When he starts to talk to me in Russian—guttural, foreign words growled hotly into my ear—I’m there. I can’t hold on any longer. Waves of pleasure bear down on me with increasing speed until I’m bucking wildly underneath him, moaning his name.
He kisses me on the throat and commands, “Come.”
Then he breaches that tight little ring of muscle between my ass cheeks and pushes his finger inside me.
My climax hits me like an explosion.
I lose myself in a blinding whiteout of heat and pleasure, convulsing around him, a noise like howling winds in my ears. I hear him cursing from somewhere far off, feel him shuddering and hear his hoarse groans, but I’m way out in space, hurtling toward infinity.
Supernova.
Gone.
I’m feral, a wild thing uncontained. I’ve never experienced such intense feelings of bliss and euphoria. I don’t care about anything, past or future. Only now exists.
Only he exists, and I exist only for him.
I’m an addict, and he’s heroin, injected straight into my veins.
The moment stretches out into timelessness. I live and die a thousand times, resurrected into his arms only to be lost again. I lose all sense of who I am, and that feels right, like in losing myself, I’ve finally discovered what I’ve searched for so desperately: Meaning.
This connection we have right now is the only thing that matters, because it’s the only thing that will remain when everything else is gone. Nothing means anything, because in the end, it all falls away.
Except this.
I know I’ll take this moment with me to my grave…and whatever comes after.
When I come back to myself, I’m weeping.
My lover knows what to do.
Swiftly untying my hands from their restraints, he whispers to me softly, sweet words of praise and devotion. He takes off the blindfold, bundles me in blankets, and gathers me into his arms. He rocks me, his arms and legs curved around my body, his heat and strength a balm to my frazzled mind.
He makes me feel safe. Safe and protected, like only he can.
When I fall asleep in his arms, exhausted, he stays with me until I wake again hours later, blinking into the bright sunlight slanting through the bedroom blinds.
“Hello,” he murmurs, smiling at me with his eyes.
“Hello,” I whisper back, my heart expanding.
“Are you hungry?”
“I could eat. You?”
“A horse.”
“I’m all out of horse. How about pancakes, instead?”
“Sounds fantastic. Anything that keeps you away from the oven.”
We grin at each other for a beat, then we both start laughing.
It’s a long time before we stop.
29
Nat
After that day, something changes between us.
We don’t talk about it, but it’s there, an electrical awareness that we’ve moved beyond whatever we were before into new, deeper territory.
We anticipate each other’s words. We finish each other’s sentences. Emotions are conveyed with nothing but a look. We spend the week between Christmas and New Year alone together in my house, talking, eating, watching old movies, and making love.
It’s paradise.
And like every paradise, it comes to an end.
When I wake up on the cold, snowy morning of January third, I’m in Kage’s arms in bed. He’s already awake, gazing at me with his signature dark intensity, but there’s something else in his eyes that makes my heartbeat flutter.
I whisper, “You’re leaving.”
“I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
I close my eyes and snuggle closer to him, wanting this to last just a little longer. But all too soon, he’s climbing out of bed and getting dressed.
I sit up in bed and pull my knees up to my chest, watching him, my lungs tight. I know this is how it will always be and feel a pang of sadness so strong, it leaves me breathless. But when he turns back to me, I look down at the sheets to hide my eyes.
He doesn’t want to go, either. It’s just the way it is. Making him feel guilty won’t help either of us.
Standing at the edge of the bed, he pulls me to him. I wrap my arms around his waist and rest my head on his hard stomach as he caresses my hair.
“When do your classes start up again?”
“Next week.”
It’s a pity the school’s holiday break isn’t shorter, because without work to go back to, I’m not sure what I’ll be doing with all my extra time now that he’ll be gone.
He cups my face in his hands and turns it up so I’m looking at him. His eyes are shadowed. His voice comes very soft. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Giving me something to live for.”
He leans over and kisses me softly on the lips. Without another word, he turns and walks out.
I sit on the bed where he left me, listening to his footsteps recede through the house. The front door opens and closes, and he’s gone.
Knowing a future of little heartbreaks like this one awaits me, I struggle not to let the tears fall. Then I take a deep breath and throw the covers off, stand and straighten my shoulders, and head to the shower to start my day.
There’s no use wallowing in misery. It serves no purpose and changes nothing in the end.
If anyone knows that well, it’s me.
I do all the laundry. I clean the house from top to bottom. I take a brisk walk around the block. By the time five o’clock rolls around, I’m feeling better, certain it won’t be long before Kage comes back and this sour little knot in my stomach can unwind.
When my cell rings, I’m in the kitchen, pouring myself a glass of wine. I grab the phone from where it’s charging on the countertop. When I see the number on the readout, I’m overjoyed.
“Sloane! You’re alive!”
She laughs. “Of course I’m alive, ding-a-ling. Just because we haven’t talked in ten days doesn’t mean I’m lying in a ditch somewhere.”
“How was I supposed to know that? You didn’t call me to wish me a happy New Year. Or Christmas.”
She laughs again. “Hello, kettle, meet the pot. You didn’t call me, either.”
Grinning, I say, “I was kinda busy.”
“Oh, really? Do tell. Has your vadge fallen out yet from all the pounding it’s been taking?”
“You first. How’s Stavros? Where are you now? Africa? Belize?”
I hear the smile in her voice when she answers. “Closer. Come to the front door.”
I whirl around and hustle through the house, throwing open the front door to find her standing on my porch with her phone to her ear, grinning at me.
Wearing a dazzling hot-pink ski outfit complete with white fur-lined boots and a matching furry white hat, she looks like she just returned from winning a gold medal in the Winter Olympics.
We throw our arms around each other and start laughing.
“I missed you!”
Still laughing, she pulls away. “I know. It’s terrible without me around. But I’m sure you must’ve been keeping yourself busy with your stud.” She glances behind me, looking into the house through the open door.
My face falls. “He left this morning.”
She says drily, “Not without marking his territory first, I see.”
Reaching up to touch the tender spot on my neck she’s looking at, I blush. “He, um, sometimes gets a little carried away.”