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He’d imagined this for years. Holly had figured so regularly in his nighttime fantasies, especially after the night of her prom, that he’d told himself that the real woman couldn’t possibly live up to them.
But she did.
She was everything he had imagined—and more.
The curve of her hip, the length of her legs, the small pert mounds of her breasts, the triangle of curls that hid her mysteries all enticed him. He wanted to explore them all. First the soft smoothness of her skin drew his touch. He ran a hand over her from her shoulder over her hip, down her leg to her toes. He bent her leg, ignored the tantalizing hint of mystery that bending her knee uncovered, and instead kissed her toes.
“Lukas!”
“Mmm.” He kissed them one by one, then let his fingers walk up her instep, trace her right ankle, then her left. Then he walked his fingers up her calves again to trace the backs of her knees, the exquisite softness of the insides of her thighs—torturing himself with anticipation. Wait, he told himself. Wait.
His thumbs brushed lightly against the curls where her thighs joined. Holly bit her lip, held perfectly still. She’d held still the night on his father’s boat, too. She’d gripped his shoulders so hard she’d left tiny bruises that he’d cherished long after they had disappeared. And she’d let him touch her. He touched her now. More deeply. Slid a finger through folds that were wet. For him.
“Lukas!” Holly’s voice was urgent.
“Mmm?” He breathed on her there.
“There is slow and then there is slow!” She sounded somewhere between lust and laughter.
Lukas laughed raggedly, then kissed her, touched his tongue to her. There.
She jerked. Her knees pressed against his ears. “You are driving me insane!”
“I know.” He was driving himself insane, too.
“How would you like it if I did that to you?”
He groaned. “Do you think I’d tell you to stop?”
“Excellent.” Abruptly Holly sat up and looped her fingers over the waistband of his jeans.
Lukas started to do it himself, but she batted his hands away. “My turn.”
“Hol’—”
“We’re going slow,” she reminded him, all seriousness, then slanted him a wicked smile. “You’ll love it.”
She was going to kill him. He made a noise deep in his throat. But he knelt back on his heels stoically, watching as Holly came up on her knees before him in all her naked glory and slowly—inch by inch—no, centimeter by centimeter, slid the jeans down his hips, then coaxed him up off his heels to pull them off, to run her hands over him, taking her own sweet time.
He groaned, then gritted his teeth as she found him again and clasped him in both her hands, stroked him. His hips bucked. “Holly!”
She smiled. “Exactly.”
Then she put a hand against his chest and pushed him back against the mattress. He reached for her, to pull her down on top of him. But she twisted away, moved to the end of the bed, bent her head, kissed his toes.
Lukas’s fingers knotted around the sheet. “For God’s sake!”
“See what I mean?” Holly looked up brightly with another of those maddening smiles. She slid between his legs, and he reached for her to lift her and settle her against him where he needed her most. If he didn’t get her there soon—like, in an instant—it would be too late. Her merest touch would send him right over the edge. If she reached out a finger and touched him now, it would be all over.
“Wait, I thought you said—” Holly began, grinning at him.
But Lukas wasn’t waiting any longer. “Enough waiting.” He pulled her close, then rolled her back onto the bed and pressed his body against hers. He couldn’t hold back, couldn’t pace himself. Not now.
Holly didn’t resist. She wrapped her arms and legs around him and opened to his kiss, to his need. She met him kiss for kiss, move for move, fitting her body, tight and hot and slick, to his, welcoming him in.
It was heaven. The years, the days, the minutes of tortured anticipation were over and even though Lukas did his best to make it last, he couldn’t fight his need any longer. He slid into her, a single hard thrust, and she met him, digging her fingernails into his back as she arched against him. They shattered together.
And, as Lukas had known it would be, it was good.
* * *
The morning after.
Holly woke thinking those very words, and trying to articulate what had happened so she could put it in a box she would call My Affair with Lukas and then, in slightly less than six weeks’ time, could close firmly and stick on a shelf at the back of her mind.
