Page 26 of Love, Take Two

"God, you're beautiful," I say. "You've always been beautiful, but now..."

"Now?" she asks, settling onto the bed with grace that makes my mouth go dry.

"Now you know how beautiful you are," I finish, joining her on the soft mattress. "It's intoxicating."

When she kisses me in response, it's with the kind of intensity that suggests we're both done with tentative exploration. Her dress slides off with surprising ease, revealing skin that's golden from tropical sun and curves that are both familiar and new. I take my time rediscovering every inch of her, mapping the ways her body has changed while marveling at everything that's exactly the same.

"I missed this," she admits when my mouth finds that spot just below her ear that always made her melt. "I missed you touching me like you're memorizing every detail."

"I am memorizing every detail," I confess against her skin. "Eight years felt like forever."

Making love to Vada feels like coming home and exploring somewhere new. Our bodies remember how to move together, but there's a depth to the connection that didn't exist in college. Every touch, every kiss feels both achingly familiar and thrillingly new.

When she arches beneath me, hands clutching my shoulders as I worship every inch of skin I can reach, the expression on her face is pure bliss and trust that makes my chest tight with emotion.

"I love watching you fall apart," I tell her, honest about how incredible she looks lost in sensation.

"Then don't stop," she manages, though her voice is breathless and unsteady in a way that makes me want to spend hours learning what makes her respond like this.

By the time we're both thoroughly exhausted and tangled in sheets that smell like ocean air and tropical flowers, the moon has moved significantly across the sky, and I'm pretty sure I've rediscovered what it means to feel complete.

"That was..." Vada starts, then trails off like she can't find adequate words.

"Better than I remembered," I finish, pulling her closer so her head rests on my chest. "And I remembered it being pretty incredible."

"Definitely better," she agrees, tracing lazy patterns on my skin that make me want to start all over again. "Though we should probably get some sleep. Tomorrow's activities start early, and I have a feeling we're going to need our energy."

She's right, but falling asleep with Vada curled against me feels like the kind of luxury I thought I'd never experience again. Her breathing gradually deepens and steadies, but I stay awake longer, listening to the ocean and processing the fact that everything between us changed.

My phone is blowingup with the usual social media crap, but for the first time since getting to this crazy place, I don't even look at how many likes or whatever. Yesterday Vada and I were playing the "friends" card, even though it was clear we had something going on. Fast forward to now, and we're recovering from the best sex of our lives. It's happening fast, but feels right.

After morning kisses, Vada untangled herself and went to her suite to get ready for the day. After a quick shower, I’m toweling off when I hear the first rumble of thunder through the bathroom windows. The sky outside has darkened significantly, with heavy clouds rolling in from the ocean. According to the resort information, afternoon storms are common this time of year.

Lightning slices across my suite as I'm getting dressed, followed by thunder close enough to rattle the windows. The lights flicker, and the evening I was planning feels like it might end before it starts.

Natural light disappears as the storm intensifies, leaving my suite dependent on artificial lighting that keeps flickering with each thunder crash. I'm debating whether to head to dinner when the power goes out completely, plunging everything into darkness.

"Well, that's just great," I mutter, feeling around for my phone's flashlight function.

A soft knock on the terrace door interrupts my search for emergency lighting. Through the glass, I can see Vada silhouetted against the storm, holding what appears to be several candles and wearing a resort robe that suggests she was mid-prep when the power died.

"Emergency lighting delivery," she says when I open the door, extending candles that smell like vanilla and tropical flowers. "My suite has the emergency candle supply, apparently. Very romantic for a power outage."

"Perfect timing," I say, accepting the candles and trying not to focus on how unreal the flickering light makes her look. "I wonder what this means for the celebration dinner."

"The front desk called," she says, "They've suspended everything until the storm passes, and the restaurant is running on generator power for essential services only."

"So we're stuck here until this blows over?"

"Looks like it," she agrees, "Though honestly, some of my muscles are questioning me about beach volleyball dives, so I'm not entirely sad about quiet evening."

“You want to hang out here?” I offer.

“I like that idea.” She settles into one of my suite's armchairs while I arrange the candles for the best lighting, curling her feet under herself in a movement that's achingly familiar from college study sessions.

I settle onto the sofa across from her, instantly creating a cozy atmosphere with candles and the sound of the storm, escaping the wedding festivities and all the social media coverage we'd been dealing with all week.

"Very nice," she agrees, and something serious in her tone. "I've been curious about something..."

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