World Enough and Time (26 page)

“Enjoy the game?” he asked after the waitress had taken our order.

“Of course I did,” I said. “Even if
someone
kept trying to distract me.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Trying?”

“Okay, even if someone kept distracting me.”

He laid his hand over mine on the table and lowered his voice. “Something tells me you enjoyed the distractions as much as the game.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining about it, either.” I ran my thumb alongside his hand.

“No, absolutely not.” He clasped my hand in both of his and lifted my fingers to his lips. “But when we get back to our room, you can make it up to me.”

“Or you could make it up to me.”

He grinned. “We could always meet in the middle.”

“Compromise. I like that.”

A few minutes later, our food arrived, and we continued chatting and bantering while we ate. About the time we’d finished eating, the restaurant was starting to get crowded, so we opted for a quick exit rather than taking up a table while other people were waiting.

It was still early and we weren’t quite ready to call it a night, so we wandered down The Embarcadero in search of the perfect place to watch the sun go down over the bay.

The sidewalks were still thickly packed with tourists, but we just wove our way through them, lost in our own conversation. We didn’t raise our voices above the noise around us. Everything else—voices, cars, sea lions, waves hitting pylons—disappeared into the background and all I could hear was Connor. Hand in hand we walked together like a couple who had no reason to believe we’d ever walk alone again.

A few blocks away from the restaurant, we found a dock that was mostly deserted, and there we stopped.

The sun inched closer to the water, staining the sky with varying shades of purple and orange. In the distance, the Golden Gate Bridge etched a series of swooping curves and rigid lines just above the horizon. Though it was summertime, the wind off the bay was cool, giving the air just enough of a chill to create the perfect excuse for Connor to put his arms around my waist. Standing behind me, he kissed my cheek while we watched the day fade into the west.

“
The largest fire ever known, occurs each afternoon
—” he whispered against the side of my neck. “
Discovered is without surprise, proceeds without concern, consumes and no report to men, an Occidental Town, rebuilt another morning, to be burned down again
.”

“And which poet is that?”

“Dickinson,” he murmured. “Not my favorite poet, but I always liked that particular poem.” As the sun kissed the water, Connor nuzzled my neck. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“So am I.”

He gently turned me around to face him. “I’ve been looking forward to it all week.” Tucking a windswept lock of hair behind my ear, he added, “I just can’t believe you finally got here.”

I smiled. “It was only a week.”

“Not even that long,” he said. “But I’ve still been going out of my mind.”

“Me too.” Just needing to touch him, I put my hands on his chest. “I’m here now, though.”

He touched my face and for a moment, just looked at me. Then, without a word, his fingers moved into my hair and he leaned in to kiss me. My hands slid around his neck and I returned his gentle kiss.

There was nothing but tenderness in the way our lips moved together. We weren’t trying to turn each other on, though we did. We weren’t suggesting more to come, though it would. For now, we simply were.

I don’t know how much time passed, but when our eyes met again, the sun had set and darkness had fallen.

The pad of his thumb across my cheekbone.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, too.”

And he kissed me again.

*              *              *

Like the first time we crossed this threshold together, we stumbled on our way into the hotel room, but this time we didn’t fall. Shoes came off and were kicked safely out of the way. His shirt landed on top of mine at our feet. Fingers tangled in hair and breath mingled between lips.

There was urgency in every move we made to get from clothing to skin, but not our usual hungry desperation. This went above and beyond that. It wasn’t a pursuit of physical release, just the need to simply get as close to each other as possible.

Half-dressed, we sank together onto the bed. Lying on his back with me on top, Connor tried to unfasten my bra. Couldn’t. Tried again. Still couldn’t. I reached back to do it, but it was too complicated for me too. That, and it meant taking my hands off him. Though it annoyed me, this strip of fabric dividing us, it bothered me less than even a second without his skin beneath my hands.

Instead, I leaned down and kissed him again. How long we held each other like that, simply breathing and tasting each other, I couldn’t say. Time just didn’t matter.

