I swallow. “Stop,” I say. “We just met.”
“You've already told me I'm your type.”
I balk. His words seem too good to be true. Everything about this feeling is too unreal, too impossible.
“I don't want to go home and see how I'm feeling tomorrow. I know who I am, Anchor.”
“That's what I love about you,” he says.
“Love about me?” I shake my head. Suddenly, I'm feeling like I'm ready to retreat because this is getting way too real way too fast. I was looking for a solo vacation at the lake house—not preparing myself to fall for this man. This was supposed to be a fling, for fun.
“Tell me what you're thinking right now. Because something just happened.”
“I was thinking that…” I exhale. “I was thinking that I was coming here to have a little me time. To read a few books and drink some wine. To relax. I wasn't thinking in the first hour of this vacation I’d meet a man like you. A man who made everything feel topsy turvy within a few minutes. I didn't think I believed in this sort of thing. At least not for me.
“And what is this sort of thing?” he asks.
“Whatever's happening here,” I say, flinging my arms between us, blurting the words out. “I'm not calling it love. That's ridiculous, but whatever this is, at first sight, making love, loving things about me—all of that. You just met me. You don't even know me. I could be a crazy narcissist who's a hyperactive clean freak.”
“You could be,” he says, “but you're way too messy when you eat and you didn't put your wine glass away at your house before you left, and you didn't even lock your house before you came to dinner. You're not intense about the things that would drive me crazy. You're chill in the ways I am. You’re lovely, Lemon.”
“Stop it,” I say. “The things you're saying seem too nice. Too sincere. And you pay attention to me in a way no one else ever has.”
“I don't believe that,” he tells me. “Sounds like you have a family who loves you deeply. Who is overprotective of you because they're terrified of anything happening to their Lemon.”
“Maybe that's true,” I say. “That their intentions are good. But when you talk to me and look at me and touch me and kiss me, I feel like I'm seen in a different way.” I exhale, looking at him, my emotions on my sleeve, my heart in my hands. “How did it feel when I was touching you? Or kissing you? Or talking to you?” I ask him, feeling vulnerable and real and transparent in a way that is freeing.
Anchor’s eyes are filled with sincerity. “I felt like I was alive. Like I wasn't scared. Like whatever happened next was going to be okay because I had you in my arms.” Anchor shakes his head. “You should be a stranger but you aren’t, because you feel like mine.”
The words hang in the air for just a moment before we move together like we were meant to be.
There haven't been any promises made and none have been broken.
And no more words need to be said because now we know where we stand.
In this moment, at least, we lie together as one. We move together as one.
And god, I feel so good.
To be kissed and touched and caressed like this—by him. This man who is so much better than the fictional versions I've read about all my life.
He moves against me, his body muscular and real. Manly in a way that turns me on and makes me wet and makes me come alive.
I open up for him and he does the same for me, and he rolls on top of me, cradling me in his arms, and I feel safe and protected in a way I didn't even know I needed.
He kisses me deeply. Fiercely.
I gasp and I pant and I let out a moan that is so visceral, so loud, I'm stunned. My eyes are wide and his are too but I'm not embarrassed. I’m his.
And when he begins to touch me, fingering me deeply with one finger and then another and then a third, I let my head roll back. I let my knees fall open. And I know I'm doing more than getting off. I'm coming undone.
He growls, kissing my inner thighs, licking up my juicy release. I'm squirting and I'm messy and he doesn't care, and I know he loves it. I can feel it because his cock is thick and hard. And when he moves closer to me, I beg him to come inside me. Now.
“Please,” I say, “don't make me wait any more. Come inside of me.”
He moves against me, and I wrap my arms around his neck as I draw my legs around his body.