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I catch sight of myself in the mirror as I open the drawer. It’s the same me, just like before the wedding.
But I’m not the same. Not by a long shot. I have a woman here. And not just in my home. My clinic, too. She’s everywhere. I can’t set her aside. I won’t.
I take the entire box and bring it to the bedroom. Ensley lies on her side, head propped on her arm, waiting. She’s like a goddess, radiantskin still lightly tan from whatever she did for the wedding. There isn’t a flaw on her.
“Can I put it on?” She spins around to sit on her knees, her breasts tipped with the light. Blood rushes to my groin, not that there was much left not already there.
I pass her the box.
She opens it with delicate fingers and rips the top off one package. Then her hands are on me, molding the latex to my skin, forcing me to hang on to my control.
Her eyes meet mine, and I lean over her, pushing her back on the bed. “I’m going to take my time with you,” I tell her, and her breath catches.
I love how she responds to me, how her body blossoms pink where I touch her. I reacquaint myself with each part of her until she’s writhing beneath me. “Drew.” Her breath is ragged. “Please.”
I slide into her gently, watching her face.
Her hands clutch at my waist, fingernails digging into my skin. I take it easy, seeing how she reacts, making sure there is no discomfort.
Her hips rise to meet me, and her body lets out a small shudder.
I plan to keep it light all the way through, but the way she sighs, matching my movements with her own, makes my blood rush. I increase my speed, braced on my arms over her.
She wraps her legs around me, and I’m no longer in control. I pound into her, reveling in each gasp and moan. She says my name over and over again, each sound of her orgasm another tightening of the connection that binds us.
Her muscles contract around me, her cries rising again. And that’s it, too far. I unleash in her, every wild sensation converging where we join. For a moment, I’m lightheaded, like I passed through some other atmosphere.
Then she pulls me down on her to rest against her body. She clasps my head against her cheek. “Drew,” she says, but whatever else shemight have spoken is lost in the long rush of her breath. She settles for another simple, “Drew.”
“Ensley.” Our names are like revelations, like admissions. Like confessions. Something’s happened here. Unexpected. Glorious.
I want it again. I don’t want to ever go without it.
“Stay with me tonight,” I whisper into her ear.
“But it’s date three,” she says.
“Then let date three never end.”
She presses her hands against my cheeks. “May it never end.”
Chapter 31
ENSLEY
I stay with Drew Saturday night and all day Sunday. We never properly get dressed again. I wear one of his big sweatshirts that reaches my knees. Panties aren’t allowed. Or needed.
It’s a lot. A lot, a lot, a lot.
But I have to go back to Lila’s. I need clean clothes. And a breather.
Drew Daniels can be intense.
On Monday morning, I brew a breakfast roast in Lila’s ancient Mr.Coffee and stare out the window at the overgrown backyard. The weekend feels like a dream. Images flash through my memory. His bed. His shower. His sofa. Drew. Drew. Drew.
The only thing that bugs me, just a little bit, is something Drew said when I left. “Date three was epic.”
It’s almost as if we were still on the three-date plan.
