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“No?” I asked.
“I want to see you with no barriers. No water and no bubbles.” He yanked at his belt buckle. “Touch yourself.”
“I’d rather you touch me.”
“I will. I’m trying to calm myself first.”
“I think touching myself will just get you crazier, which is exactly how I want you. Wild. Crazy. No restraint. I want all of you. Okay?”
“Do you want the cordial answer or the truth?”
“The truth. Always.”
“I’m going to make you forget every guy who came after and before me. You may temporarily forget your name, but you’ll never forget mine because you’ll be screaming it.” He ripped his belt free of the loops and let it fall to the floor.
His words were an erotic caress, reaching out and touching my most intimate parts. The anticipation of his actual touch grew until I couldn’t see straight. Everything I needed was across the room.
I should be self-conscious, wondering if I looked as good as he remembered, but I didn’t need to ask. I could see it in the way he watched me with that steady, intense gaze.
“I’m waiting,” he rasped, his voice a thick gravel.
The longer I waited, the longer the torture of him being out of reach would continue. I couldn’t wait that long. My hand skated across my torso, circling my navel before continuing low, low, and lower. Laurent’s eyes darkened as they followed my path.
I didn’t give him exactly what he wanted. Where would be the fun in that? So I purposely deviated to the left, skidding my finger along my inner thigh. A spark of giddiness ran through me at his disapproving growl.
“Phoebe,” he grumbled.
“Did you ever hear that saying?” I asked as my finger slid ever closer to my wet heat. “If you want something done right, do it yourself?” My teeth slid off my lip as I met his dark gaze straight on. “So if you refuse to do it, then don’t complain about how it’s being done.” His jaw tightened, and I slipped into my slick center. A burst of pleasure shot through my core, exploding into a million sparks of desperation.
I cried out, riding the wave, searching for a release, and taking my own advice. If Laurent wouldn’t touch me then—
And then he was on me, mouth crashing into mine, tongue thrusting past my lips, gliding possessively against my own. I went to pull my hand away so I could grab him and hold on, but he pressed his hand into mine, keeping my finger inside me before slipping his own digit beside mine.
Our tongues and fingers moved in sync. My chest, slick with water, slipped against his, creating the perfect friction on my erect nipples.
A million tiny sparks erupted along my skin, setting my body ablaze. “Laurent.” His name was a plea on my lips, muffled by his mouth. I didn’t want him to stop, but I wanted more of him. My fingers traced the taut skin of his abdomen, running over the hard ridges and settling on his hips. I tugged him down, needing to feel his hard length pressed against me.
He drew back slowly, a devilish grin curving at the edge of his mouth. His dark hair fell across his forehead, and I swiped it aside. “I told you that you’d be screaming my name.” Then his head dipped, and he took my nipple in his mouth. I cried out again. His name was a loud crescendo of noise as his tongue swirled around the tight bud.
He moved to the other before dragging his mouth up the curve of my neck. Our fingers continued, bringing me to the precipice of my release when he withdrew. A ragged breath escaped me, and my gaze locked on his.
His blue eyes bore into mine—the same eyes that stole my heart all those years ago, the same eyes that terrified me at the depth of his love. That love was still there, brighter and stronger than ever. I could see a future in those eyes just as I could then. A tiny niggle of fear rose, but I squashed it. I wasn’t a twenty-one-year-old kid anymore. I was a forty-year-old woman who knew what she wanted, and that was Laurent. It always had been, and now I was sure it always would be. It had always been him.
I wrapped my hand around his length, and he sucked a wisp of air through his teeth. I arched into him, dragging the engorged head along my slick folds.
He closed his eyes, his hands brushing my hair off my face. “I don’t want to stop, but I have to get a condom.”
I cupped his cheek, running my thumb across the dark stubble that had already filled in along his jaw. He looked down, and I shook my head. “I’m on the pill.” It was to regulate my period, but he didn’t need to know any of that information. All he needed to know was he wasn’t leaving me, not even for a second.
“Oh, thank Christ.” He split my folds and surged into me with one powerful thrust. I cried out, my nails scoring his back, my body arcing toward him, taking as much of him as I could. He slowed for a moment, hands balling into fists beside my head. Tight lines highlighted the edges of his eyes.
“Laurent?”
“I need a minute. You feel so fucking good.”
I lifted, capturing his lips with mine. This kiss wasn’t frantic or desperate. It was sweet and sensual. It conveyed exactly how I felt, or at least I hoped it did. This man had always been the solid rock that held me up, protected me, and made me feel loved. Weathered with time and circumstances, even in the years we were apart, that love had been so strong it carried with me.
He started to move, his hips rocking, creating delicious waves of ecstasy that poured through my body and soul. I clung to him, trusting him as I always had and holding on to the hard muscles of his shoulders.
