Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

LILY

W e sit in the living room, eating pizza that I found in the freezer, and watching an old episode of SWAT on Netflix. It would be ridiculously domestic except for the distinct sexual buzz in the air. We’re sitting side by side on the couch, in our towels, not quite touching but certainly not avoiding each other. He’s gloriously bare-chested, and it’s difficult for me not to sneak glances at his broad, smooth pecs and those tight square abs. I can smell the shower gel we both used earlier, woodsy, with a hint of pine. I hide a shiver of desire, the hairs on my arms bristle with awareness at his nearness. Between my legs there’s a growing dampness, and even though he’s not looking at me, every part of me is on slow-burn in anticipation.

Through the windows the trees are an amorphous dark shadow, silhouetted beneath the slightly paler sky. Not a single light breaks the wide horizon. We’re completely alone in the middle of the swamp. We’ve lit a couple of lamps, which give the room a warm glow and cast a golden light over Tate’s face. I turn to look at his profile, a bare kiss away, at the stubbled, square jaw, the tiny creases at the corners of his eyes and the slightly forward thrust of his chin. I hold my breath trying not to give into the urge to trace his jawline with my lips, to smooth his cheekbones with my fingers. Being this close to him. This is an expectant lull before the storm.

I’ve experienced plenty of close shaves before, but this, this time it’s different. Inside I’m shaky. Unbalanced. For the first time since I walked away from Tate eight years ago, I don’t know what step to take. I can no longer rely on the ground beneath my feet, it could fall away at any moment. I need to hold on to him. I don’t know what it means but I’m going to take everything I can while it’s on offer. I can worry about having my heart broken again, another time. For now, I’m holding on to this, and whatever it brings.

‘This was good pizza.’ Tate licks his lips and pushes away his empty plate, grinning at me. ‘I’m always going to have fond memories of pizza.’ His smile is quick and dirty, ramping up the low-level buzz of excitement radiating through me.

‘I think you’ve said that before.’ I try to sound normal, but my voice is breathy. I want him, all of him, for however long we’ve got.

‘Just reminding you in case you’d forgotten.’

For some reason, despite our intimacy earlier, I blush, and his grin ratchets up to a whole new level, a gleam of lust in his eyes. I swallow and he sees it. The telltale sign of my nervous arousal.

Without a word, Tate rolls off the couch to his knees and advances towards me. He stops in front of me and looks me dead in the eyes before he parts my knees and slides his hands up the back of my legs to pull me forward. My towel unfurls and my legs open, exposing me, and his eyes gleam with satisfaction.

‘And there she is,’ he whispers. ‘Fuck, you’re beautiful, Lily. That is one gorgeous pussy.’ He dips a finger into me. ‘So wet.’ Then he takes his finger and puts it into his mouth.

I clamp my mouth together, trying to hold back the involuntary gasp, shy and turned on at the same time. Tate has the power to excite and terrify me at the same time. It’s like being on the high diving board about to jump, knowing that it’s scary but that you’ll love it at the same time.

I close my eyes and hold my breath waiting for his mouth to touch me.

‘No, no, no,’ he says and pinches one of my nipples.

I inhale sharply.

‘Watch. Enjoy. You know you want to.’

I nod, because I do. He always teased me about my English reserve, but I’ve never been able to do anything like this with any other man. Only Tate.

His dips his head between my legs and I gaze down at his dark silky hair as his mouth latches onto me, hot and wet, his tongue swirling over my sensitive nerve endings, the sensation so intense I almost hyperventilate. I drown in sensation as he licks and sucks. It’s a while before I realise the high-pitched keen is mine. I’m losing control, and I try to wriggle free. It’s too much, but not enough. I’m climbing higher but I need more. Tate’s hands hold my hips, keeping me firmly in place. I’m panting, desperate to get there, but he’s in control, holding my orgasm at bay with the constant teasing: advance and retreat, lick and suck.

‘Fuck, Tate.’ I clutch at his head. ‘Please. I need—’ It feels like my clit is on fire, it’s so swollen. I need friction, hard thrusts.

He lifts his head. He rubs my clit with one finger as he studies me for a second.

‘What do you need, Lily?’

‘You. I need you.’

He rises to his feet and pulls me up, scooping me up into his arms and striding to the bedroom. His profile is stern and serious. God, what am I doing? This is it, after all these years we’re passing the point of no return, but I couldn’t stop now even if I wanted to.