He broke the kiss and looked up at me, touching my face just as he had after we’d kissed away the sunset. His eyes reminded me of the moment they met mine right after he’d taken my blindfold off. When I’d realized, without a doubt, that I was in love with him.

Looking at him now, I needed to be closer to him.

Without a word, we moved apart to get the last of our clothes off. His jeans thumped onto the floor in a heap, followed by mine, and a second later, my bra landed on top.

When I rejoined him on the bed, he tried to roll me onto my back, but I resisted, pushing him back instead. I sat over him and he pressed his cock against me. His breath caught when I pushed back.

He tangled his fingers in my hair when I kissed his neck. Beside my lips, his Adam’s apple bobbed slightly and a nearly inaudible moan vibrated against my mouth.

He exhaled hard and ran his fingers through my hair while I trailed light kisses down his neck and over his collarbone. Gently holding his nipple in my teeth, I alternated between lightly teasing with my tongue and sucking just hard enough to make him squirm.

Continuing down his chest, I taunted his senses with light kisses, flicks of my tongue, occasionally blowing cool air on damp skin. Every time his muscles quivered or his breathing changed, I wanted him that much more. Time and again we’d made love, we’d fucked, we’d tasted each other, we’d breathed each other, and I just couldn’t get enough.

Closing my lips around his cock, I couldn’t decide if the moan I felt was his or mine. Possibly both. Didn’t matter. Just wanted him. I teased him with a gentle hand and a slow mouth, seeking only to turn him on, not to make him come just yet. The salt of his skin and the pulsing against my tongue gave me goose bumps just like it always did. Fingers in my hair and moans from his lips told me every time I did something right, and the more aroused he was, the more aroused I became.

Every sound, every tremor, every taste of his skin drove me on. The more I gave him, the more he gave back in the form of moans and tremors. My jaw ached, but it was nothing compared to the other ache that intensified as I sent him closer. Hearing and feeling him like this aroused me so much my eyes watered. The further he went out of his mind, the more I needed him. Much more of this and I’d come before he did.

His hand tightened in my hair. At first, I thought he was simply responding to what I was doing, but the moan that followed was as much a plea as a sound of arousal. When I looked up at him, he met my eyes, and though he didn’t speak, I knew what he wanted.

Pushing myself up on shaking arms, I came up to kiss him. He met me halfway, nearly knocking me off balance with the tender desperation in his kiss and the unsteadiness in his grasp.

My equilibrium shifted and Connor guided me onto my back. As soon as my skin touched the bedcovers, he moved down, gently pushing my thighs apart. Before his lips even touched my pussy, the blanket was bunched in my clawing fingers, and as soon as his tongue met my clit, breathing was nearly impossible.

His mouth moved just as slowly as our bodies had since we’d come through the door. With languid, restrained movements, his tongue found that sweet spot, that perfect combination of circles and flutters. So slow, so gentle, that even while the tension built inside me, while the delicious electricity rose until it was on the verge of way too much, my orgasm caught me by surprise.

One heartbeat, I was holding my breath.

The next, I was crying out his name and surrendering to blissful delirium.

Before I’d even returned to this side of sanity, Connor was over me. Over me, against me, inside me. The perfect percussion of his cock against my G-spot and his body against my clit kept my orgasm from tapering completely. It peaked and fell, but didn’t die. Instead, it lingered as a steady pulse just beneath the surface, lying dormant yet still intensifying with every deep, powerful thrust.

I rolled my hips in time with his, and our bodies fell into a perfect rhythm, moving together just as they had the first time and every time thereafter. We found each other’s mouths, but kissing was nearly impossible. Our lips touched, but neither moved except to take and release breath, panting against each other’s mouths.

Connor shuddered. Tightened his grasp on my shoulders. Released a breath across my chin. Thrust deeper, harder.

“Oh God, Dani,” he moaned. “Oh God, I’m so…” Another shiver drove him deeper, drove a whimper from my lips.

The dormant remnants of my last orgasm flared to life, the tension inside me building to that delicious breaking point, ready, on the edge, gunpowder awaiting a spark.

I pulled in a breath. As if I’d breathed him right to my lips, Connor kissed me. Deeply, desperately, perfectly.

