She stood, just long enough to get a good, long look at the UPS guy delivering the latest item she’d ordered online.
A good look because her—their, their—curtains were wide open in the front picture window.
UPS Man got an eyeful, too.
She ran down the hallway, body flushed with embarrassment, excitement, and a lingering sense of disgust from her conversation with Darla.
“What was that all about?” Alex asked as she slipped into the tiny shower with him, her face coated with the shower spray. He was so tall she had no choice. It was like showering under a very misty waterfall, and she kept her eyes closed most of the time.
Which was sad, because right before her was one of the seven-inch wonders of the modern world.
She opened one eye.
Make that eight.
“Darla started telling me all about some sex game she plays with Trevor and Joe—”
Alex’s entire body shuddered.
“Yeah, about right,” she confirmed, her hands running in opposite direction to the water’s flow on his arms, stretching over his shoulders, sliding down his back, ribcage, to his hard ass. Filling her hands with his flesh, she pulled him hard against her, and found him hard.
Against her.
The kiss he slammed her with was insistent and unyielding, the kind of claiming that only two people who have been together for a while can exercise. She opened her lips and he was inside her, tongue reacquainting itself with her warmth, telling her about his day, reuniting after so much time apart.
His long shifts were part of the deal in loving him: being with a doctor, she knew, carried the constant separation, and never knowing exactly when he would come home from a shift in the labor and delivery ward, or the ER, meant getting accustomed to ambiguity.
But he was here. Now. Hot and strong and wet and in her arms, and that—by God—was what she was going to think about right now. Not her silly niece’s sex life, or about the client shortage that Good Things Come in Threes was experiencing, or her flashing the UPS delivery dude, or the fact that she had just taken a ginormous leap forward in trusting Alex with a bigger piece of her life.
And her heart.
Right now, there were decidedly more delicious body parts that Alex could have pieces of, and my, oh my, was he finding them quite nicely without needing to use a map.
Josie was learning, stroke by stroke, caress by caress, lick by lick, that sex with the same person could be infinitely interesting given enough time and enough desire. While that should have been obvious, and she wondered how she’d managed to reach mature adulthood without really registering that little piece of wisdom, it was quite different when you lived it. Day by day, encounter by encounter, orgasm by orgasm.
The water’s mist was like an audience, watching and omnipresent, demanding access to their skin, their breath, their very essence, as Alex dropped to his knees and buried his face between her parted thighs, her hands reaching for the balance bar screwed—she hoped—tightly into the shower’s wall. Thank heaven for safety features, she loosely thought as his tongue found a way to make quite a show for the air that surrounded them. Her head tilted back as her neck muscles tightened and loosened, imitating the pattern of her sex as it clenched and released, and as she shifted slightly her movements were greeted with a face full of hot water.
Sputtering, she tugged lightly at his hair, and he moved up, hands on either side of her, caressing her calves, then knees, thumbs digging in possessively as he traversed her thighs, then hips, ribcage greeted by palms that enveloped her br**sts with a nearly feral touch. By the time his hands cradled her face for a kiss that tasted like her, like rain, like everything, she was ready to have him inside her.
More than ready.
Always thinking ahead, she thought as Alex turned away and gave her a spectacular view of an ass that was either forged in a Bessemer furnace or hand-carved by a sculptor. The condom he put on made her smile. No babies.
Not yet.
His touch was more insistent this time, her last view of him fleeting but unfurling a rosebud of need inside, his wet hair and determined, dark look making him dangerous. A force of nature. Her dangerous force of nature, of course, but as he centered her and lifted one leg into place for her, his shaft sliding in from behind and making her core grab hold of him like a velvet glove, she wanted danger.
Wanted him.
Her fingers curled in on the tile, eyes unfocused and body one cloud of wet, hot skin, pumping blood and tingling with the kinetic frenzy of having Alex behind her, all muscle and flow. He did all the work, and that was just fine, a tacit agreement that was forged through time. You do the work this time; I’ll ride you tonight…
Their cl**ax hit within three breaths, smashing them against the tile wall, their ability to calibrate it swept away by the mind-blowing, involuntary nature of impulse, biology, and release. She screamed, the sound guttural and base, low in her throat but raw, as Alex murmured her name over and over in her ear, the rasp muted by the shower spray and steam that applauded and shouted “Bravo!” at their performance.
Gasping, she slumped against the shower wall, Alex behind her, the wet hair on his thighs prickling her ass, the feel alien and intriguing.
“Too bad we can’t have porch sex again,” he said as she turned off the shower and slid back the curtain, reaching for two towels. Handing one to him, she paused for a moment to marvel at the casual domesticity of it all. Shower sex. A towel offered as if it were so natural. Part of the flow of time and building a life with another human being, to share for decades and beyond, all the way until the fire of mortality was gone, and the soul moved on.
Deep in her pensive moment, she missed Alex’s comment. Then he cleared his throat and said, “Penny for your thoughts?”
“They’re worth way more than that,” she said with a funny laugh, a sound choked with emotion. He had a radar when it came to her, which only made the moment more infused with emotion. Two days. He’d lived here for two days and already she was thinking about forever.
Abstract forever and real-life forever were two very different concepts.
So far she thoroughly enjoyed both.
“You have that look in your eyes,” he said in that warm, whiskey-laden voice that was so smooth it made her wet. The man could recite the Physician’s Desk Reference manual and she’d be writhing in sexual ecstasy in minutes.
“What look? The crazy cat-lady look?” As if on command, her skittish cat, Crackhead, darted out from underneath the couch and fled into the sanctuary of her—um, their—bedroom, ensconced under the bed, two shining orbs staring at them.