The ride up to our room seems to last a thousand years, and the walk down the hall a second thousand. But then, I’m sliding the key card into the slot and the green light on the door flashes—a sign if I’ve ever seen one—and we’re alone in a beautiful room with a view of the city sparkling twenty stories below, and nothing to do but get our clothes off and our hands on each other.
I put the bag from the shop on the nightstand and wander to the desk on the other side of the room before turning to face Lark, nervous. It’s hard to believe this is really happening.
She’s so beautiful, so good and fun and sweet and…mine.
Finally mine.
I want this night to be perfect. This isn’t just our first time together, but also, I hope, our last time sleeping with someone new. I never want to touch another woman. I want it to be Lark’s lips I kiss goodnight from tonight until the day they put me in the ground.
This is it, one of the biggest moments of my life, and I’m suddenly feeling the pressure.
And of course, she knows. She can sense it. She can read me like no one else ever could or ever will.
A smile gentles her lips. “Nervous?”
“No,” I lie.
She narrows her eyes. “Are you sure? Because you look a little nervous.” Before I can respond, her fingers move to the top of her red dress, slowly slipping the button at the top through its hole, robbing me of my capacity for speech.
“But there’s no reason to be,” she continues, undoing another and another, until she reaches the final button near her waist and the front of her dress gapes open, revealing a black satin bra, making my heart beat so fast I can feel it punching my ribs like a fist.
She holds my eyes as she reaches for the zipper on the side of her dress and drags it down with a smooth buzz that’s audible in the almost silent room. The only sounds are that zipper, the patter of rain on the windows, and the blood pumping too fast through my veins.
“I mean…” She begins bunching the skirt of her dress in her hands, revealing more curvy thigh with each passing second. “We’ve both done this before.”
I swallow, finally finding my voice. “No, we haven’t. Not together. And I never have, really, not with someone who matters the way you matter. I’m crazy in love with you, Lark March. Always have been, always will be.”
She pauses with her dress bunched so high I catch a glimpse of matching black panties. “Me, too,” she whispers, her eyes shining.
“So I think it’s okay if—” My words end in a swiftly drawn breath as she draws her dress over her head in one smooth motion.
The filmy red fabric floats to the ground between us, but my attention is all for Lark.
Lark, standing in front of me in nothing but a bra and tiny black panties that make her skimpy bathing suit seem modest in comparison, all her curves on display, every dip and hollow practically begging for my lips to explore them. The black satin emphasizes the pale beauty of her skin, making her seem to glow in the dim light.
She’s breathtaking, like something out of a dream, too beautiful to be part of the everyday world.
“You’re staring,” she murmurs, her fingers tangling together in front of her.
“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
She shakes her head, but her eyes don’t leave mine. “I need to lose fifteen pounds.”
“Bullshit. You’re perfect.” I cross to her in three long steps, gathering her into my arms, my pulse leaping as my hands find the soft skin where her waist begins to curve into her hips and squeeze just hard enough to make her eyes darken.
“You don’t need to lose a pound,” I continue, drawing her closer, my hands skimming up and down her sides, from her hips to just under her breasts as I back her toward the bed. “In fact, I’d be angry if you did.”
“Is that right?” she asks in a breathy voice. Her knees hit the bed and she scoots on top, sliding back toward the pillows as I kick off my shoes and pull at my socks. “Well, I wouldn’t want to make you angry.”
“No, you wouldn’t. I’m a shit when I’m angry.” I quickly work open the buttons on my shirt, shrug it off, and reach for the bottom of my undershirt, tugging it over my head.
“You’re sexy when you’re angry,” she says, her chest rising and falling faster as her gaze skims down my chest to where my hands work at the close of my pants. “Your eyes do hot, flashy things when you’re angry.”
“Hot, flashy things?” Holding her gaze, I step out of my pants, wearing nothing but black boxer briefs that I know do nothing to conceal the way she affects me. I’ve never been this hard. Or wanted to be with a woman so much. And it isn’t just a physical want, it’s a soul deep need to get as close to this incredible, intoxicating, deeply-lovable person as I can get.
I adore her, and I can’t wait to show her how much.
“Yeah, just like that,” she whispers, reaching a hand toward me. “Now, get over here. I need to touch you. Everywhere.”
She doesn’t have to ask me twice. A second later, I’m on the bed with Lark beneath me, her arms wrapped around my neck as we come together for the first time in four long years.
Warm, soft skin, meets warmer, softer skin and for a second I forget how to breathe. Her kiss is an electrical storm sweeping through my nervous system, short-circuiting the usual pathways, leaving me to hack out a new way to feel, a new way to experience what she does to me.
Our mouths move slowly at first, testing, exploring, and then the tip of her tongue brushes across my bottom lip and slow is a thing of the past. Mouths open and heads angle and soon I’m lost in the taste of her, the feel of her mouth so alive against my own, the softness of her body as she squirms beneath me, hips lifting, legs parting to wrap around my waist, drawing me tight to the heat between her thighs.
I press against her, the thin barriers of my boxers and her panties too much, and not enough, at the same time.
“Wait,” I murmur against her lips before I pull away, putting a few inches of air between us. “Let’s slow down.”
“I don’t want to slow down,” she says, pulling at my shoulders, urging me closer once more. “I want you.”
“And I want you, you have no idea how much.” I reach behind her back to unhook her bra, using both hands, knowing I’m already too unsteady to manage it with just one. “But I have unfinished business.”
She arches her back, giving me easier access to the close of her bra, bringing her breasts within inches of my mouth in the process. I groan as I free the hooks from their clasps and draw the bra down her arms before tossing it to the floor.
There she is, bare to my mouth for the very first time. Back when we were dating, I touched her just about everywhere, but always under the bra or over the panties. We never let ourselves get more than partially undressed, knowing we wouldn’t be able to keep our promise to wait until we were engaged and living together if all our clothes came off.
But now…
Now…
I close my eyes for a second and open them again, still not completely sure this isn’t a dream. She’s even more beautiful than I imagined. Her full breasts are creamy white, and her nipples the palest shade of pink drawn into tight points that beg for me to taste them.