His gut unclenched and the bands around his chest finally eased. It felt like they’d been there forever. For the first time in his life the idea of something or someone, that wasn’t his children, becoming the focus in his life was terrifying.
It was also humbling. The relief he sought was in her eyes. It was in her touch and the way she held onto him. She was finally with him in every way.
He could still feel the fear inside of her. The fact that she held it all inside still killed him, but he could understand the pain. It was a sweet pain now. Knowing what it cost her to let him in was worth every bump in the road. Showing her how their imperfections were perfect together was going to be a lifelong project—and he did love a project. Even as she trembled in his arms, he knew it was a step forward.
When her arms locked around his neck, he drew her closer until there was no space between them. The rain and the ocean and the underlying wisp of pears was so very right in that moment.
She slowly lowered herself back on the deck, linking their fingers as she drew him through the sliding door. Without words, they went inside and down the hallway to the huge glass shower of the master bedroom. Distantly, he noticed the space—the vastness and airy blue veined marble of the white walls.
They dropped clothes quietly, neither one of them wanting to break the moment. She turned to the controls of the spa-like shower until water sprayed from nozzles and plates along the walls and above their heads. The line of her back, seemed so fragile in the big space. He was almost afraid to touch her.
The punishing echo of his first night at this house haunted him. There’d been no gentleness that night. He’d taken anything that she offered, but today he wanted only to give. Water flowed from a wide shower head soaking into her hair, sluicing over her impossibly tiny shoulders. He stepped forward, closing the door behind him so that the steam and Tessa was his entire focus.
She reached for him. Her fingers trembled a little, then firmed just before she touched him. Their eyes locked as she smoothed her palm over his chest and up to his shoulders. He pushed back his tangle of wet hair, a groan rumbling in his chest as her soft touch warred with the beating water on his back.
He reached for her shampoo, twisting her around until she faced him, directly under the spray. Pouring a generous amount into his hands, he reached under her hair until it was a mass of bubbles in his hands. She arched into his touch until the elegant line of her neck was too much of a temptation. He sipped from her, his tongue catching the last bit of salt on her neck. Thighs brushed and her nipples burned into his chest, but it was no match for the rapture on her face. He massaged the base of her skull with long, slow strokes. The suds foamed around her shoulders and slipped between them.
The air smelled fresh and clean again. The brine of the ocean drifted away from this place and this time until it was just them. He reached for one of the crazy netted balls that was always in her bathroom, soaking it with her rich green soap. The sharp tang of her scent filled the stall.
Again, the suds multiplied until the little ball landed on tile. Fingers and slick palms replaced the scratchy texture of the netting. From her shoulders to her arms, he followed the gentle slope of her breast, his thumb swiping under the tip again and again until he felt her quake. Her head tipped back again and he wanted to dive into her neck and into the valley between her thighs.
He was hard and aching to belong to her again, but he continued his journey. He wanted to learn her body again. The slim line of her waist showed far too many ribs and he promised himself he’d find lean curves and health there soon. He’d find their happiness again. This was only the start.
Shifting the suds around her hips, he crouched lower. Her fingers immediately twined into his hair as she looked down at him. There was no fear there now, just Tessa and her lovely half smile. He couldn’t help but smile back at her as he leaned in. The tiny little ladybug just below the line of her waist, seemed to rest just beside the angry pink scar. The edges and ends were silvering with time, but the middle was still so raw and real. “Oh baby,” he whispered, his voice cracking.
She lowered herself to her knees before him, her arms around his neck. “It’s okay,” she said in a voice nearly as rough as his.
He caught her close. The scar seemed like it should be huge, not so small and innocuous. The amount of damage that had happened to them both should reflect it—pridefully even. The water rained down on them as they held tight. When they stood, they did it together.
She stepped back, bringing his hand to her belly. The flat, toned lines of her that he knew so well, that might have brought a new life into the world. Would they have been good parents? He blinked against the water showering down on them and the tears that blindsided him. He traced his thumb over the zigzagging line. “Just a little broken, now,” she whispered.
