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I rock against the glass, against him, as the waves ricochet through me. I cling to the pleasurable heat, wanting to make it last, to feed it, to have it go on for ever, and I stave off reality because I’m content to stay like this always.
‘Cain...’
Another breathy whisper, and slowly he releases me, his mouth trailing kisses from the tip of my pubic bone to my belly button to my clavicle. And then he’s there, face to face, and I’m gazing into those eyes which are so familiar, and yet not, and I want to cry. Both pain and happiness are merging into one.
‘Yes?’
I shake my head. How can I speak when I don’t even know what I’m asking? I don’t know how to make sense of what I feel, how to tell him what I must. What I do know is that I need him. I need him inside me, filling me so completely that it wipes out this age-old pain, even for a short spell.
And maybe that’s all I need to ask of him.
‘Make love to me.’
His smile is slow, seductive, and it triggers another sweep of ecstasy through my overactive body that hasn’t had its fill.
‘Your wish is my command.’
He scoops me up in his arms as if I weigh nothing, and I hear the soft whirr of the glass door sliding open behind us. I have no idea how—a secret panel on the wall? Some psychic connection to its owner?—but I’m impressed... Until I register the cold night air over my bare skin.
‘Don’t worry,’ he says, holding me tighter as I tense. ‘No one can see us here... There’s not even a boat close to shore.’
I look out into the darkness. He’s right. There’s nothing but the sound of the rolling sea, the sight of the waves breaking and the salty sea breeze that rushes over my skin. I curve into his body, seeking his heat, and then I feel steam at my back. Warm, alluring steam. And, just as the door slid open, the cover of the swim spa rolls back.
‘Is there anything this house doesn’t have?’
I laugh as I say it, and look up into his gaze, but my laugh freezes with my breath. The intense sincerity in his face, his eyes, pulls me up short.
‘You, Lexi. It doesn’t have you.’
He didn’t... He can’t... He can’t possibly mean it, but my heart throbs longingly all the same. Do I dare to believe, dare to hope...?
No, you were fool enough to hope once. You can’t do it again—you can’t risk it again. No matter the role you played in his departure. How can you trust him not to run again?
‘Well, I’m here now.’ I make it jovial, as light-hearted as I can.
‘True.’ He grins as he lowers me to my feet. ‘Step in.’
I do as he asks, my hand in his as I feel for the steps with my toes. The heat of the water seeps into my skin, warm, tantalising, soothing my goose-pimpled flesh.
‘I’ll get our drinks.’
He walks away and I tie my hair high on my head before settling back. It’s heavenly, almost other-worldly, being cocooned in this delicious bubbling warmth while looking out on blackness, on the never-ending sea. I can feel my mind threatening to wander into risky territory, into fanciful what-ifs, and I claw it back, focus on the immediate present and indulge in the fantasy for what it is—temporary.
I hear his step behind me and turn my head. It immediately empties. He’s naked, with two glasses of whiskey in his hand. I raise my brow—it’s about the only outward response I can muster, even though my tongue wants to flick out and wet my lips like some sex-starved vixen. Because all I can think about is how I want to devour the thick, hard length of him that’s protruding, proud and unashamed.
I’m like a woman possessed. A woman seeking her younger self and clinging to it desperately. A woman who never went through pain, who has never suffered between then and now.
‘Nice to see you appreciate the finer things in life.’
My eyes snap to his, which are glittering with laughter and a far more carnal, overriding urge.
I almost say, It’s been a while, but it’s too close to the truth—the truth he has yet to learn—so I laugh softly instead.
He slips into the water beside me, his bare leg brushing against mine and setting off a frisson of excitement in its wake. He leans back and passes me one of the glasses, offering up his own in toast.
‘To us.’
My throat tightens. Hope and fear collide.
