Sam pulled her sweater over her head and tossed it in the direction of the couch. She stared at him for one long questioning moment, then slipped her hands under the hem of his shirt and helped him off with it. They stood silently then, their breath rising like the steam from a sauna. There was a chance to change her mind. She knew she should take it.
But Sam was looking at her breasts, worshiping them with his eyes, as his hands slowly crept up from her waist until his thumbs caressed the skin above her bra. She wanted it off—and quickly, but Sam was toying with her bra, running his fingers along the top and then down through the valley of her breasts, playing with the tiny clip that would set her free.
She took in a breath and let it out. He heard her and smiled. His finger flipped the snap and the material came apart. The air hit her breasts like an air conditioner until Sam's hands covered them with his heat, with his desire, with his need. His hands weren't enough. She wanted his mouth, his lips, his tongue.
And then he was there the way she remembered, better than she remembered, drawing her nipple between his teeth until she felt an ache that went straight to the heart of her. Her legs started trembling, and she thought she might fall, but Sam held her steady as he lifted his head from her breasts and looked at her.
He put his hand on the snap of her jeans and opened it. He pushed down the zipper and her pants quickly followed, leaving her standing in a pair of emerald-green silk panties. His hand swept across the silk, caressing her heat, feeling the dampness that told him how much she wanted him.
"I think you should take these off," he said.
She swallowed hard. "And you should take these off." She repeated his motion, opening his jeans, sliding her hands down to the top of his thighs as he kicked them off.
And they stood there again, a second pause, a moment to stop. But how could she stop? How could he?
"Alli," he said huskily, his face barely visible in the shadows, only the light of desire in his eyes showing her the way home.
"Yes," she said, the simple word being cut off by the descent of Sam's mouth on hers, the sudden slide of her panties down the back of her legs, Sam's hands cupping her buttocks, rubbing them, kneading them, each movement getting more frantic. When he moved away from her, she wanted to cry out to him to come back. But he'd dropped to his knees, pulling her panties down to the floor, as he pressed his lips to her belly button, her abdomen, the tight copper curls that graced the apex of her thighs.
She shuddered, reaching for him, but only managing to latch her fingers on to his hair as he began to kiss her there, forcing her thighs apart with his shoulders as he loved her with his mouth until her knees began to tremble and she gasped his name.
The next thing she knew she was lying on the couch while Sam was wrestling with his jeans.
"What are you doing?"
He pulled out a foil packet and quickly ripped it open, sliding the condom on before she could say a word. The familiar action registered like a harsh note in their love song, for even now in the heat of the storm, he couldn't forget about protection. But she couldn't summon up enough strength to protest, not when her body was already on fire, not when he was pressing her back against the cushions and entering her with an aching slowness and completeness that made her heart ache all the while her body sang in joy.
She closed her eyes, feeling him with every fiber of her being, knowing that she would love this man forever, no matter what she told herself or what she told him. With Sam inside her, on top of her, surrounding her, she soared as high as a kite, as free as the breeze, as powerful as the sea. She felt each and every emotion as she matched his rhythm with her own, for in this moment they were in perfect accord, peaking at exactly the same time, collapsing together breathlessly as they came down the other side of the wave.#p#分页标题#e#
Tears blurred her eyes, and she wondered if this would be the last time she would hold him, the last time she would feel his body inside hers. She didn't want to let him go now, her hands clasped tightly behind his back.
"I'm too heavy," he said.
"Sh-sh," she said. "Not yet."
He stayed with her for another minute, then rolled off her, the air between them covering her with an icy chill. She sat up on the couch as Sam handed her her clothes. She didn't put them on right away, just watched him get dressed from the dark shadows of the couch.
"It's cold," he said, turning to her. "You should put something on."
"It wasn't cold a minute ago."
Sam sat down on the couch next to her and put his arm around her shoulders. He pulled her to his chest, which was now covered by his T-shirt, she thought with disappointment. But still she rested her face against his shoulder and took a deep breath of him, evoking the scent to memory. She never wanted to forget the way he smelled, the way he tasted, the way he felt.