His fingers begin their light draw over my skin. It’s like his fingers are the brushes and my skin is the paint on the canvas. It feels like my breathing has been taken over by someone else. I have no control over it. I had a feeling what his touch would do. This is so much better. So different.
As I grew in my modeling career, I figured out it was an awesome place to hide. I didn’t have to name my emotions. I didn’t have to use words. I could use my eyes, my lips, my posture…anything but words. I think he was the first to notice it. He could sense it because he does the same thing. He only gave me his words when he thought I couldn’t hear them.
What would I tell him if I was speaking now?
The list of dirty things is so long, I lose track of what is first. He understands the eyes. I’m going to let them speak for me. He’ll learn the list. I know he will.
He cups me so gently in his hand as we rise to our knees. With my free hand I slide the knot out of my robe so the edges fall slowly open. He can look wherever he wants to. My body is there for the gawk. He shocks me by never looking away from my eyes.
His eyes are so blue that I would swear they have their own color named after them. Some people look right through you like you aren’t even there. Some people look at you, but they never really see you. He looks at me and I feel he’s studying my soul. He can hear my thoughts with his eyes.
As his right hand is memorizing every pore of the skin on my breast, his left begins a journey from my sternum, slowly over the swell of my left breast, and out to my shoulder. The movement I used to massage his scalp in the shower is now being returned to my skin.
His touch is so soft it’s like being kissed by a strand of loose hair across your skin blown by the wind. I can feel a chill running up and down not only my spine, but across my shoulder and down my arm. I try to stifle it, but a soft sigh leaves my lips.
A smile radiates from his eyes, but his lips never move. He cocks his head slightly to the left as his left hand disappears between my body and the fabric of the robe. The anticipation of feeling his touch again gives me the feeling of being at the top of the roller coaster, just before the dive to the bottom.
That bottom falls away the minute he reaches my spine and slides his hand up to open the clasp of my bra. I desperately want to feel his skin against mine, but this is also becoming scary. I feel like I’m falling. Is it to give my soul to the devil or falling open like the petals of a flower to seek the sun, rain, and life?
The clasp gives way with one flick of his fingers. Either way I fall, I want it to be on my terms. I reach for his right hand with mine and gently pull it away from my body. His eyes become increasingly confused, mixed with what I can feel would be a little hurt.
I instantly calm his confusion by shrugging the robe away, letting it pool across the back of my legs. The lace straps of my bra begin to trail off my shoulders to the crease of my elbows. He settles back on his heels for what I can only imagine is a better view.
I let the lace peel away from my skin and drop to the floor at the foot of the bed. I mimic his movement by sitting back on my own heels. He’s right. This does give you a better view. I want to memorize every pore on his beautiful face. Every crease around his eyes tells a story.
Where he’s been. How he came through it. If he came through it. There is a delicate strength to his jaw. I want to feel each blade of stubble burn across my skin. His tattoos are cryptic but beautiful. They’re just like his art. Abstract yet linear and full of meaning.
In his fit of rage and despair last night, I watched the muscles in his back arch and move. I thought I wouldn’t find anything else on him that turned me on more. I was wrong. After sleeping on his chest, that wins out. My cheek fit perfectly between his pectorals. His stunningly large hands spent hours wrapped around my body and gave me a sense of safety I’ve never felt from a lover.
We’re now in the sexiest game of chicken I’ve ever played. Who will move first? Who will speak first?
I can feel my heart nearly wanting to pound out of my chest. I want those hands on me again. I’d like them to explore every inch of my body. I don’t even want to tell him what I like. I want to see what he likes and what he would do to me if I let him. With the pull I can feel between us, I’d let him do just about anything.
For the first time since I arrived, he truly smiles. It’s not the smile after you’ve finished laughing at a story you’ve heard. It’s not the smile you offer a stranger as you pass on the sidewalk. It’s the smile that you give someone you know intimately. A smile of complete contentment. He slowly reaches his fingers out toward me. His index finger makes a feather-like connection with the apple of my cheek.
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
Oh God.
I could melt into a thousand pools. I have fantasized about him being so deep inside me I don’t know where I begin or where he would end. Right now, the reality of what we’re about to do is greater than the need for my fantasy.
“Tristan…” I lower my head because I don’t think I’ll have the courage to say what comes next if I don’t. “I’m not ready. I thought I was, I really want to. I’m just not there. I’m sorry.”
He continues to trace my bare skin with his fingers. “I want you more than I’ve wanted anything in a long time, Petal. I will not take you unless you consent. I’m content with staring at you for hours. I’m more than happy to commit every inch of your skin to memory with my fingertips. I’m honored by your presence. You have my word as a man.”
“The things you say sometimes. I feel like you were born in another era and were set in this one for some reason. It…makes me feel things.”
“Mmm…feel things. Like what?”
“Like I’d like to stay. Like I want you to keep touching me. Like I want you to kiss me.”
I can feel a heat like no other race through my body like a fire in a forest. The anticipation of my request lays heavy between both of us. The corners of Tristan’s lips turn up just slightly. He leans toward me. Out of instinct, I raise my chin just a little and hold my breath. His strong hands float at my elbows, sliding upward until they encase my neck.
“Petal, I’ve waited impatiently for this moment for a long time.”
Before I can utter another word, his lips seal over mine.
Together, we relish in the intimate connection it seems we’ve both wanted since minute one. At first, our lips are the only things that move. They softly blend and fold against one another. Then our arms slide around each other and hold tight. We’re in a delicate dance, on a highwire above a waterfall. It’s beautiful, captivating even, but one misstep, one mistake, and we’ll plummet straight down into something we may never come back from.
If he’d followed his reputation, even in this moment I would have been flat on my back while he completely overwhelmed me. He’s doing nothing like that at all. His hands cup me so gently. It’s almost like he thinks he could break me. Does he know?
His fingers obsess over my hair, drawing through it like teeth on a comb, but at the very end, he tugs and twists with a controlled passion. I open my lips a little to invite him inside. He moans a quiet bit of appreciation as his tongue begins to explore and mine does in kind. We blend our nearly fully naked bodies from our knees. His heat is nearly overwhelming. What I feel is overwhelming.