Page 51 of Things We Do for Love and Science
“Gabriel,” she whispered.
He kissed her again, deeply, and deliberately, smoothing his hands over her body.
She lifted her leg and pressed herself against him, loving his responding desire. She clawed at his body, wanting him so desperately that she undressed him with little finesse but undeniable ardor.
“My God, you’re beautiful.” She covered his chest with kisses, tasting a hint of salt on his skin.
“So are you,” he panted, apparently winded by the suddenness with which she had pushed him onto the bed.
“Let me look at you,” she said.
His eyes had darkened, and his breath came in short, shallow gusts. Her own want was mirrored in the depth of his wide pupils, and the air around them vibrated with delicious tension. This was going to be fun. She hovered over him, opening her blouse, button by button, until the gap revealed the fanciest bra she possessed. He gasped when she removed it, and the sound of his surrender made her chuckle. Her skirt soon joined her blouse on the floor, as did the tights and the rest of her underwear. All the while he didn’t say a word, but the expression in his eyes was eloquent enough.
A warm joy welled up inside her as she lay beside him, stroking his arms and chest, kissing the goosebumps on his skin. Was she torturing him? Probably, but he took it well. She ran her hands over his body, parting his legs, and stroking the inside of his thighs.
“Delia.” His voice was husky, but she no longer laughed at his evident desire. They were lost to each other in equal measure, and the awareness of it slowly trickled through her.
She climbed on top of him and playfully bit the curve where his neck met his shoulder. He grabbed her, and she delighted in his urgent touch.
“Yes, Gabriel.”
He flipped her over and caressed her breasts, lowered his head and a fork of lighting split her body when he sucked one nipple, then the other.
“Yes,” she moaned, arching up to him, sweat gathering on her skin.
He moved farther downward, his tongue shaping exquisite circles until the tidal wave broke and crashed over her. She took a moment to catch her breath before pulling him up.
“Now,” she commanded.
He braced his arms on either side of her head and regarded her. She stretched out beneath him, hungry, impatient, and eager to feel his body on hers. He entered her gently as she widened to admit him.
Filled and held, she relaxed underneath him, while he slowly rocked them into a perfect embrace, only gathering pace when she bent her knees and shifted beneath him to let him in deeper. He searched for her eyes.
She met his gaze, but it was hard for her, to allow a closeness that threatened to transcend the physical. Impossible to endure. She shut her eyes and dropped her head back, offering her throat to be kissed.
His breath came in ragged bursts, and she clung to him as a shiver of release went through him. He lay with her in his arms for a while longer then got up and dressed, and she was pleased that he didn’t presume he could stay the night. After he’d gone, she went back to bed and snuggled into her duvet, calm and contented like a cat. With boundaries firmly in place and the end date fixed, she could fully enjoy the gift of intimacy with this beautiful man.
~ * ~
The air was bracing, and the clouds hung low in the sky, but so far, the rain held off. Professor John Winter adjusted the glove on his right hand. He selected the driver from his golf bag, ready to tee off in full confidence that he’d get in a round of golf before the weather broke.
The golf ball on the tee, he got into position, concentrated, swung, and grunted in satisfaction when the tiny white orb flew in a wide arc down the fairway.
“Nice shot, John.”
Professor Winter spun at the sound of the familiar voice. “Alistair, old sport, it’s been a while.”
“It has been, it has been.” Mr. Brady-Greene shook Johns’s hand. “I suppose work is busy for us both.”
“Let’s do this round together and catch up.” John replaced the driver and shouldered his golf bag, ready to watch the banker tee off.
Alistair’s shot was quite respectable, and together they ambled down the fairway while inquiring after each other’s families and general health. But conversation always turned to more important things like work.
“I have recently embarked on an exciting project, and I have to tell you, it’s progressing quite nicely. It’s called ‘The Renwood Longevity Project’ and I’m setting out to discover—”
“Ha. I know about that.” Alistair beamed at him. “Lady Renwood is your researcher, and that’s how she met her husband.”
“Lady Renwood... Who...?” John had momentarily lost all fluency in the English language.