Spark touched powder.

I held his shoulders for dear life.

And I saw stars.

Chapter Thirty-One

Breathless and sweating, we collapsed together. Aftershocks from my second orgasm still rippled through me, and Connor’s hand trembled when he ran his fingers through my hair. For the longest time, we simply held each other in silence.

This blissful afterglow seemed a fitting end to a day like today. It seemed a fitting end to this entire weekend. But I was growing to hate these fitting ends because they all conspired to push us closer to the one thing I kept fighting to ignore: August. Like the days growing shorter as summer moved into fall, every day we spent together seemed shorter than the last.

I tried to push it out of my mind. Lying with him like this was entirely too perfect to spoil with thoughts of the end. That could be dwelled upon when its time came. For now, I indulged in enjoying all the minute things: The warmth of his body beneath the covers with mine. The slow, even rhythm of his breathing. The heady, lingering scent of sex.

I turned on my side and faced him. “I don’t know what it is you do with your tongue,” I slurred. “but it’s absolutely amazing.”

He smiled and shifted onto his side, facing me. “It’s nothing exotic. Just have to find the right letter.”

“Letter?” I raised my eyebrows. “What do—” I thought about the ever-changing patterns he drew with the tip of his tongue. Lines, curves, swirls. Letters. I laughed. “Ever the linguist, aren’t you?”

“Ever the
cunning
linguist.” He chuckled.

“Isn’t that
Master
cunning linguist, now?”

“So it is.” He kissed me lightly. “And don’t you forget it.”

“Keep doing what you do with your tongue,” I said. “and I won’t, don’t worry.”

“Then I will. Just to keep you from forgetting, of course.” He smiled and stroked my hair. “Come on, you’ve never heard of that?”

“I can’t say I have.”
Can’t say I’ve been with someone willing to put forth the effort
. “But I like it.”

Trailing his fingertips down my upper arm, he said, “So I noticed.”

“So just what is my letter?”

He grinned. “Depends on the night. Some nights, you’re a ‘K’ or an ‘M’. Sometimes you’re an ‘E’.”

I ran my fingers across his chest. “And tonight?”

“Tonight, you were a ‘G’,” he said. “But I usually go through the alphabet at least once, just to drive you crazy.”

“It works,” I laughed. “Jesus, does it ever. I don’t suppose you know the Chinese alphabet, do you?”

“Afraid not,” he said. “But if I wanted to learn it, would you let me practice on you?”

I leaned forward and kissed him. “As if you need to ask.”

“Maybe I’ll have to sign up for a Chinese class, then.” We both laughed, but the humor quickly faded and we avoided each other’s eyes.

There it was again. Unspoken, but unavoidable. Just a playful comment about a hypothetical class brought it right to the surface. Even if he did want to take a Chinese class, it didn’t make a whit of difference as far as we were concerned because we were running out of time.

Some unspoken thought pulled his eyebrows together and tightened his lips into a thin line. His Adam’s apple bobbed and he watched his fingers play with a lock of my hair.

I touched his face, which drew his attention to my eyes. There was something going on inside that mind of his, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

“You’re thinking something.” Though I barely whispered, my voice seemed to echo between the four walls of the room that was still ours for a few precious hours.

He smiled half-heartedly. “Can’t hide anything from you, can I?”

“Guess not.” Knowing there really was something on his mind did nothing to settle uneasy nerves.

Connor took a breath and propped himself up on one elbow. “Let me ask you something.”

I swallowed. “Okay.” My stomach fluttered. I had no idea where this conversation was going.

He bit his lip, and the longer he hesitated, the more nervous I became. Then I realized his smile wasn’t half-hearted at all. It was nervous. Shy, even.

Taking another breath, he said, “Would you consider coming to California with me?”

“Connor, I
am
in California with you.” I knew full well what he meant, but the lighthearted joke gave me a chance to laugh, which kept me breathing.

He chuckled, his cheeks coloring a little. “Right, right.” When he cleared his throat, his expression turned more serious. “I mean, would you consider moving down here with me?”