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Again, the quiet contemplation. I want to know where her mind has gone, what she saw and did in those parts of the story. “Why did you leave France?”
“Unfinished business.” The way she says it invites no follow-up questions, but she forgets. I’m a detective.
“Is it finished now?”
As I study her face, I see her lips press together. She looks to the side as if she might lie to me. Don’t lie to me, Lara…
Instead, she slips out of the bed. Cold air coats my skin where her body was pressed to mine, and I sit up. She stretches to look out the window, and I place my hands on her bare waist, circling my thumb over her small navel. Her naked body is still the best thing I’ve ever seen.
“The blizzard is swirling out there,” she says wistfully.
“I know how to stay warm.”
Leaning forward, I press a kiss against her hip. She jumps in response, and quickly relaxes as I follow a trail of kisses across her lower pelvis to her landing strip. Her hand fumbles into my hair when I make a slow pass of my tongue over her clit. She moans, and her knees bend.
I kiss her hip and reach up to guide her back to the mattress. Now is the time for making love, slowly and gently. I’ll make her come then I’ll slip inside and make her come again. My cock is already growing longer and thicker just thinking about being lost in her warm depths.
Looking up from where I’m teasing her clit, I watch her back arch, her breath swirl in and shudder out the closer she gets to breaking. I continue lapping and sucking and watching, doing my best to memorize this sight. The most beautiful sight I know.
Reaching up, I cover her small breast with my palm. I squeeze the soft peak and roll her tight nipple in my fingertips. She arches and moans, and my cock responds. Two more licks, two more sucks, and she’s threading her fingers in my hair and gently pulling.
I’m happy to comply with her nonverbal request. Crawling up her body, I kiss her stomach, her navel. I pause at her breast and slide my tongue around that soft nipple. It tightens, and I pull it between my lips.
“Mark,” she gasps, holding my cheeks, and I exhale a groan.
The distance between us completely dissolves. Now she’s here, in the throes of passion, and she says my name. Perfect.
Rising onto my elbows, I brace myself on the mattress above her, smiling as I push her thighs apart with my knee. I’m still smiling when I cover her mouth with mine, kissing her deeply as I fill her with my dick.
Her lips break free. “Oh, Mark,” she says again, and I swear my cock gets harder.
Warmth floods my pelvis, and my hips move faster. Old fantasies of marriage, of her body growing round with my baby, unfurl in my mind. I don’t just want to be her hero. I want everything.
My head lowers to her shoulder, and I press my lips to her skin, covering her neck and shoulders with kisses. She moans and clutches me as my beard reddens her smooth skin. It’s like a fever dream. She’s flush against my chest, I’m pumping deep between her legs, and she’s moaning and rocking her hips up to meet me.
Our bodies move in time like a dance, covered in sweat and lost in each other. I feel her insides shimmer and spasm, and the bloom of orgasm floods my pelvis. Our dance continues. We’re wrapped in each other’s arms as we make our ascent. I’m pulsing, filling her, and I don’t want to let her go. I want to hold her this way forever.
Her arms tighten around me as we still, drifting down as one, clinging to each other. So much is conveyed in that moment.
Turning us to the side, I smooth my thumb over her cheek. Our eyes meet and we smile. I look deep into her eyes and say with confidence, “You’ll always be my girl.”
The sun streams blindingly white through my small window, and the first thing I notice is the train isn’t moving. My room is completely still. Rubbing my eyes, I sit up slowly, and I notice the second thing…
Lara is gone.
Banging starts on my door, and I’m on my feet at once, throwing the blankets aside.
“Mr. Fitzhugh?” I recognize the other porter Jack’s voice calling through the door. “Are you awake, sir?”
“Just a second, Jack,” I call, snatching up the wool slacks from the floor where I left them last night.
Slamming my hand against the wood panels causes them to shudder and open, and I feel the shelves for a sweater. A black wool sweater is over my head as I step into my boots. I grab my brown wool blazer, and I’m out the door in less than two minutes.
Jack waits outside, worry lining his face. “I’m sorry to wake you, sir. Something very bad has happened, I’m afraid.”
Panic seizes my chest. “Where’s Lara?”
“I’m sorry?” Jack steps back, and I turn on my heel, taking off running to the back of the train.
