Out of Nowhere (Middle of Somewhere 2)

He sits on the floor next to the tub, pulls off his sweater, and dips a hand into the bathwater, then trails his fingers up my arm. The only light comes from the lamp in the bedroom.

“Close your eyes. Just relax.”

I’m worried he’s going to leave, but he keeps his hand on my shoulder, and every time the water starts to cool a little, he lets some out and adds hot. I must doze off for a minute because when I wake up to the sound of the ocean and the sensation of water it takes Rafe’s hand sliding gently under my neck to figure out where I am.

“Ready to get out, or you want to stay a little longer?”

I shrug.

“Stay right there for a few minutes.”

I hear him moving around in the bedroom and then he’s back, holding a large towel open and helping me out of the tub. As Rafe helps me to the bed, my movements are so sluggish it feels like I’m still in the water.

Rafe kisses me slow and liquid, his hand on my hip. If he wants to distract me with sex, I’m happy to go with it, but when I try and pull him down on top of me to deepen the kiss, he eases back, just kissing me like we have all the time in the world.

I’m not even turned on, really. Just warm and relaxed, like after I’ve run until I can’t run anymore. Rafe lies down next to me, and I turn on my side to face him. His hair is a mess—tangled from the wind outside probably—and I work the knots out as he kisses me, leaving it soft around his face. It sticks in stubble I haven’t shaved since before the funeral.

Rafe’s jeans and T-shirt are rough against my water-softened skin, and I tug at them. He pulls his shirt off slowly, the lamplight behind him turning his torso into a sculpture. He comes back down to me naked and kisses me deeply.

“I love how you taste,” he says against my mouth.

“I probably taste like spaghetti sauce.”

He presses my shoulders back down to the mattress, and something warm and dark unspools in my gut. As long as Rafe’s in charge, I can’t fuck up.

“Just let me touch you,” he says. “I want to.” I nod. He kisses my ear, my neck, the hollow of my throat.

Then he has my hips tilted up and my thighs spread while I’m still lost in the feel of his tongue tracing my jaw.

He slides fingers down the crease of my ass and around my hole, watching me, then sliding inside. Every touch of his fingers inside me makes me crave more. When he leans in and kisses my open mouth, he looks mesmerized.

“You love this,” he says. “Me inside you. Filling you. Opening you up.”

I can’t speak for the sudden wave of lust that washes over me when he talks like that. Says out loud the things that I could never express. Would never say. And I don’t have to say anything because he just keeps kissing my mouth and my neck, his fingers trailing fire inside me.

Then he pulls away and my eyes fly open. “No!” I say, trying to grab his wrist.

“I’m just getting lube,” he says, but I shake my head and pull him back. He fucks me with his fingers, and every few thrusts he curls them and pleasure slams through me. “God, you’re so beautiful like this. The way your body just lets me in. Fuck,” he groans, dropping his head onto my chest, stilling for a moment while he takes a deep breath.

He kisses down my stomach and scrapes his teeth over my hipbone, and I curl into the sharpness of his mouth.

Rafe buries his face in my crotch, breathing me in, kissing and sucking at the crease where my thigh meets my groin and the base of my dick. Everything feels like it’s happening in slow motion. Like every minute his mouth is on me unfolds to hours and all I can do is lie here, caught perfectly between his hot mouth and his fingers inside me.

It should be impossible to be this relaxed and this turned on at the same time, but I keep spacing out even though I’m aware of the physical sensations.

One night, weeks ago now, Rafe and I woke in the middle of the night and brought each other off in the dark, both half-asleep, our legs entwined and his hair in my face. I feel almost like that now. Dreamy and liquid. This time, though, Rafe’s focus is intense and everything about him is urging me to be open to him. To let him do as he pleases. It’s a heady feeling and one that still makes me cringe if I think about it.