Page 76 of This Loving Feeling (Mirror Lake)

“Sam, what is it?”

“It’s just—it’s been a long time since we’ve been together.”

“Come here.” He helped her maneuver herself and her cast down on the sleeping bag. She laid her head on his chest, and frankly, touching that sculpted masterpiece of a chest practically had her coming right there. “We’ll go super slow. We’ll just lie here and look up at the stars, okay?”

His smile turned wolfish, and she thought she detected a twinkle in his eyes.

“Are you serious?”

“No, but I thought you wanted to hear that.”

She rested her head on him, tucked it right between his neck and shoulder, inhaling his clean scent, the scent that was him and only him, as he stroked his hand slowly up and down her arm. It wasn’t cold in the theater but his touch made goose bumps rise up everywhere. Then she tipped her head back and looked up at her beloved stars.

“Tell me about the stars,” he said, nodding toward the ceiling.

“Well, they’re fiber-optic.”

“No, I mean, they look like constellations.”

“They are—the ones you’d see in Africa. It’s the southern hemisphere. So there’s the Big Dipper.”

He started nuzzling her neck as she pointed up at the sky, his soft lips a contrast to the coarseness of his unshaven cheek scraping against her sensitive skin.

Until he winced and she realized she’d touched his bruise as she’d worked her fingers though his hair.

“Oh my God, I’m sorry,” she said, tracing around the sore spot. “Does it hurt?”

“Yeah. Really hurts,” he said solemnly. “You’d better kiss it.”

And so she did. As she was leaning forward, she heard apfffas the zipper on her dress ran down her back. In a flash he helped her shrug out of the dress, and gently slid it off of her, taking extra care not to snag it on the Velcro of her ankle contraption. The exclamation he made when he saw her had her lifting up a prayer.Thank you, Victoria, for your secrets. She was so, so glad for her lacy black bra and panties. And judging by the look on his face, he was, too.

Then the bra straps were down and her left breast was exposed to the cool air and his mouth was on it, kissing and tickling it with his tongue. She arched a little, because she couldn’t help it, which had the effect of giving him more to have his way with. “But”—she gasped a little—“our constellation lesson isn’t over.”

“It is for tonight,” he said, and she felt his smile against her sensitive skin. He cupped her other breast in his hand, and it felt so damn good she let out a whimper.

“Sam,” he whispered.

She swallowed hard. He reached up and tucked her hair behind her ears. “You know I’d never do anything you didn’t like. And if I did, you’d tell me, right? We’ve come too far not to be one-hundred-percent honest with each other.”

“I promise. But I have to ask you something.”

“What is it, sweetheart? Ask me anything.”

“Could you—could you please do that again?”

“Do what?”

“Everything.”

And he did.

“Um,” she said, struggling a little, because talking was getting very difficult. “You’ve got a bruise on the other side of your forehead, too.”

“Kiss it.”

She obliged. “And your nose. Your nose is really bruised right—here.” She traced a line across the bridge.

“Kiss me there. Kiss me everywhere.”

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