His eyes snapped to hers. She cupped his face, drawing his lips to hers. Tears and water mingled in their kiss. When there was no realization in her eyes, he kissed her harder. On the same wavelength for once, even with months between them, he filed the thought away for later. For when he’d have to leave her again. This time for the mistress that was always waiting in the shadows for him, whether he wanted to go with her or not.
He dropped down into a crouch again, finding the soapy sponge again. He stared up at her as he washed her ankles and tops of her feet. The calves and sensitive back of her knees were next, then her thighs and the heart shaped curve of her ass. And as he hovered there, he pressed a kiss on her scar and the little ladybug he’d missed before he stood once more.
Her eyes were clear, sadness fading as they faced one another. He kissed her again, sweetness burning between them in a smile. Transferring the soapy sponge to his other hand, he found the darker red line of curls at her center. Fingers braced themselves on his chest, the tips of her fingernails slowly bit through the hair and muscle as he gently washed her. The silky blend of suds and her body coming alive for him was reassuring. Probing gently, he groaned when she stole the netted ball.
Her spring green eyes were locked on his as she drew light circles along his back, the heels of her hands digging into muscles still tense with emotion. “It’s okay to touch me,” she said softly. Her own fingers drifting to the curve of his ass, to grip him tightly, to show him that she wanted him.
Part of him wanted to push her against the marble and bury deep, but the other half of him wanted to wait. It was that side of him that allowed him to circle her until the various plates along the wall sprayed down her body.
As the suds washed away, he drew his hands around her waist and cupped each breast, letting the hot points burn the center of his palms. He nosed away her hair until he could sip from her neck.
She backed against him, the soft curve of her ass bumped against his shaft until he was nearly mad with wanting her. The little seat in the shower, just her foot there and he could slip inside of her so very easily. When her hands came around to grip his thighs, her nails teasing up until she could circle him, he swallowed taking a step back.
Tessa twisted in his arms, her thumbs finding his nipples unerringly, teasing the tips. “I want to make you mine again, just like I want to be yours.” Reaching for the soap soaked nylon she walked around him, letting the warm water flow over his front, she knelt behind him. Just as he did, she started with his ankles. Her nails traced the dragon tat of his ankle then drifted up over his calves to his thighs. He stood rock still, his muscles clenching as she gently dragged her nails over first the front of his thighs, then the back. Carefully avoiding a bump of her wrist where he was most vulnerable, she stood behind him.
Her hand snaked forward, around his waist. Swallowing thickly as she lifted him, circling the base of his cock, he hissed when she twisted lightly. She glided her hand over him twice then let it go, until it swayed, pressing tight to his belly. He could feel her breath on his shoulder as she gave his chest and belly the same attention with nails and soap.
He looked over his shoulder at the soft smile on her face. He eased again, letting her take care of him for once. She massaged his scalp, the spicy half of her scent of her drifted out of the shampoo and lingered. Pushing him forward, they both stood in the center of the spray. It came from the sides, from the ceiling, all around them.
They both watched as suds foamed away with gentle touches and the intimacy between them reached an all time high. When they were both squeaky clean, she killed the taps--the silence was jarring after the roaring surf and white noise of the water. Opening the door, the cool air should have calmed him, but it only heightened his oversensitive body.
A fluffy towel was nearly his destruction as she dried each inch of him—some places twice. Letting her run the show, he followed her into the hallway again. A slick tail of red hair dripped between her shoulder blades leaving a cascade of water droplets following the slim line of her spine. He stopped her there, where living room met hallway—where the final grey mist of light broke into sun from the passing storm.
He reached down and caught the drops with his tongue, his hands framing her hips as he tasted her from the base of her spine to the edges of her thick hair that stuck to her shoulders and back. He lifted it and found that spot on the back of her neck that he loved. Felt her groan, before he heard it and sucked there where her scent and her skin was sweetest.
Her fingers gripped his in her hair as he kissed and tasted, as he turned her and their mouths finally met. He followed instinct and swept her up into his arms, not breaking the kiss at all. He angled her into the room where the sun arrowed down onto the bed, naked as they were. Stripped to the mattress, it didn’t even have one of those covers on it.
“Shit.”
Her hand came up to cup his jaw, her smile as wide and bright as the sun that filled the room. She traced the line of his lower lip until he bit the tip. “I don’t care,” he said and moved to the bed.
