When we tumbled into the dimly lit hallway, Crunchie barked at Luke, but within moments was rolling over and displaying her belly. Luke got down on one knee, petting her, then he glanced up, that familiar dark gaze. ‘Does she need to go out?’
‘Benigno next door took her earlier.’
Crunchie was trying to lick him to death. Yeah, you and me both.
But enough of Crunchie. I whistled and pointed towards the kitchen. ‘Sorry,’ I whispered to her sorrowful face, shutting the door firmly and turning around – straight into the heat of Luke’s body.
He pressed me against the wall, shifting his feet, adjusting his stance so that his hips were level with mine. Cradling my face between his splayed fingers, he whispered into my mouth, ‘Babe.’
His breath, his lips, his warmth, his sweetness – as the kiss intensified, relief flooded in, filling me up.
‘Rachel.’ His mouth still on mine, he groaned, ‘You are gorgeous.’
Desperate to reach his skin, I was pushing his jacket from his shoulders. It hit the floor, then I began to unbutton his shirt.
‘I’ve wanted you so badly,’ he breathed. ‘Tonight has been hell.’
Together, our hands fumbled over his buttons. ‘Watching you,’ he said. ‘Wanting you. Worried that you’d leave and –’
Parting the dark cotton, warm from his body, his skin released a fragrant fug, an intense distillation so musky and sweet that I moaned. ‘You smell like you.’
He laughed, his teeth flashing in the semi-darkness. ‘Who else would I smell like?’
‘The night you came over, raging about Kate and Devin, you were different.’
He flinched. ‘… That night. I’m sorry.’
‘No. Shush.’ Pulling his head down to kiss him again, my fingers got tangled in his curls. ‘I’ve missed your hair,’ I whispered.
‘I’ve missed your everything.’
Stroking the smooth skin of his stomach, I slid my thumb along the line of silky dark hair that arrowed downwards from his belly button. Arriving at his waistband, my fingertips moved to his belt buckle and as they slid over the scratched metal, his sharp hiss of breath was audible.
Suddenly anxious, I looked up at him. Maybe he’d misunderstood this. Maybe I had?
‘Oh God, Rachel.’ His voice was husky. ‘Don’t stop.’
‘If this is just because you’re horny … Then don’t do it. Please.’
Holding my gaze, his hands worked on something. There was the click and jingle of his buckle. Glancing down, I saw that his belt hung open and his top button had been popped. ‘I’m yours.’ Then he added, ‘If you want me.’
I could have laughed. ‘Do you want me?’
He indicated his body, the thick bulge, listing to the right, beneath his zip. ‘Not much point denying it, is there?’
The heat of his hand was on my thigh, sliding under my dress and upwards. When his fingertips touched the bare skin at the top of my hold-ups, he flinched. ‘Jesus, Rachel.’ His voice sounded choked. ‘Can we take this upstairs?’
I wanted to laugh with delight. I loved when he said things like that, stuff that was borderline cheesy.
In my bedroom, the lamp gave off a mellow glow. I lay Luke, shirtless, on my bed. ‘Let me do this. Please.’ I slipped my hands along his satin-smooth shoulders and the tangle of silver and braided leather around his neck.
With deliberate care, I undressed him. His boots first, then I moved to his jeans. Propped on his elbows, he watched with grim anticipation. ‘Rachel.’ His voice was low and urgent, his jaw clenched. ‘You couldn’t hurry things up? I’m dying here.’
‘This will be my only chance. I want to remember everything.’ I unzipped his jeans and inched them from his body, savouring his hair-roughened legs, the paler skin at the tops of his thighs, then all the drama of his crotch, as his erection sprang from his underwear.
I couldn’t stop myself from burying my face and inhaling the musky fragrance. ‘If only they could bottle it.’
He laughed, suddenly appearing light-hearted – then vaulted from the bed. ‘Babe, I’m sorry.’ He reached for me. ‘I’ve been patient long enough.’
It was like ballet, the ease with which he unzipped my dress. It fell to the floor and I stepped out from it, sensation flaring as my bare skin touched off his.
But when his fingers reached the clasp of my bra, he paused. ‘Rachel? Are you sure?’
‘This isn’t sex,’ I said. ‘It’s the only way to express our feelings.’