He puts me down and then releases his towel, standing in front of me, his huge erection proudly at attention. I swallow. Christ, I want him.

‘I want you,’ I say looking him straight in the eye.

‘Don’t look at me like that. I might not last,’ he grumbles.

I take his hand and lead him towards the bed, then I turn him round and push him down. He takes me with him and I’m lying on top of him, feeling his warm skin against my body. I inhale sharply at the feel of him beneath me, my nerve endings dancing with delight and wild abandon. He rolls us over so that he’s above me, taking his weight on his elbows.

‘Are we really doing this?’ I ask softly, scarcely able to think straight. I’m consumed with aching need, but at the same time it almost feels too special to spoil. I want to hold onto the magical anticipation a little while longer.

He looks down at me. ‘I want to say the right thing– only if you want to– but the honest truth, Lily, is that I think I want this more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.’ He places the softest, gentlest kiss on the corner of my lips. ‘But if you’ve changed your mind …’

I put my arms around his back and hug him to me. ‘No.’

‘You know I don’t have any protection on me,’ there’s a wistful expression on his face.

‘It’s a good job I’m on the pill.’

‘I’m clean.’

‘I know you are, after all the time we spent in the shower.’

He smiles and leans forward, pushes my hair from my face and kisses me deep and I want to inhale him, draw him into me.

The mood changes, serious and intent now, as the kiss consumes us. It’s my entire focus, his mouth roving across my lips, and I’m aware of his body, hot and heavy over mine. Our breaths turn to pants, our bodies pushing and pulling towards each other, and I can feel the strong tug of desire pulling me down into another place where there’s only him.

I lift my hips, desperate and needy. At the touch of him, I push forward, wanting all of him, and then in one slow but sure push, he thrusts inside. He’s heavy, stretching me, filling me. It’s heaven and I want more. He groans.

‘Lily…’ He holds for a second and I can feel tiny pulses inside me. Then he surges forward again. ‘You…’ He withdraws and then glides back in hard. ‘Feel…’ He slides back. ‘So…’

He thrusts harder again. ‘Fucking…’ He pulls back and this time slams home. ‘Good…’

I lift my hips, push for push. His forceful pace is slow and steady, but my body welcomes each lunge, the friction a delicious burn of heat and fire. He sets a pace, reaching into me, over and over again. Pleasure mounts with every movement. I cry out his name, barely able to hold on, but he’s relentless, driving into me, and I’m breathing hard trying to keep up with the punishing pace, rising to meet each push. My skin is covered with a sheen of sweat. My orgasm is hovering, elusive and out of reach. Frustration makes me moan.

He adds a finger rubbing over my clit and I cry out his name at the sensory overload.

‘That’s it, Lily.’

His jaw is tense, the muscles in his neck corded with tension. His powerful arms bulging with the strain of his weight.

‘Please, Tate, please.’ I’m not even sure what I’m begging for.

‘Fuuuuck. I’m coming. I’m coming,’ he shouts, and with one last thrust I feel him come inside me just as the wave of intense pleasure hits, washing over me. I collapse back into the pillows clinging to Tate’s sweat-soaked back and he lowers his body onto me. I sigh, welcoming his weight. There’s something satisfying about being anchored beneath him and I hold onto him, savouring the tremors and aftershocks in my core and the feeling of him inside me.

After a while, Tate rolls onto his side, taking me with him. We lie studying each other in the lamp light.

‘Well, that was worth waiting for,’ he says, stroking a finger down my cheek.

‘It was,’ I say. My heart rate may never return to normal. I feel like I could float off the bed.

‘It’s never been like that with anyone else,’ he says, a rasp to his voice.

I’m surprised that he’s being so open with me, and it forces me to be honest with him. ‘Nor me. I… I’m not normally that intimate with anyone.’

He touches my face. ‘It’s a turn-on, you know.’

‘What is?’

‘You being shy.’

‘I’m not shy, I’m just not… not used to…’ The truth is I’ve avoided real intimacy. Never allowing anyone to get too close. Sex is always businesslike and perfunctory. Almost transactional. I never stay over or let anyone else do that with me. I’ve always told myself that it’s the nature of the job, it’s important to stay independent, but the truth is, I’ve never felt I could be like that with anyone else but Tate. He always had my back. All that time ago, I always knew I could rely on him. He looked after me in a way that no one had ever done. I’d trusted him to look after me.

It would appear I still trust him. With my body, at least.