He took her hand and led her to his bedroom. Idly, she noted that the bedding looked great on the new bed—they’d chosen well—and that even in the short time that he’d inhabited this space, it was his. There was more of his art on the walls, and no doubt his clothes were already neatly folded in the drawers.
He moved toward her, took the champagne glass out of her hand, and put it on the nightstand, where it made a tiny click. He put his own glass beside it.
She breathed deeply. This was it. This was what she’d been waiting for since the moment she’d first laid eyes on him.
He pulled her in for another soul-searing kiss, his hands roaming over her hips, grazing her lower back. At the end of it, she was completely breathless. Every part of her tingled. He kissed her again, and she couldn’t help herself. She ran her hands through his hair, over those gorgeous, muscular shoulders, down his back. She felt him hard against her chest, and every part of her began to melt and turn to liquid. She moved instinctually, her hips beginning to dance, and then she heard him groan. And now his hands found the rest of her, fingertips tracing circles up her back and over her shoulders, down her sides, and without any problem at all, he released the two bows at her shoulders and let her dress slide to the floor.
Then he stood back and gazed at her in her barely-there scraps of lace and said in a voice she’d never heard from him before, “I knew you’d be gorgeous, but I had no idea.”
Then she reached forward, pulled his polo shirt out of his trousers, and yanked it up. He helped her, pulling it over his head so the Saint Christopher’s medal caught slightly at the neck and then settled itself against his muscular chest. Before she could get to his belt, he was already divesting himself of his jeans, and then wearing nothing but a pair of navy boxer shorts, he came back to her and reached around for the clasp of her bra. The wisp of lace fell to the floor, and he dropped to his knees in front of her and slowly slipped her panties off and down her legs. She was trembling all over. Her legs could barely support her.
And then he kissed her. There. He gave her a little push so she fell back on the bed. He climbed up with her and parted her thighs. He made magic on her with his tongue. She climaxed so fast she barely saw it coming, her hips riding up as the wave took her.
While the aftershocks were still shaking her, she cried, “I need you in me, now!”
For a man who was usually so methodical and so in control, he didn’t need to be asked twice. He had his boxers off in a second, and that glorious body was moving up the bed. He reached for the bedside drawer, and she was happy to know that he had enough sense to think about protection. He sheathed himself with slightly trembling hands, and then he was kissing her, hard and commanding. It was a side of Herschel she’d never seen before, hadn’t imagined he even possessed. And it was totally erotic. She wrapped her legs around him, and grabbing his hard, toned butt, she pulled him into her even as she thrust her hips up.
It was like nothing she’d ever experienced before. Afterward, she couldn’t have said why. She’d been with plenty of men. But there was something about Herschel that was just different. They connected on every level. He thrust like a man who knew exactly what he was doing and understood a woman’s body. She clung to him, actually struggling to keep up. Meanwhile, he kissed her, and she tasted her own pleasure on his lips, and then he grabbed her hands, putting them above her head, and they clung to each other as she climbed toward her pleasure yet again. For once, she was trying to hold herself back, but she couldn’t. She cried out, and as she did, she heard him roar along with her.
She felt as though she was spiraling out of control, and it was ages before she could catch her breath. He rolled off her and lay beside her, also struggling to catch his. After a while, he turned and tenderly kissed her shoulder.
In a husky voice, he said, “Usually, I’m a little more smooth and like to take my time. But I couldn’t stop myself. I had to have you.” He reached over and kissed the tip of her breast. “I should have taken more time with you and caressed your gorgeous breasts and all the other bits of you. But I was like a horny teenager.”
Although she felt all warm and languid, she was so surprised that she laughed. “In case you didn’t notice, I am plenty satisfied.”
“But it was so quick,” he complained. “I wanted to stretch it out and make our first time last.”
She turned over and propped herself on one elbow. She loved how serious he was, even about sex. “I’ll tell you what. You can stretch out the second time as long as you want. But I think we both needed that one to be hard and fast and glorious.”
His eyes twinkled at her. “Glorious?”
“Are you fishing for a compliment?”
He looked slightly bashful. “Well, a man likes to think he’s made a woman happy.”
“Glorious,” she repeated quite firmly. “And you have made me so happy, I’m going to let you do that again.”
He didn’t need a second invitation. This time, he took plenty of time to caress her and kiss her breasts and her belly. He discovered the ticklish spot just beneath her earlobe and that if he kissed the soft skin on her inner wrist, she’d sigh.
