She helps me shimmy out of my trunks completely and I watch Lucy eye me up and down.
“Justlookat you.”
I chuckle, a bit embarrassed but pleased with her assessment. “No, Luce. Look atyou.” I scoop her up and walk us down the steps into the pool, kissing her along the way.
I’m a junkie for those lips; I’ll never get enough.
“Henry?” she asks, stepping back into the water. “Want to make up a song? We could really branch out with a sea shanty.” She eyes the pirate ship raft.
“No.”
I grab onto her hips and kiss her again.
27
Lucy
After our swimwe decide to take advantage of his outdoor shower. He pulls me by the hand, and we shuffle quickly through the house and his room. My legs are wrapped around him before he even gets the water on, and he holds me up against the wall.
“Can you be gentle?” I really don’t want to explain about my endo right now, and luckily he doesn’t need me to. So far, Henry is excellent at taking directions.
“Anything you need. Just tell me, okay?” He starts to kiss my ear as he presses into me and begins whispering softly, “Anything you want . . . fuck . . . please tell me what you want . . . is this okay . . . fuck . . . Lucy, you feel . . . amazing.” This might be the most I’ve heard Henry say all at once. I guess I finally figured out how to get the man of few words to ramble as mindlessly as I do.
Sex with Henry is euphoric. He’s slow, reverent; never once letting his lips or fingertips leave my skin. His body is pure muscle, holding me up easily with one hand while the other caresses every part of me. It might be the best sex I’ve ever had. Every movement, every kiss, sends more heat into me until I’m nothing more than a molten puddle.
As he finishes, I feel his teeth sinking gently into my neck. It’s the most possessive thing I’ve ever experienced during sex and reminds me of all the Fae novels I obsess over. Maybe fictional men do exist.
When he sets me down, he moves us directly under the waterfall shower. The droplets send tingles from my scalp, past my neck and down to my bare breasts. He never stops touching me, his hand between my legs, his teeth dragging against the back of my shoulder. I brace my hands on the wall as I come, Henry behind me, holding me so tight I’m not sure if my feet are still on the ground.
After we dry off, he takes my hand and wordlessly leads me to his bed. We’ve spoken so little all night, and I’m not sure what this all means, how I’m going to fixthis, but he lies down next to me and starts slowly stroking my hair. I’ve never felt such pure bliss. Even though I know this thing between us will be short-lived, I lean into his touch, wishing I could suspend this moment in time.
“Thank you for the kiss.”
I scoff when he says it, knowing we’ve clearly gone beyond akisstonight; but he is stoic, no hint of amusement on his face.
He closes his eyes and drops his voice to barely a whisper. It comes out guttural and thick with emotion. “I think about kissing you all the time. I keep trying to write this battle scene—dragons, monsters, it’s bloody intense—but all I can see in my head is your lips, your smile, the flutter of your eyelashes, and the notes turn much too lovely. You may be the end of my career as I know it.”
Words escape me, so I snuggle in closer to him. He kisses the tip of my nose and I feel like I might physically melt into his sheets. I don’t remember ever feeling this way with Jack. Loved, yes. Jack definitely loved me. He told me all the time, he did all the things a boyfriend, then a fiancé, and then a husband was supposed to do. Well, except the leaving me part. I guess he wasn’t supposed to do that.
But tonight, in Henry’s bed—in his arms—I feel adored, treasured, like my body is sacred to his own personal religion.
I must have dozed off at some point but wake when it’s still pitch-black outside. Henry is lying on his back and presumably sleeping. Suddenly all the dark thoughts start seeping into my brain, depleting the joy I felt earlier.
I need to go back to my room.Myroom.
I live here. This is already getting way too complicated. I can’t deny my feelings for him but where will this actually go? I know what kind of future Henry wants, and it’s not one I can give him.
Suddenly I’m picturing Jack. When he told me that I had put him in an impossible situation, that it was over. How he was young, he still had options, how could I not understand? I remember apologizing then, somehow empathizing with him in the moment instead of myself. Who does that? I remember how small I felt the next day. I never fought for us, for me. He left me after one year of marriage and I never even got to yell at him. Until yesterday. Somehow it didn’t make me feel any better.
Henry may seem perfect tonight, but I know better. Jack was perfect, until he wasn’t.
I slowly slide out of bed and tiptoe across the room, realizing my bikini is still outside by the pool and I have absolutely nothing to wear. With four other men in this house, walking around naked is not an option. I feel around for a drawer and open a few at random, find a pair of boxer shorts and throw them on. I can cover my chest with my arms if needed, I just have to get out of this room. I’m just turning the knob when I feel Henry’s hand on my shoulder.
“Where are you going?” He sounds hurt. I turn to face him but can barely make out his features in the dark.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. I thought it’d be best if I went back to my room.”
“Why?” Such a simple question. It’s so unnerving when he speaks like this. So matter-of-fact, like my answer should be just as effortless.
