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Then he gripped her shoulders and turned her to face him, kissing her lips. “Can’t wait,” he said, tugging at her dress until he slipped it from her body, then pulling her panties down her legs, while she worked on the closure to his jeans. He stripped them off, along with his underwear, leaving him blessedly naked.
He gripped her thighs and tugged her up so that her legs were wrapped around his waist before lowering them both to the carpet. The door was still open, the traffic noise and ocean breeze coming into the suite, but she didn’t care.
There was nothing but this. Nothing but Alex.
“Please, Alex,” she said. “I need you.”
He positioned himself and slid inside of her, filling her, stretching her. She felt right for the first time in weeks. Or maybe more truthfully, she felt right for the first time in eleven years. More herself.
And then it was all wiped away as she gave up emotion for pleasure. There was nothing but their fractured breathing, Alex saying rough, coarse things in her ear. In English, in Greek. Words she’d never heard before. Words that sent a shiver of illicit longing through her, that heightened her desire, amped up her arousal.
After the orgasm he gave her outside, she was shocked that she had another one building already. But with each stroke, each rough, whispered word, he pushed her higher, faster.
He put his hand beneath her lower back, lifted her hips off of the ground and thrust harder into her, the sound of skin on skin overtaking the traffic noise from the street below.
He thrust into her one last time, a hoarse sound rising in his throat as he came. The sound, his loss of control, the look of tortured pleasure on his face, was so intense that she felt it as it echoed through her, grabbed hold of her own pleasure and expanded it, pushed her over the edge, their orgasms blending into one until she couldn’t tell where hers began and ended, until she felt like they’d genuinely become one.
When it was over, the traffic noise came back into her consciousness. He rolled away from her, lying on his back on the carpet. A breeze blew through the door, chilling her bare, sweat-slicked skin.
“Well,” she said.
“Yes.” She looked over at him. He was on his back, his arms up, hands beneath his head.
“I suppose that was inevitable,” she said, sitting up, drawing her knees to her chest.
“Clearly it was,” he said.
“Obviously. Because it happened.”
He turned and rose up, cupping her cheek. “Yes, it did.”
“It didn’t fix anything,” she said, a cold feeling stealing into her chest.
“No, but I don’t suppose sex ever stood a chance of fixing anything.”
“I thought we might...” She stopped talking, because she didn’t know what she’d thought. That it would steal the mystery? Break the bond? That it would bond them? Answer the questions and reservations she’d had?
No, she hadn’t thought any of that. She’d thought of nothing but need. Her need to have him, the way he’d looked at her. The way he’d wanted her.
Not the façade, but her.
But now, with the haze of orgasm fading slowly into the background, she was acutely aware of the fact that she was, yet again, naked with a man she didn’t know. Yet again, she was exposed with him.
