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“Oh … yes,” I said when he hit my G-spot, my palms skidding across the tiles. “Don’t stop.Don’t stop.”
His smacks became pounds, and he palmed my ass, squeezed, before yelling out and thrusting as deep as he’d ever gone.
Both of us, in tandem, yelled out our orgasms, muscles in my thighs twanging and releasing, a flow of pleasure I hadn’t felt in years, sincehim, replenishing my bloodstream, awakening the woman lying dormant inside, her sexual prowess released with a wave of true, ultimate pleasure.
Theo’s hands cupped my waist, the water doing nothing to prevent the bruising that would surely show the imprints of his fingers. Theo’s marks of passion on me, indicating the ecstasy both of us received, was not something I remembered missing until the instant his grip released.
In pure cliché, my legs turned to jello without his steadying hands. I straightened, but shoulder-bumped into the wall, breathing heavy, lids so low Theo’s movements were mere flickering shadows in my vision.
He rubbed a hand across his jaw. “That was…”
Amazing.
But I said nothing, catching my breath and my balance in the moments it was taking him to come back to reality.
His chest rose and fell, Theo’s body receiving all of the spray, a sparkling dew outlining every border and crevice on his delicious form. “Do you need time to finish getting ready?” he asked through his hard exhales.
I couldn’t help but crack a smile. Movies never panned to this part, where literally, right after the sexual crescendo, people had to finish making plans while naked and recovering in a place that didn’t contain a bed.
He remained exposed to me, and I to him.
“Yeah,” I said, pushing off the tile. “Sure.”
Theo nodded, scratched at his jaw again, and stepped out, giving me a perfect view of his taut, round melon of an ass, golden just like the rest of him.
Orgasm abated, I re-entered the spray, tilting my face up and letting the hot water coat my breasts, run down my stomach, collect near my thighs.
It wasn’t nearly as hot as Theo.
Sighing, I turned off the stream. When I exited, I was one towel down and Theo was nowhere in the vast expanse of this bathroom. Probably for the best.
I toweled off and helped myself to the various lotions and potions on the vanity. Once thoroughly scented and moisturized, I turned on the hair dryer, allowing the dry heat to evaporate any remaining water from my hair as well as my eyes.
I did it all without looking in the mirror.
God, I was afraid.
Cassie hadn’t been in my life for almost a decade—that newt-finger of a blogger had been correct in his article—yet, it would always feel like I’d lost her this morning.
Time was meant to be the ultimate Band-Aid, a healer of all woes, the giver of strength. But it seemed to have skipped me, because thousands of days later, my heart couldn’t stand to be a twinless twin.
Save for surgical modification, I’d done everything possible to stop looking like her, and I’d managed it for a record eight years. Hell, I’d become a different person on the insideandout, Cassie properly buried both in a cemetery and at the bottom of my soul.
Now, for reasons unknown, she was asking to reappear, and I wasn’t sure I could handle it.
After blow-drying for twenty minutes, my hair was so dry as to resemble burned tumbleweed, and I couldn’t find any more excuses.
“You’ve become a strong-ass bitch in the poker underworld,” I reassured myself. “You can handle a little self-reflection time.”
Okay. One, two…
Closing my eyes, hands to my stomach, I turned to the mirror, and ever the strategist, even to myself, I opened my eyes before three.
“Cassie,” I wrenched out. Hands bracing the countertop, I leaned forward, her smoke-filled blue eyes stared back, her straight, Roman nose, the high cheekbones, the slightly-pointed chin.
The dimple, although it didn’t appear in her smile this time. It showed with a trembling frown.
“I can’t do this,” I said to her, legs beginning to shake. “I can’t—”
