on-the-ground model. They installed it in the ground and laid a stone patio across the entire length of the basement. But it’s the rest that stops me in my tracks. A gorgeous wooden trellis spans the ceiling and sides, with vines and garden lights twined throughout. There are pots filled with trees separating the hot tub from the view of the woods.
James stands in the center. Black swim trunks. Soft instrumental music playing.
“What do you think? Since everything was fine with the foundation, I needed something to keep me around for a few days. So I came up with the trellis and plants. I thought Margaret would appreciate it.” His eyes narrow and darken, seeing my eyes travel the length of his body. My not-so-discreet ogling. He stands there and lets me get my fill.
I take my time, appreciating every ripple of muscle. The dark hair that trails down to his waistband. His legs are sculpted from thousands of miles. Finally meeting his eyes, I smile, feeling the blush on my cheeks. He hits me with that cocky smirk. I exhale shakily, steadying my nerves.
“This is amazing. I can’t believe you made this. Since when do architects do the actual building?” I cinch the tie on my robe, overwhelmed about the idea of dropping it—and showing him my forty-year-old body, with all his perfection on display.
“I know how to use a saw. I enjoy the building part. Picked up a thing or two kicking around construction sites.” He takes a step closer. “Are we going to stand here all night talking about the woodwork or are you going to drop that robe and get into the water?”
My pulse stutters, my heart thrashing against my chest. I turn away, trying to gather some of the courage I had upstairs when this idea seemed wise.
“It’s not fair how handsome you are. You know I’ve had a kid and things aren’t…”
He’s standing in front of me before I can finish the thought. “Don’t do that. I’ve imagined this more times than I care to admit. Is it okay if I undo this tie?”
I nod and wrap my shaking hands behind my back. He slowly undoes the knot, and the robe falls open an inch, not enough to see anything. His hands tremble, reaching for the fabric on my shoulders.
He lets out a muffled groan and backs up a few steps. His ribs expand with each slow exhale as he stares, drinking me in. The flare in his eyes is exactly what I need.
I let the robe fall to the ground. I stand before him. Sheer black bra. Matching thong.
There might be fabric separating his eyes from my body, but everything is visible.
A pin drop would’ve sounded like a scream in the charged silence.
After a long moment, he takes a deep breath and closes the distance between us. His thumb traces the curve of my bottom lip, a delicious humming noise rumbling from the back of his throat.
I lift my chin, and he leans in. For a second, a sweet prelude—our mouths ghost over each other and we pause, breathing in this mind-shattering tipping point we’ve dreamed of for years.
Our lips meet in a kiss that’s anything but tentative.
It’s achingly sweet—not soft, but slow and deliberate. His knuckles trace along my cheek, sending a shiver down my spine. I press closer, aching to be folded into him.
One hand cups the nape of his neck as my lips part, my head tilting to deepen the kiss. He lets out a groan, and fire ignites in my blood. I pour into it every ache, every unspoken longing I’ve buried. All that exists is the heat of his body pressed to mine, the taste of him on my tongue, mingling with the woodsy scent of his cologne mixed with the bitter winter air.
Everything I want is here with me—Anna is tucked into bed upstairs, and James is kissing me in this little Eden he created.
When his hands find their way into my hair, he pulls back, breathless and shaken. “God, I’ve missed you.”
“Me too.” I kiss his dimple, his cheekbones, his temple, his mouth. “I know I’ve messed this up so many times. But I’m here now. Fully. Completely.”
I cradle his face in my hands, memorizing the texture of his rough stubble and sharp jaw. I’ve imagined touching them a thousand times, searching for the words to tell him the depth of my feelings. To give him the words he’s so freely given to me over the years.
“James, when I look at you, it feels like I’m finally breathing. You made me believe there was more to life than enduring it.”
He claims my mouth again. Goosebumps line my arms, and a shiver runs up my spine from his effect on me. From the bitter air.
