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Riff’s thumb teased across my clit, making my body jolt at the sensation as a whimper escaped me.
Spurred on by my reaction, his thumb did another swipe. Then another.
It wasn’t long before the need was growing, weeks of closeness and barely-contained desire reached a fever-pitch, leaving me writhing against his touch, my whimpers becoming moans.
Riff’s free hand reached for mine, fingers lacing as he drove me right to that edge, then pushed me over, leaving me falling, then crashing into an orgasm that had me crying out as my body tensed, as my back arched, as my hand clung to Riff’s.
A slight tremble worked through my body as I came back down.
“You okay?” Riff asked, voice soft, his hand still between my legs but gently resting on my inner thigh.
I worried that the memories might flood back.
But when all there was in my mind and heart was the pleasure of this moment, of this connection with a man I was really beginning to love, I shot him a smile.
“Yes,” I said, sitting up out of the water, so I could seal my lips to his, kissing him with all of the joy and relief I felt flooding my body right then.
Riff’s arms went around me, hauling my soaked body against him, soaking through his shirt as his lips pressed the kiss a little harder, his own hunger clear in his kiss.
But he was the one to pull away first.
No pressure.
“Did you… were you going to take a shower?” I asked as his fingers pressed my wet hair behind my ears.
“That was the plan,” he agreed.
“I’m done,” I told him, pulling away, sinking into the water for a second to press the drain, then taking his hands when he offered them to me, and getting to my feet.
Riff reached for a towel, but he paused in wrapping me up, his gaze sliding down my body.
I looked different now.
Thanks to Detroit’s cooking, and the endless supply of takeout and snacks Riff was always bringing to me, you could no longer see the outline of my bones. They were safely protected by a decent layer of flesh now, rounding me out. Just in a slightly different shape than I’d even been before. A little fuller in the chest and hip and thigh.
I’d always been hyperaware of my body before, ready to go on a quick crash diet if I felt like I was gaining too much weight, my clothes starting to get uncomfortably tight.
Now, though, I didn’t view my body the same way. I wasn’t seeing it through the lens of anyone’s preferences but mine. And what I preferred was proof of being well-nourished and healthy, of never having to miss a meal again.
“You’re so beautiful,” Riff said, his words a soft caress over my skin as he wrapped the towel around me, pulling it tight, and tucking it up by my chest.
I climbed out of the bath, making my way toward the counter to dry my hair with the extra towel, then running a brush through it as Riff reached for the wand in the tub, washing the traces of my soap and bath bombs off the walls of the tub.
“I’ll be done in a second,” I told him as I rubbed some lotion on my arms.
“You can stay if you want,” he said as he reached up behind his back, and pulled the shirt over his head, then tossed the shirt toward the hamper.
It didn’t matter how many times I’d seen him with his shirt off. I was always greedy to see him again. So I didn’t even try to hide the way my gaze moved over his chest and stomach.
His muscles were even more taut than usual, thanks to the killer workout Detroit had put him through.
As my gaze slid to the waistband of his basketball pants, his hands moved there as well, pausing, waiting to see if I wanted to take this chance to retreat.
But I found myself transfixed, anticipation skittering across my nerve endings.
Seeing no signs of hesitance, Riff grabbed the waistbands of his pants and underwear, and pushed them down his legs.
His cock was hard, pressing out thick and long, and I was surprised by the way my sex clenched hard.
