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He loved that sharp-witted tongue. “So damned sassy.” He gazed into her eyes. The clouds had rolled in, and it was too dark to admire the hazel ocean of browns, blues, grays, greens, and flecks of gold, but he didn’t need light to know what was right in front of him.
Harper was the best thing that had ever happened to him.
She made him believe in love and led him back to music.
She was the catalyst.
He framed her face with his hands and pressed the tip of his cock against her entrance as he etched this moment in his mind. A tremor ran through his body, goading him to thrust his hips and fill her to the hilt. He couldn’t deny that he craved the snug caress of her sweet center, but this wasn’t the time for a hard and fast screw.
“Did you mean what you said?” she asked, running her hands down his back.
“Every word. I love you. I don’t want to be without you.”
He stroked her cheek, then captured her mouth, tasting her sunshine and reveling in her spice. His abdominal muscles tightened, working overtime to employ self-control, only to heighten his yearning. He inhaled a sharp breath and forced himself to move slowly, deliberately, and mindfully. Their bodies came together like an intricately crafted ballad. Every punctuated thrust led to the next, like the notes in a song. The rhythm of their lovemaking took over. They became one instrument, one creative force composing a sensual sound. Their heated breaths, ravenous kisses, and proclamations of love formed an invisible thread that bound them to this time, this place, and to each other.
“Believe in me,” he whispered against her lips like a plea or a prayer—he wasn’t sure which.
They moved like a rolling arpeggio scale, building up and coming down only to start again. With each wave of passion, the tempo dialed up. He could hear the music—the hypnotic song of their bodies. The rhythm flowed through him. Pumping his cock, he lost himself in the poetry of their gasps and cries. Measure by measure, they grew closer to the finale—to that final note capable of driving them into a sea of ecstasy. She tightened around him and gripped his shoulders, flying over the cliff. He wanted to hold back. He longed to gather these precious seconds. He yearned to collect them like treasured mementos. But he was powerless against her breathy cries and sensual moans. The symphony of sounds carried him over the edge. He disappeared into the throes of passion and crashed head-on into his release. As he pistoned his hips and pumped his cock, a lightness took over as the fears that plagued him disintegrated with each erotic slap of skin on skin.
Harper was his safe harbor, his glorious reprieve.
Nothing could touch him when she was by his side.
Nothing could hold him back.
The dizzying spiral of carnal release slowed, and he returned to his body. His arms trembled from the exertion, and he rested his forehead against hers. He cherished these precious seconds where they hovered in a sacred in-between space. He concentrated on the sound of her breathing as a cool pitter-patter peppered the air. He was ready to roll onto his side, sink into the pillows, and gather Harper into his arms when she tensed.
“What is it?” he asked through a kiss.
“Rain.”
“Rain?” he repeated, confusion laced into the word. His foggy, sex-fueled mind still wasn’t firing on all cylinders.
“It started raining.” She giggled. “You didn’t notice?”
And then his brain kicked in. “That’s great!”
“It’s wet, and it’s chilly,” she countered. “I don’t know if that counts as great.”
“Kisses in the rain,” he exclaimed.
She held his face in her hands. “Are you okay, heartthrob?”
“This is on the scale. You said kisses in the rain were part of the romance scale of devotion.”
It had to be another sign.
He leaned in, and adhering to the romance scale of devotion, he kissed her in the rain as the rhythmic smattering of droplets sprinkled to the ground.
“You’ve got some memory, heartthrob,” she teased as the sky opened and the gentle tap amplified into a pounding wall of sound. “Oh no!” she cried through a bout of laughter.
He pulled out and maneuvered to his knees. Wobbling and damn near crashing on top of his wife, he fastened his pants as Harper’s uncontrollable giggles became contagious.
“Gentle rain works great for romance,” he laughed. “A torrential downpour—”
“Not so much,” she finished.
He scrambled to his feet and helped Harper from the bed of pillows. He held his sports coat over their heads. She wrapped her arms around his waist, and they were off. But there was nothing romantic about their trek to the villa. They moved like the spastic contestants in a three-legged race, laughing and shrieking thanks to the slippery stone pavers.
