I don’t know when I first register the chilly wind on my lower back, or when the cold water on my thighs is replaced by night air. I only know that when he raises his head from mine we’re no longer in the water.
He’s carried me onto the shore.
“Let’s go inside,” Anthony murmurs.
I slide down his body and find my footing on the sand. He groans at the friction, his hardness clear to my night-adjusted eyes. My mouth feels dry and my heart full.
“Yes,” I whisper. “Please.”
I bend to scoop up our clothing and walk toward the house. I’m halfway up the steps before I turn and see him, standing by the base of the stairs. Turned too much to the left.
My own idiocy leaves me shamed. In the darkness, he can’t make out the first step.
“Here,” I murmur and take his hand.
His jaw works but he says nothing, finding his footing. Letting me draw him toward the patio doors and the living room. My heart aches, then, with want and tenderness for him. I reach for the living room lights and turn them on.
Anthony shuts the patio door behind us and turns to look at me.
I feel electrified beneath his burning gaze, taking all of me in. He looks like an ancient general, a conquering hero returned from sea, a man who needs with every breath he takes. His body is the tall, strong form of a man who uses it for work. Chest hair. Strong thighs. Rugged features that I’d once considered plain.
How had I been so blind?
“You still want me,” he says. It’s a statement and a question, evident in the lines of his body and the way he’s holding himself back.
Had he thought I wouldn’t, after he’d told me about his vision? Had he thought I would turn him away?
“Yes. So much.”
He reaches out and takes a strand of my wet hair between his fingers. “You’ll catch a cold.”
“No, I won’t,” I whisper. “I go to bed with wet hair all the time.”
Anthony’s lips curve. “In that case…”
My gasp of surprise turns into a breathless laugh as he lifts me up. Carries me through the living room and into his bedroom, shutting the door in the face of an all-too-curious golden retriever.
I slide down his body, feet touching the floor, but I keep my arms around his neck. His hands are reverent and soft over my naked skin. They sweep in arcs over my bare back and down my hips, like he’s mapping my body.
I touch him the same way. Trace the strong, wide curve of his shoulders and the groove down his stomach. Grasp the hard length of him in my hand.
He groans against my lips, breath quickening when I start to stroke. “So it wasn’t thatcold in the water,” I tease.
His answering chuckle is hoarse. He rests his forehead against mine, chest rising and falling with the force of his breathing.
I smooth my thumb over the blunt head and he groans. It’s been a long time since I’ve touched a man like this, and he’s deliciously soft and hard and silky at the same time.
He tips my head back and kisses me, tongue slipping between my lips, mimicking the movement of his hips against my hand. I’m so full of him my head is swimming and he’s not even inside of me yet.
Anthony walks me back to his bed and lifts me again. Effortless for him, it seems.
He lays me down on the soft linen. I cradle him between my legs as he moves down my body, mouth tracing collarbones, across my breasts, finding the hard peak of a nipple.
He bites down.
I gasp, legs widening in a plea.
Anthony hears it. His hand slides up my inner thigh, closer, and closer still, until his fingers finally brush over my most sensitive skin.