"So are you."
She reached for the buttons of her flannel shirt and undid them one by one. He watched, his mouth going dry, as she shrugged it off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Underneath, she wore a simple white tank top, and he could see the outline of her bra through the thin fabric.
"Your turn."
He pulled his Henley over his head in one motion. She inhaled audibly, her gaze traveling over his chest, his stomach, the trail of hair that disappeared below his waistband. He'd never been self-conscious about his body, but under her eyes he felt laid bare in a way that had nothing to do with skin.
She reached out and traced the edge of his hip with her fingertips. Light. Exploratory. He shuddered.
"Come here," she said.
He knelt on the bed, one knee on either side of her hips, bracketing her body with his. She lay back, pulling him with her, and he braced himself on his forearms so he wouldn't crush her with his weight.
"Hi," she whispered.
"Hi."
He kissed her again, deeper this time. Her hands ran down his back, nails dragging lightly along his spine, and he groaned into her mouth. She arched up against him, and he could feel the soft press of her breasts through the thin cotton of her tank top, the heat of her body seeping into his.
He wanted to take his time. Wanted to learn every inch of her. But she was pulling at his belt, her fingers clumsy with urgency, and he understood. Sometimes you didn't need slow. Sometimes you needed to feel alive.
He helped her with the belt, then with the button and zipper of his jeans. She pushed them down over his hips, and he kicked them off the rest of the way, leaving him in just his boxer briefs. Her tank top came next, pulled over her head, and tossed somewhere behind them. Then her bra, a simple nude thing that he unclasped with fingers that weren't quite steady.
For a long moment, he just looked at her. The soft curve of her breasts, the way her chest rose and fell with each quick breath, the flush spreading down from her cheeks to her neck to her collarbone.
"You're beautiful," he said. The words felt inadequate, but they were true.
"So are you." She reached up and touched his face. "I never told you that. That first day, when you came out of the bathroom in that towel. I couldn't think straight."
He laughed, low and rough. "Neither could I. You were standing in my hallway with that suitcase, looking at me like I was a problem you needed to solve, and all I could think was that you were the most beautiful problem I'd ever seen."
"Brian."
"Tessa."
She pulled him down and kissed him, hard and hungry, and he stopped thinking about words altogether.
He worked her jeans down her legs, taking her underwear with them. She lifted her hips to help, and then she was bare beneath him, all smooth skin and soft curves. He pressed his mouth to her shoulder, her collarbone, the hollow of her throat. She smelled like that lavender body wash she used, and underneath it, something that was just her.
His hand slid down her body, over the flat of her stomach, lower. She gasped when he touched her, her hips jerking up off the mattress.
"God." Her voice was breathless. "Brian."
He watched her face as he stroked her, learning what made her breath catch, what made her fingers tighten in the sheets. She was wet and warm, and the sounds she made, small, helpless sounds that she seemed to be trying to hold back, were driving him out of his mind.
"Don't hold back," he said against her ear. "I want to hear you."
She let out a shaky exhale and stopped trying to be quiet. Her moans were low and throaty, and each one sent a jolt of heat straight through him. He added a second finger, curling them just so, and she cried out, her back arching off the bed.
"That's it," he murmured. "Just let go."
He could feel her getting close, the way her inner muscles clenched around his fingers, the way her breath came faster and faster. He pressed his thumb against her clit in small, tight circles, and she shattered, her whole body going taut and then trembling, his name on her lips.
He worked her through it, gentling his touch as the aftershocks rippled through her. When she finally opened her eyes, they were glazed and dark, and she was smiling.
"Your turn," she said.
She pushed at his shoulder, and he rolled onto his back. She straddled him, her thighs warm against his hips, and leaned down to kiss him. Her hair fell around them like a curtain, closing out the rest of the world.
