Before I left, I asked the house staff to set a romantic ambiance. The sheer white curtains around the four-poster bed are no longer tied and flow freely around the bed. The room is only lit by candlelight. They went so far as to scatter flower petals leading to the bed. The French doors open to the private beach, the ocean breeze and sounds reaching the room.
Under candlelight, Lola’s skin glows golden from the tan she’s gained the last several months in this coastal town. With her shorter darker hair, her features seem less soft and more angular. She carries herself more confidently too, even though it’s only been a few months.
She’s different . . . in so many ways.
She goes over to the window to take in the view, and I come up behind her. “You’re different.” I whisper my thoughts as I wrap my arms around her waist.
She nods. “I’m . . . better,” she says. “I’ve let go of a lot, and I think that’s opened up a lot of room in my heart.”
“Room to love me,” I say, and it’s not a question.
“I’ve always loved you. I just . . . wasn’t ready for that kind of intensity.”
“It wasn’t that long ago.” I turn her around to kiss the corner of her mouth. “Are you sure you’re ready for it now?”
My mouth trails down her jaw and her neck, pulling a soft whimper out of her. “I’m sure I’m in love with you, ready or not,” she says, and I bite her neck in appreciation of her words that, though playful, are full of meaning.
“It doesn’t have to be tonight if you’re not ready, doll. When I finally make love to you, I want you to be ready—”
“I’ve been ready. For you. Please don’t make me wait anymore.”
“Fuck, doll,” I breathe out. “Do you know how hot those words are?”
“Please, Karl. I need you. I need to feel you inside me, more than anything. I’ve needed you for so long. I’m aching for you, baby.”
I peel off her black tank top, revealing a black bra. After pushing her hair over to one side, I lick the length of her neck. “You taste just how I remember,” I whisper in her ear.
I unclasp her bra and bring her tighter to my chest, sneaking a hand to pinch a nipple, and feel her suck in a breath.
She hurries to help me out of my shirt, and her eyes widen when she glimpses my left inner bicep.
“Karl,” she gasps, holding my arm out. “You didn’t!”
I kiss her with open lips and taste her sweet tongue. Watermelon bubblegum—just how I remember her tasting. The flavor is familiar yet somehow exciting and oh so erotic.
Her fingers trace the new tattoo on my arm, her face inches from it now as she studies the shape of the green peanut butter jar with the letter ‘I’ on it. A perfect replica of her Christmas gift to me.
When she frees her grip on my arm and lets me rest it, her eyes are glassy. “When?” she asks.
“The day after you left.”
“You said you were saving that for someone special.”
“For you, doll. I was saving it for the woman I’d fall in love with one day. And I’d fallen in love with you.”
“Even after I left you?”
“Even then.”
“Take my pants off,” she says, and I chuckle. “Just do it,” she says again.
I kneel before her, trailing kisses from her belly button down to the waistband of her jeans. I undo her zipper, and when I yank the denim fabric down, my eyes turn glassy to match hers.
“Lola,” I breathe out with so much emotion, I almost choke on her name.
I tug her pants all the way down to her ankles to fully reveal the long tattoo that spans from the side of her waist, down her right hip, and nearly to her knee.
the intricate blue dragon wraps around her thigh in the curl of its tail. Its eyes are a blue uncannily close to my eye color. “When?” I ask her the same question.