She laughed, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “Wrath of Mary.”
“Right,” he growled and swung around and out the door again. Christ he was so hard his dick was slapping into his own belly. He wanted her horizontal and to taste her skin again. Down the hall to his room, he walked to the window. His room was dark as a tomb. To sleep that was fine, but now? No—he wanted light. Needed to see her in the light.
“What are you doing?”
He turned her so she could open the shutters. “I want to see you. I need to see you.”
She twisted until he put her down. She stood before him, their chests touching, and their knees bumping when she reached around him to let the sun in.
Walking backwards to the bed, she pulled him along. “I want you to touch me in the sun,” she whispered.
He lifted her, his hand and forearm supporting her back as he knelt into the soft mattress, into the welcoming down coverlet and pillows that littered the bed he’d barely slept in the night before. With shaking fingers he knelt between her thighs, pressing his hands into the mattress at each side of her shoulders, until he hovered over her. She rose up, her mouth hungry for his, the fiery silk of her skin seemed to be everywhere. The kiss was long and slow. He reigned in the need to take and to brand. Managing it solely because he knew it was the gentle that was needed.
The hot and the out of control didn’t have any business there between them right now. He slowly lowered himself against her until she opened for him. Her thighs cupped him, her arms surrounded him, her mouth took his tongue inside. She was silk and warmth, hope and comfort and most of all she was his.
There was no doubt between them.
With each stroke of her hand down his back, each tangle of tongues they blended into one. He didn’t know if it was her heart or his that thundered between them, but he understood it. Importance and excitement tangled into need between them. His mouth moved to her neck, into the softness and spicy tang of her scent. He licked and nipped until she arched beneath him.
His arm slid beneath her, tugging her up until there was no doubt he surrounded her. She clung to him, their eyes locking as she cradled him in her arms and within her thighs.
“I need you closer,” she whispered.
He wasn’t ready for the trip up and over. The storm between them rushed and took over. He wanted it to last. “Not yet, I—“
She looked up at him, shifting herself against him until the very tip of him slid over her hood. She undulated beneath him. “Everything. All of you, now.”
Unable to deny her anything he shifted a hand between them, felt the slick glide of her ready for him and sunk inside. She stretched around him, taking all of him slowly. Her hands moved down to his hips, urging him deeper. Her fingers dug deep into the muscles and then her mouth was on his.
Everywhere—she was everywhere. Soft as the water they’d started in, strong as the woman he’d come to love, aching as the pain that had led them here. She was everything.
Each stroke was elemental in knitting them back together. Every sigh was another piece of them coming back together. When she shuddered her way through her first climax, he held on tighter, willing himself to wait.
“More,” he whispered. “More,” he said and sipped from her mouth, tugging her knee higher as he sunk inside of her. Her eyes flashed wide, tears rolled into her hair as she hugged him tighter and they rocked together. He pressed his forehead to hers, his lips drifting to her temples to take the tears, then her mouth as the salt mingled into their kiss.
Her fingers gripped his shoulders as she took him again and again. As the orgasm between them took over and the slide of flesh and the rolling emotions crashed together into release, he heard his name on her lips.
He buried his face into her neck, into the taste and smell of her until she held onto him as tight as he was holding onto her. “I love you,” he whispered into her shoulder. He smoothed her hair back and said it again into her eyes.
Her tears were free flowing at that point, so he rolled them until her cheek rested on his chest. “Shh. Tessa,” he pressed a kiss into her forehead.
She propped herself up on her elbow, one hand flat on his heart, her eyelashes starred in tears. She leaned down, her lips brushing his chin, his mouth, his cheek then back to his mouth. “The words, I love you, don’t even cover it,” she whispered. Clearing her throat, she laughed a little when his hand cupped her cheek.
“Then I’ll show you every day.” He wiped away the tears, tumbling her back onto his chest until he could hook her around in front of him and he could spoon around the back of her with their legs tangled. He tucked his chin into her neck and smiled into her hair as her fingers automatically scratched through the hair of his forearm. He needed this more than anything.
The natural closeness and the feel of her against him soothed like none other. And in the sunshine he held her and slept.