In turn, she took her time exploring him, all those hard planes and ridges, and when they couldn’t stand it anymore, she flipped him onto his back and rode him until, once more, they both cried out together.
When he came back to himself she looked right down into his eyes and smiled at him, knowing somehow he’d never again say to her this could never be anything serious.
This might not be long-term, but it was very serious.
* * *
Hersch gazed up at Mila and saw her smiling down at him with her sea witch’s eyes. And she was a sea witch, he realized, because she had spun some kind of spell around him that seemed to have captured his heart. He thought, I could fall in love with this woman, and that scared him more than anything, because he was so determined never to put someone he loved through the worry of losing him or the grief if he died.
But the sex had been mind-blowing. He’d never known a woman so utterly open and responsive. They’d made love twice, and he wanted her as badly now as he had when she’d first walked in the door in that sexy dress that hugged all her curves. Now he’d seen all of her, and their time together was better than he could have imagined. She wasn’t a slight, delicate woman whom he was frightened he might hurt. She was strong, resilient—a woman who could give as well as she took, and he loved that about her.
Still sitting on top of him so he had a view of her glorious breasts, she said, “When I first met you, I thought you were kind of nerdy. But wow, do you know your way around a woman.”
She surprised an embarrassed chuckle out of him, but he was also quite pleased. She was so open and frank. He’d never been one to talk about his emotions, and he wasn’t ready to now, but he had them.
At some point he was going to have to face what this woman had done to him.
But not quite yet.
Instead, he piled pillows behind them and reached for a champagne glass while she scooched up so they were both sitting propped against the pillows. He passed her champagne and tapped his glass against hers again. The glasses were now only half full, but the bubbles were valiantly still racing up and down through the liquid.
“We’ve warmed my house, and we’ve warmed my new bed. And I’m pretty happy with both.”
“I’m going to echo what you said earlier. To new beginnings.”
They both sipped. And then, very deliberately, holding his gaze, she sipped champagne and held it in her mouth, then leaned over and sucked one of his nipples between her lips. He felt the bubbles of the champagne and the coldness, and then the warmth of her tongue licking at him, and amazingly he was rock hard again. He wouldn’t have thought he’d had enough time to recover, but his sea witch could do anything to him. This time, it was she who took the glass out of his hand and put it on the bedside table along with hers, and then she proceeded to love him with her mouth until he couldn’t stand it anymore, and he flipped her onto her back and regained control.
They might have gone on like that all night, but at some point somebody’s stomach grumbled. He thought it might have been his. He looked up at her. “Are you hungry?”
“Starving,” she admitted.
And so they got up, and instead of putting her dress on, she snuggled into his navy blue robe that had been hanging on the back of the door. He loved how she looked in it. It hung almost to her ankles, and she had to roll up the sleeves. He picked up his jeans and slipped into them, and then they went downstairs to the kitchen.
Herschel opened the fridge, and Mila remarked on the bounty within. He glanced at her. “My specialty is omelets. How do you feel about an omelet?”
“Sounds perfect.”
She topped up their champagne and sat at his kitchen island, watching as he methodically and expertly washed his hands as though preparing for surgery, then chopped mushrooms, peppers, ham, and grated cheese, checking with her each time to see if she approved of the ingredients, all of which she did. When he opened cupboards to get down dishes, she said, “Have you already rearranged the cupboards? They look way more precise.”
He nodded. “Of course. I didn’t find the previous layout as efficient.”
She laughed. “Normally, I would find that super weird, but actually I admire how orderly you are. Maybe because it’s the exact opposite of me.”
When the eggs went into the pan, he lifted the edges and rolled the liquid around just like a sous-chef, so that when they were cooked, they would be fluffy and perfect. While he was doing that, he also managed to slice a fresh avocado, melon, and fresh strawberries so that the final presentation was multicolored and beautiful. He wanted Mila to remember this meal forever, even if it was just an omelet.
When he saw her gazing at him, he was suddenly worried. “What? Did I forget something?”
She got up, walked around the island, and then kissed him. “I have never watched anyone make an omelet so beautifully.”
Now the worry turned to bashfulness. “I like to cook,” he admitted.
“And I like to eat,” she replied.
While they sat side by side, the sides of their legs touching, she asked, “What foods did you miss most when you were in space?”
“Fresh fruit and vegetables, for sure,” he said without a hint of hesitation.
She looked thoughtful. “What do you eat up there, anyway?”
“Packets of freeze-dried stuff. They’re marked beef stroganoff or chicken curry, but really it’s space food. Keeps the body nourished and going, but it’s nothing to write home about.”
