They both stepped forward, and when their bodies touched, the pressure which had been building evaporated into a sweet release. The tension he sensed on the beach was gone; Claire’s body was liquid in his hands—molding and conforming to his. Their lips united as a different tightness began to build deep within.

Claire was his—he was hers. It had been that way since before she even knew him—or knew of him. She could fight that revelation, but why? It wasn’t debatable; she couldn’t rewrite history. She didn’t want to—it all worked to put them where they were right now. Besides, every fiber of her being ached for his touch. Her body wanted him—that was undeniable. Each one of his caresses was but a tease, arousing sparks that only he could ignite into flames. The desire was obviously mutual as he pulled her closer. They didn’t say words, yet they both understood the meaning of their sounds. Heavy breaths and moans echoed through their cavernous room out to the sea.

With their sandy clothes lost somewhere on their bedroom floor, their fervent passion led them to the large bed. Though the soft hum of the ceiling fan whirled above their naked bodies, the heat they felt couldn’t be cooled. Claire’s lips suckled his broad shoulder as his skillful hands roamed the familiar and new curves of her figure. His touch stirred her desires, making her plead for more.

Though faint moonlight cloaked the room in shadows, Tony could see Claire’s sleeping mask on her bedside stand. It was black satin, and helped to keep the morning sunlight away while she slept. Reaching for the mask, Tony held it in Claire’s line of vision and asked, “Do you trust me?”

Seeing the mask and his devilish grin, Claire’s heart began to beat erratically. Yes, she put the mask on herself before she fell asleep; however, it was never something they’d done for fun. Her mind raced back to a room with a lock that beeped. There was a time—long ago, in the beginning—when there were blindfolds and restraints, but she never considered any of that fun. “No,” her small hands pushed against his chest. “No!” She wasn’t seeing the man on top of her—she was seeing the man from those memories. “I don’t want to wear that—please—please don’t make me.”

Perhaps he made a sound; Claire wasn’t sure. Something made her eyes open, and suddenly, she saw the man who was truly there. In his eyes she again saw pain. “Oh, Tony”—her arms surrounded his neck—“I do trust you. I just don’t want to wear that.” Her heart broke as he nodded and rolled off of her, onto his pillow. Lifting her head to look at him, Claire started to apologize, but before she could speak, he placed his finger on her lips.

Never could she have predicted her ex-husband’s next move. Claire Nichols would never have imagined Anthony Rawlings placing such a high bet as to wager himself, yet that’s what he did. Lifting his head to gently kiss her lips, he whispered, “I trust you.” Then he covered his own eyes with her satin mask. As absurd as he looked with the black satin ruffles around the sides, she’d never been so honored. He was hers! That was what he’d tried to tell her on the beach. Yes, the whole idea of him watching her over the years was creepy, but that wasn’t what he’d tried to convey. Seeing him lay still with his eyes blinded to her every move, Claire understood—she had him—his heart—his soul—and his body. They were hers to do with what she wanted.

Easing herself to her knees, she allowed her lips to brush his neck. His growls encouraged and the stubbles abraded. Claire loved every sensation and every minute. Next, she moved to his chest where her hands caressed his muscles as her fingers wove through his chest hair. When she licked and sucked a nipple, his arms encircled her.

Within this new paradigm, Claire was empowered. Sitting up, she pushed his arms back to the mattress and said, “No.” His grin from below the satin melted her. She was afraid she wouldn’t be able to do all the things she imagined; her body was on a precipice, and at any moment, she’d be lost in earthshaking bliss.

It wasn’t like anything they’d ever experienced, nor was it how Claire always wanted it to be; nevertheless, on this one night—it was perfect. After Claire’s world exploded and Tony’s did too, she collapsed against his chest and fought to breathe. Finally, she lifted her head and removed the satin blindfold. The spark within the chocolate bliss made her reconsider her desire for sleep.

Tony’s grin infiltrated his words, “Since you removed the blindfold, does that mean I can now hold you?”

“Oh yes, Mr. Rawlings, please do.”