Sea of Stars(67)

 Trey touches a few buttons on the panel beside us; a compartment lined with glass bottles emerges from a recessed portion of the tile. The bottles look like potions from some long-ago apothecary in different shapes and colors. He selects one of the stout, red bottles, unstopping it and pouring a small portion of it into the palm of his hand. After rubbing his palms together, he gently touches them to my hair, lathering it and working cinnamon-scented soap into each strand. When he’s finished, I twist so that I face him. I rinse my hair by leaning my head back into the water once more.

 Straightening, I gaze at him. Trey’s eyes wander over what he can see of me. I’m the dark secret that he can’t keep hidden—his crossed fingers—his hold-my-breath-to-keep-from-feeling. But I make him feel everything.

 He reaches his hand out; his thumb traces my lower lip. I take it in my mouth, sucking on the pad of his thumb gently. He in turn sucks in a harsh breath. Finding my waist, he pulls me to him. Settling me on his thighs, I straddle his lap. His hands explore my curves, running down my sides, skimming the outline of my breasts.

 Releasing his thumb from my mouth, I lean near him, reaching to take a honey-colored bottle from the ledge near his head. My breasts press against his chest with my cheek brushing the stiff hair on his face. He turns his mouth to kiss my neck. My eyelids flutter closed briefly, and I release a soft “Ahh.” I thread my fingers in his hair to hold him to me. His lips are heaven, making me want him more.

 Opening my eyes, I take the bottle from the shelf. I unstop it, inhaling its scent—sandalwood. I pour some of its syrupy body wash into my hand. Unhurriedly, I run my soapy hands over his hard shoulders and chest. I trace the path of his tribal tattoo as it winds over his ribs and downward. His eyes stalk me, taking in my every movement as he rests his shoulders against the side of the spa. Reaching out, Trey cups my breast, his rough hand sliding gently over it. The love letter he’s writing on my paper heart stutter-stops, and then riots within my chest with scribbling beats.

 He leans forward and captures me in his arms; the water sloshes over the side of the spa. His lips press to my breast. Something within me stretches taut: it winds and coils until it elicits a soft cry from my lips. My head falls forward while I wrap myself around him, a vine of soft skin and golden hair clinging to him.

 “Do you know what you mean to me, Kricket?” Trey asks in a raspy voice, looking up into my face. “You’re my every thought. If you don’t feel the same, you should stop this now—I won’t touch you again. But if you decide that you want this—us—once I have you, I won’t be able to give you up—you’ll have my soul.”

 His words make no sense to me: I could no more stop what’s happening between us than I could stop the wind from blustering in Chicago. You already have my soul, I think. It must be written all over my face as it is written all over my heart. “It scares me, how much I want you, Trey,” I admit against Trey’s lips.

 My words soothe him. “No matter what happens, Kricket, I’ll fight for you. Until death do us part . . . and then forever after that. I love you,” he says honestly. “Say you’ll be my consort.”

 “Yes,” I breathe out the word. “I promise I will. I love you. Now . . . finish what you started. Show me what it feels like to be yours.”



 Stealing oxygen while being tethered to the sky, that’s what it feels like to be loved by Trey. His mouth strokes me while I pull his hair, my lips cooing with bribes not to stop—never to stop. My pale skin turns the pink of a desert flower. I drown in fire. My paper heart is a folded, flaming phoenix. He shifts me against him, claiming my soul in exchange for his own . . .

 Trey emerges from the tub, leaving me to languish a bit longer while he retrieves a towel. He wraps it around his hips before selecting another one for me. He brings it back to the tub, extending his hand for me to take. I step out of the water onto the white carpet. Trey unfolds the towel, wrapping it around the back of me but leaving the front open. With the ends of the towel, he pulls me against him once more, capturing my lips with his own for a deep kiss that makes my knees weak. My hands rest against his chiseled abdomen, before slipping around him and hugging him tight. I never want to move; I want to stay like this forever.



 The silky sheet leaves my calf and thigh exposed. As I lie on my stomach, my head turns against a sumptuous pillow. I’m half asleep, having only just finished another round of lovemaking with Trey in the enormous bed. Every available inch of which has been covered by one of us at least twice. The sheet inches downward, slipping over my skin like water over a river rock. Firm lips press a soft kiss to one rounded cheek of my posterior. My lips curl in a satisfied smile as Trey straightens and rests his back against the propped pillows near the headboard. He pulls me to him so that my head rests on his chest. He toys with my hair, smoothing it and wrapping strands of it around his fingers.