She tapped her glass. “I guess there’s no wine.”
He shook his head. “There’s tubes of things like orange juice, but you have to be careful. Because there’s no gravity, if the liquid gets away from you, it floats away.” He got out of his chair and mimed a drop of liquid and him chasing it as though it were a butterfly and his mouth were a net. His reward was Mila’s gorgeous laugh, so carefree and infectious.
He sat and finished the last of his omelet. By the time he looked up at Mila, he sensed her mood had changed.
Licking the last of the melon juice from her lips, she said, “So, you’re good-looking, great in bed, you can cook, and you have a pretty interesting job. Why aren’t you married?”
He felt his face fall, and he knew he’d have to explain. “I sort of got close once, a long time ago, but it didn’t work out. And now I’m glad it didn’t, because I never want to leave someone I love behind when I go into space, knowing I might not come back. I’ve never wanted to leave behind a widow or orphans. My work is too risky. I can’t have a wife and kids and then disappear into the stars one day… and never come home.”
He hoped she’d understand him a bit better now.
Quietly, she said, “Is that why you told me this could never be anything serious? Because you’d be afraid to leave someone you loved behind?”
He nodded solemnly. He hoped that she would know now that it wasn’t about not wanting her permanently in his life. It was that he didn’t feel he could have anyone permanently in his life.
She looked sad and a little baffled too. “But there are all kinds of people who have dangerous jobs in this world. They get married and have families. Cops, firefighters, anybody in the armed forces. Hersch, life is risk. You could have the most boring job in the world—I don’t know, an accountant in a shoe factory—and somebody could fall asleep at the wheel and run you over.”
“You’re right. I know you’re right. But I don’t think I could do it. I think if I had a wife and family that I loved very much, I might have to give up my job.”
She looked stunned. “Why does that have to be your choice?”
“What do you mean?”
“Doesn’t the woman who loves you get a choice in whether she’s willing to take on those risks too?”
He’d never looked at it that way. Could he maybe have a relationship with Mila because she’d lived with risk every day of her professional life as a surfer? She might be one of the few people on the planet who could handle his career.
“How about you?” he asked. “You’re beautiful, funny, an excellent Realtor, great in bed—which maybe I should have said first—and you’re single. What’s your story?”
She pushed her plate away and sipped champagne to give herself a moment. “The truth is, I haven’t truly trusted a man since Travis.”
Herschel reached out and touched her hand, feeling like the biggest klutz in the world. He’d known that Travis had left her after her accident. Of course she felt she couldn’t trust men. “Some men can be trusted. Just saying.”
Her eyes flickered up. “I know. I have a feeling I can trust you, can’t I?”
As always, he tried to give an honest answer. “You can trust me to treat you right and do the right thing, but you can’t trust me not to go off on a dangerous mission and die. I’m sorry to be so blunt, but there it is.”
She bridled a little and retaliated by saying, “And you can trust me to be faithful as long as we’re together, always up for a good time, and if either of us decides it’s time to move on, there won’t be any recriminations or tears. But you cannot stop me from going out on my surfboard whenever I feel like it, no matter how big those waves are, and maybe one day I won’t come back. I like risk. I love that feeling of being in control, but only just, and of always knowing that I can ride the waves, but I can never control them, and they can turn on me at any second and swallow me.”
“Okay,” he said. “We have a deal.”
“We do? What deal?”
“We’ll enjoy each other until one of us can’t do it anymore. How does that sound?”
There was something in her face he couldn’t read, like maybe this should have been the perfect deal, what she always wanted from her lovers, not to feel tied down or constricted in any way, to enjoy each other until one or both of them was done. But now that he was offering it to her, she didn’t want it anymore.
But if that was what she was thinking, she didn’t admit it. She stood instead. “I agree. We have a deal.”
Herschel tried not to laugh as Mila formally held out her hand and shook his while the too-big bathrobe slipped open, exposing the delicious slopes of her breasts. “Deal,” he replied. Then he had no words left. He hiked her into his arms and carried her to bed.
After the initial start of surprise, she laughed and threw her arms around his neck. “I am no featherweight,” she said.
And she wasn’t—she was all muscle, which he loved about her. His reply was to remind her that he worked out. A lot. And then she settled back in his arms and nibbled his earlobe and whispered things in his ear that made him half crazy with desire. By the time he had her back in his bed, it was even wilder than the first few times.
As though there was only limited time, and they had to squeeze every drop of pleasure from every moment.