“I like how you keep trying with your family instead of giving up, and how you did with me, too,” I confess into the softness of his hair.
He tilts my head to one side, his mouth pushing the strap of my camisole away as he tells me, “That was you. I wouldn’t have seen Ben this much if it hadn’t been for you.”
My hands reach for the hem of his shirt then, and once it’s off, he leans into me, warm and solid. Something sparks hard in my chest when our bodies align, separated only by the thin fabric of my top.
“I’m afraid of letting you in and having you take over my life,” I admit in a whisper.
Lewis tilts my chin up so our gazes meet.
“Frances,” he says, wrapping my hair around his hand, “taking over the wheel is the last thing on my mind. When I’m with you, I want you to drive. I want you to show me the sights, to let me in on how you see the world.”
Back in the cabin, I told Lewis I had let Jacob take thedriver’s seat in our relationship and losing myself like that was something I wouldn’t risk again. Now, I brush my knuckles over Lewis’s chest and down his stomach, letting his careful and considerate words warm me up.
He helps me out of my top, then kisses my collarbone. “And when you get tired or exhausted, even then I don’t want to take over. We’ll just stop and stay for a while, okay?”
My hands find the button of his chinos. “What about you in all of this?” I ask.
“I’m just glad that you see me.”
“I do,” I agree, “and I don’t want to change a thing about you. You inspire me.”
“I think we could be something great,” he murmurs, and I feel him smile against my throat.
It’s different as we undress each other this time, like those whispered words against skin amplify the weight of each touch. Over the past days we’ve ended up tangled up in each other every night, but this feels like it’s about more than two bodies intertwining. It’s about meeting someone and finding an unexpected companion. Someone who grates against your nerves in a way you thought could only set you off in anger but turns out to be the one who makes you feel exhilaratingly alive. This is about seeing the discouraging statistics of long-distance relationships and betting against all of the odds.
“You’re stunning. Up here”—he taps my temple—“and out here,” he says and my skin warms under the perusal of his fingers. Cheeks, collarbone, chest, thighs. When he draws an arm around my back and leans in, I expect him to kiss me in the soft, languid way I learned he likes, but instead, he coaxes my mouth open with his thumb on my chin and licks against my tongue. A jolt zaps down my nerve endings, suddenly and forcefully, like I’ve held my fingers to a live wire.
We chuckle into each other as the frame of my glasses digsinto both our cheeks, and he pulls back to slide them off my nose, turning his face into a blur of gold and caramel, a flash of blue. I’m annihilated by how carefully he folds up my glasses and keeps them out of harm’s way in one hand, braced against the wall behind me.
I pull his head toward mine, until it dips into focus again. I want to taste the swell of his mouth, the dip of his collarbone, but he doesn’t let me have my way for long, burning his lips down my throat and thumbing my nipple until I’m aching for him.
It’s not only every flick of his tongue, bite of his teeth, and stroke of his hands that coils me tighter and tighter, but also the echo of everything he said.
“I need you closer,” I grit out.
He walks me back to the bed, his erection heavy against my abdomen, then turns us so he falls onto the mattress first.
“What are you doing?” I breathe as he hooks his hands under my knees. When he drags me over him, his thigh slides against my core and the pressure rips a moan out of me, but he doesn’t stop there, guiding me up and up until his face is framed by my legs.
“Close enough?” The exhale of his words prickles over me, almost enough to set me off.
“I meant—” My breath hitches as he spreads his hand on my belly, right where I glow most strongly for him.
“I know.” He kisses the inside of my thigh. “But I wouldn’t last long. Let me do this,” he continues, “let me watch you when you come.” My hips jerk at the low rumble of his words, a depraved sound breaking out of my throat when he drags his tongue over my clit.
I claw my fingers into his hair, a mad grasp for something to tether me. “It’s just…” I protest, “I want to get to see you, too.”
The hand that’s been clasped against my calf comes up.“Here.” Lewis sounds out of breath as he slips my glasses into my hand.
“That’s not what I meant,” I gasp, unfolding my glasses on the bridge of my nose and nearly dropping them when he licks me again. His focus as he works his mouth on me is close enough to break me. Lids heavy, pupils inky in the halo of blue. Tension courses low and hot in my body, until my skin vibrates with it, until it curls tightly up my spine. Until he puts his free hand to use and slips one finger between my legs, then two. When he curls them into a hook inside of me, reality melts.
“There is no limit to the ways I want you.” The confession breaks out of me, unbidden.
Lewis curses underneath me. “Look at me,” he says, his words a mere exhale against my clit, the gust of air so sensitizing that the next touch of his tongue shatters me.
“Look at me,” he growls before I finally obey and the orgasm shudders through me, sudden and hard. His eyes darken as I arch into him and breathe out his name.
When I come back to myself, I reach behind me and drift my hand down his stomach to where his fist is closed around himself. As I pry off his taught fingers and stroke him, I watch the heat turn up in his gaze and then, my hand tightens to tip him over, too. It’s my name on his lips, a plea at first, a grunt, and finally a sigh as the orgasm ebbs out of him and his body goes slack.
