“God, I’m glad I never gave you my phone number.”

She smiled, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t have used it. Because the more I thought about it, the more I wanted something beyond conversation. I’ve been so sad for so long, Henry. I’ve felt so unwanted and undesirable. Words are nice, but they can still be lies. I wanted to feel with my body—and with yours—the kind of desire that can’t be faked. I needed proof that you find me beautiful and sexy. I wanted to be so tempting you couldn’t resist. I wanted to have that kind of power over you and give you that kind of power over me. Does that make sense?”

“I think so.” I paused, running a hand over my jaw. “Is it terrible that I just really wanted to fuck you?”

Her head fell back as she burst out laughing. “No,” she said. “That is actually perfect.”

“Is it terrible that I’m already thinking about doing it again?”

Her laughter died down, but a smile stayed on her lips. “No.”

“Good.” I swept her off her feet and started walking toward my bedroom. “Because I wasn’t about to let you leave.”

Eleven

Sylvia

He carried me to his bedroom. Carried me. Like I was a bride, or he was a caveman, or maybe like he was a fireman rescuing me from a burning building and taking me to safety—and I did feel safe in his arms.

But I felt other things too. Deliciously naughty. Unabashedly sexy. Fearlessly free to say and do and have everything I wanted.

And I wanted him in every possible way.

He was better than any fantasy I’d ever had, not that my fantasies had even gotten close to what I’d experienced in the hallway. The way he talked made my body turn molten. The way he kissed made me weak. The way he put my pleasure first—twice!—before he thought about his own was a revelation. I couldn’t believe it.

And then once he’d given himself permission to let go . . . good God, I thought he’d tear me in two. I’d never been with anyone so strong or big or rough.

But he was gentle now, setting me on top of his sheets. The room was dark and smelled like him. I inhaled the scent, dizzy with lust and happiness and anticipation.

He switched on a bedside lamp. “I hope you don’t mind the light.”

I smiled, rolling onto one side, my head resting on my arm. “I don’t mind. I like seeing you. It gives me butterflies.”

“I was hoping it would make you want to get naked.” He pulled off one of my heels.

Giggling, I sat up and watched him remove the other. “That too. Want to unzip my dress?”

“That would be a hell yes.” He took my hand and pulled me to my feet. “Turn around.”

I turned, lifting my hair off my neck. Slowly, he pulled the zipper down my back, and the red dress fell to my feet. Stepping out of it, I suddenly felt self-conscious. I hadn’t been fully naked in front of a man without the cover of darkness in a long time. I hadn’t been fully naked in front of anyone but my ex since I was twenty—and I didn’t have that body anymore. I’d had two children. Even though I knew it was stupid, that nagging little prickle of insecurity still stung . . . I’d been left for a younger woman. He’d told her I didn’t excite him anymore. Was my body to blame? Before I could stop myself, I covered my chest with my arms, wrapping one fist inside the other and tucking them beneath my chin.

“Hey.” Henry turned me by the shoulder so I was facing him again. “Don’t do that.”

“What?” I had trouble looking him in the eye.

He tipped my chin up. “Don’t hide yourself from me.”

“I’m not hiding,” I said, but of course I was.

Taking me by the wrists, he forced my arms down to my sides, and looked at me.

I started to panic a little.

I was totally bare before him—stretch marks, C-section scar, less-than-perky breasts and all. Unlike many of my friends, I’d never had surgery to restore my post-baby body to its former tight, bouncy, unmarked state. Now I was kind of wishing I had.

I’d never felt so naked or vulnerable in my life.

“Sylvia, I’m going to say this once,” Henry said seriously. “And then, since you’ve learned not to trust words entirely, I’m going to spend the rest of the night showing you that it’s true—I think you are the most exquisite woman on the face of the earth, in every way. There is no part of your body, no inch of your skin, that isn’t perfect, because it’s yours.” He took my head in his hands and kissed me, hard but sweet. “And all I want to do is make you mine, even if it’s just for tonight.”

“Yes,” I whispered. I rose up on my toes, pressing my lips to his again while my hands went to work unbuttoning his shirt. “Make me yours tonight, Henry. That’s all I want to be.”

As our kiss grew more passionate, we managed to work off his clothes, although it wasn’t easy since neither of us was willing to unlock our lips for very long. But soon we were skin to skin, wrapped in an embrace much like we’d been on Christmas Eve, only naked this time.

His body—lean and hard—made the flames in me jump higher. They burned beneath my skin, desperate to escape. My hands roamed over his broad shoulders, slid down his sculpted chest, brushed over the taut ridges of his stomach. I’d never been with a man like Henry, whose solid muscles were built by labor and honed by hours spent at the gym. I wanted to feel his weight on me, wrap my legs around him as he entered my body, see his face above mine as we moved together.

“Your body is incredible,” I told him, letting my palms move down over his ass. “I had no idea.”

“Generally, I try to wear clothes in public, so—oh, fuck.”

I’d reached between us and taken his cock in my hand, and he groaned as his hot, thick flesh slipped through my fingers. I had forgotten how exhilarating and empowering it was to make a man this aroused, this needy, this hard. I loved the way he thrust inside my fist, the way his fingers dug into my hips, the way he cursed and growled, like he was trying to hold back but wasn’t sure how long he could last. It made me feel sexy and confident.

“You’re so hard,” I whispered against his lips, tightening my grip. “How is that even possible? It hasn’t been that long.”

“It’s only possible because it’s you.”

Again he scooped me into his arms and placed me on his bed. I felt feverish with need as he stretched out above me and opened my legs so he could settle his hips between my thighs. He reached low and touched me, easily slipping his fingers inside and rubbing the warm, slick wetness over my clit. I gasped, arching my back with my arms tossed above my head.

My eyes closed and I felt his lips close over one hard, tingling nipple, felt his tongue tease and stroke it. My belly hollowed and quivered, and gooseflesh rippled across my skin. I threaded my fingers in his hair as he moved to the other breast and sucked greedily, his fingers moving faster, rubbing harder.

Was it possible I could actually come a third time?

I would never have thought so, but as the sensations swirled deep within my core, as my legs began to thrum with pleasure, as I twisted languorously beneath him, I decided to stop thinking about it and just immerse myself in this vast, warm ocean of sensual bliss.