“Too bad,” I mumbled into his chest. “I was kind of hoping for an A for effort. Maybe some extra credit points.”
His fingers found my chin, urging my head up. He smiled, a full, slow curve that weakened my knees. “You’re here. That’s enough for me.”
I made a disbelieving noise. How could I be “enough”? Too much, yes, but never “enough.”
He studied my face and then pushed my hair over my shoulder, out of the way. Kissed under my ear, making my breath catch. I exhaled shakily as he reached for the hem of my T-shirt. I helped, tugging it off over my head, standing before him in my full skirt and cotton bralette, my nipples clearly underlined by the thin fabric. My heart battered my chest.
He gazed solemnly down at my body and then up into my eyes. “Beautiful.”
I shivered a little with nerves and desire.
“Cold?” he murmured.
I felt his voice in the pit of my stomach. I shook my head, not trusting speech, feeling his eyes on me, seeing me, liking what he saw. His hands glided, rough fingertips trailing up my arms to cup my shoulders. He kissed me again, slow and unhurried, the scruff of his beard and the silk of his lips and his satin tongue stroking and persuasive, stirring up feeling, stilling the noise in my brain. I wrapped my arms around him, reaching greedily under his shirt as he backed me to the bed, pushing me onto the mattress, his hot, hungry mouth sliding, feasting. I fell back, my skirt yanked up to my waist, my thighs pushed apart.
You deserve to be appreciated, said a voice in my head. It sounded like Beverly Powell.
I stuffed my fist in my mouth, choking on a laugh.
Joe raised his head, a glint in his eyes. “Having a good time?” he asked politely.
I grinned. “The best.”
And after that I couldn’t think, I could only feel, being in the moment, this moment, letting his hands and his mouth take me where he wanted me to go.
—
I lay lax,soft, sated, content, steeped in the smells of sex and honeysuckle. Joe’s arm was heavy across my chest, tucking me into his side. My brain was wiped clean. My skin was damp and tender, my thighs slick, my skirt crumpled around my waist. I felt scoured. Renewed. Like the beach after a storm, sensation leaching away as the waves receded, leaving lovely little treasures in their wake.
The late-afternoon sun slanted under the blind. There had been one moment, as he surged over me, when my head almost surfaced and I’d thought,Condom. But before I could form the word, he’d taken care of it, and then he was there, inside me, solid and smooth and hard inside me, and there was nowhere for me to go, nothing to do but be with him, fully in my body. Not worrying about repeating my mistakes, not wondering where I would be a month from now, not thinking about what I was doing or not doing with the rest of my life.
I didn’t want to move. Possibly ever. Like any change in position would jar my mind back to life.
Joe rolled away, levering himself off the mattress. I turned my head lazily, admiring the hard, pale curve of his butt as he disposed of the condom.
The open box was on the nightstand. My brain twitched. “How long have you had those?”
Please don’t say two years.Should I check the box for anexpiration date? Search online? What if I got pregnant? What if…
“I bought them in Chicago,” Joe said.
Not expired, then. I breathed in relief.
Our eyes met. Held. But did that mean…Had he bought them for me? Had he planned this? Or simply shopped off island to avoid the gossip at Doud’s?
I shooed the thoughts away. I was trying to be in the moment, not prolong it or repeat it or post it as a status update on social media.
“Twenty-four,” I said before I could stop myself.
He gave me a quizzical look.
I gestured toward the box. “You bought the value pack.”
“No, yeah. Guess I was feeling…”
“Cheap?”
His lips twitched. “Hopeful.”
