I’ve only been naked, beneath sheets, in the dark. And while the storm bleeds light from the sky with her rain and wrath, a gray luminescence still glows in the windows, leaving all of me bare. Even without the light from outside, the two table lamps bathe the room in a warm gold.
And I’m glad.
If anyone is going to see every inch of me, I want it to be Beau.
And if I had any lingering doubts, he chases them away when he pushes up off the cushions, bringing us face to face.
“My God, Iris.” He kisses me again, hooking an arm low around my back. My breasts press to his chest in a move that makes us both moan. I feel the tenting of his shorts, their sleek fabric between my legs, and I move, needing it. Needing him.
Beau moans again, and his other hand travels down between us until he finds my clit again. I gasp at the contact. It’s never felt so sensitive, so eager to be stroked.
“Iris,” Beau pants against my mouth, his voice strained.
He’s making it hard for me to concentrate. “What?”
“I don’t have a condom.” This whispered confession and his clear disappointment make me fall a little more in love with him.
I smile. “IUD. And I’m clean.” Of this, I’m certain. I swallow as his strokes send sensation spiraling through me. “You?”
“Clean,” Beau says. Then he draws back enough for me to see his frown, never stopping his caresses. “But are you sure? We could wait. We could do other things—”
“I’m sure,” I say in a rush. “We’ll do other things—” Not that I’ve ever done other things, so I’m a little bit nervous about them, but we don’t have to go into that now. The rhythm of Beau’s fingers is building pleasure deeper inside me. “I just want to do this first.”
“Jesus Christ,” Beau groans.
The ache in his voice breaks through my bliss. “Is that bad?”
“God, no.” He chuckles into my neck, mumbling something that sounds likean embarrassment of riches,but the vibration of his laugh and the finesse of his touch are too damn much.
I grab the sides of his shorts. “Can that happen now? Like right now?”
Maybe it’s the urgency in my voice. Maybe it’s the sound of the wind whipping up outside, reminding all living creatures to seize the day. Maybe it’s because I’m pushing Beau over the edge just as I’m about to hurtle myself over it as well, but Beau hikes up his hips and scoots out of his shorts with way more grace than I pantsed myself.
But I’m not thinking about my clumsiness because, right now, my full attention is on Beau in all his glory. His naked beauty is stunning. Humbling.
And I realize what we’re about to do isn’t supposed to be done in darkness, embarrassed under sheets, with your co-stars brother at some party in Marina Del Rey. Or half-dressed in the back of a guy’s Tesla. It’s supposed to happen with the person you trust to walk you through the woods. To batten down the hatches. To join you in battle.
To be your dance partner. For life.
I’ve never done it that way. And the fact that I get to do this—make love for real with Beau—makes my breath hitch.
And I’ve never done it this way either. Not on top. But time slows when I watch him, lying back on my couch, take himself in hand—God, what a sight—and my body—my sweet, mistreated, misunderstood, and marvelous body—knows exactly what to do.
I shift forward until my sex hovers just above his, and then I latch eyes with Beau. I can’t explain to him what’s happening to me, how this unspoken love changes everything. But when our eyes lock, I think I see what I’m feeling in the depth of his.
We touch. His heat to mine, and his eyes blaze, never leaving me. But when we thrust together, the pleasure is shattering. I throw my head back, a cry on my lips, my hands braced on his biceps.
“Iris.” My name sounds precious. Irreplaceable.
I tip forward, meeting his gaze again as Beau bucks beneath me, the force of his thrusts hitting me deep. Touching the place that knows the truth about love: that it can only be met with eyes wide open.
His fingers find me again, and I move, learning my body, his body, our rhythm. It doesn’t take long. In fact, it’s a lesson I master in record time. Because when I see Beau watching me, his jaw clenched tight, the tendons in his neck straining to hold back his climax, it’s like a self-fulfilling prophecy. The thought of him coming—of him finding his pleasure, his release in me—
“Beau—” I cry his name as wave after wave of bliss pound me. He grabs the back of my thighs in a tight hold as he starts to unravel, and my orgasm just telescopes, going on and on.
“God, Iris… God, Iris” he echoes. And I’m not kidding. Lightning crashes. Thunder rolls. And I come like I’ve never come before.
Collapsed on Beau’s chest moments later, eyes closed, I catch my breath, feeling Beau’s chest heave beneath mine. His arms close around me. Blindly, I reach one hand up and stroke his bearded jaw. And for a moment, we just breathe, touching each other with a tender claiming.
