Page 36 of Ebbing Tides
Luck had seldom knocked on my door, but tonight, it called me by name.
“Be sorry for me tomorrow,” I said, dropping my hands to the tie at her waist.
She worked at my jeans button and zipper as she asked, “Will you still want this tomorrow?”
“I have wanted this forever,” I replied, undoing the knot and holding either end of the string in my hands. “I'm not going to stop when the sun rises.”
Melanie's teeth dragged over her bottom lip as her gaze flitted across my face. What was she seeing? Was she remembering what I had looked like as a younger man? Smooth face and less wrinkled. Was she noticing the hairline that was more noticeably receding or the white that had peppered my facial hair years back but was new to her now? Hell, it was all new, wasn't it? It was easy to forget that we'd only spent a mere few hours together years ago when it felt like so much more. God, even now, standing between her open legs, I felt so much more familiar with her in a handful of hours than I had with most people in days, weeks, or even years. Shit, there were men and women I'd served with for years who never stopped feeling like strangers, but Melanie …
I knew her in ways I could only describe as a familiarity of the soul, and I wondered if she'd deny it if I asked.
But I didn't have the chance because just then, without speaking another word, she smoothed her hands over my chest, opening my shirt, and leaned forward to replace her hands with her lips, just above my heart. I closed my eyes as her fingers carefully undid my jeans.
This is it, I thought,the point of no return.
And I held back a chuckle, thinking about all the years that had passed since Laura had died and Sid would ask with reluctance if I'd ever thought of dating, if I was lonely, if I was at all desperate … even in the biblical sense. And I always saidno,always told him I was just fine, being alone—and that had been the truth. It wasstillthe truth—for everyone else but her, this woman with me now. She was the only person who could pull me from this self-appointed prison, and maybe it was dramatic, but I believed she was the only person who ever would.
Her hands laid against my waist and pushed both my jeans and boxer briefs over my hips. The air, warm enough but cool to my recently unclothed skin. Then her hands, warm and soft, wrapped around the length of my erection, and, fuck, it pulsed with tumultuous need. Her fingers traveled, exploring as if she wasn't sure of herself or this moment.
God, I hoped she didn't regret what we were doing.
If she put a stop to it, I would comply, but I hoped she didn't. She felt too good, and it had been a long time since I'd felt anything close to good. Embarrassingly so. I had to bite the inside of my cheek, terrified that her simple ministrations and exploration would be enough to send me over the edge. Like a child.
Then she stopped, and I exhaled with relief, eager to take the moment to reel myself back with thoughts of my father, Sid's reoccurring foot fungus during our time overseas, and every other undesirable thing I'd ever had touch my psyche.
Mom.
No, not that. Anything but—
Oh fuck.
Soft and delicious heat engulfed my dick as Melanie's mouth pulled me in. There was nothing cautious about it. Nothing tentative or apprehensive. Brazen and wonderful. I laid one hand over my closed eyes as the other hovered over the backof her head, unsure of what to do. What she'dwantme to do. Whether this moment was for us both or simply for her to test the proverbial waters of coitus with another man, anewman.
“Fuck,” I uttered, pitiful and weak, as my legs shook and threatened to buckle beneath me.
Melanie answered with a satisfied hum.
She pulled away and left me, and I longed for the wet heat of her mouth. I opened my eyes, afraid to find regret hidden somewhere in hers, but instead, I found her shimmying from her sweatpants with urgent haste. Determination creased the lines along her forehead, and I questioned whether this moment was for our past selves or the future her.
She stood naked before me, and I stared, tipping my head with the disbelief that she could be here at all. Her thighs pressed together, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth. Her hands laid in her lap, her fingers flicking at chipped nail polish. This storm she'd brought to my office, my life … it was like the waves tearing along the shoreline. Strong at times, forceful and true. But in these moments, when the tide was out and the water was settled, her gentle nature exposed the truth of what burrowed beneath her skin. Revealing the timid, scared girl inside her heart and soul.
I laid a hand against her cheek, stepping forward, nudging her knees apart with the breadth of my hips. She didn't resist, and I breathed out with relief. She stared ahead at my chest, pulling her hands from her lap to lay them over my tattoos, faded with time. A hushed laugh sniffed through her nose as one side of her mouth quirked into a tentative smile.
“I can't believe you're you,” she said as I aligned our hips. “God, I'm so … scared, but I'm so glad you're you.”
With a finger beneath her chin, I tipped her lips toward mine and reminded her in a whisper, “We don't have to do this.”
She smiled then, and, oh, it was sad, but it was real, and maybe that was what I loved the most about it.
“Yes, I do,” she replied.
Then, before I could touch on thatI, notwe, she thrust her lips upward against mine and wrapped her legs around my hips.
It was a moment of pathetic adolescence when I gasped, nudging inside her for the first time. That inch was glorious, fireworks exploding behind my eyelids as every nerve ending unfurled and tickled gloriously beneath my skin. And that euphoric desire only enhanced with every centimeter that followed until my body was fully sheathed within hers.
“Oh my God,” Melanie uttered on a held breath, her lips dangling from mine.
I nodded, opening my eyes. “Yeah,” was all I could say, hushed against the whistling wind just beyond the windows.
