"I'm going to get my hands on her right now." And then he had her in his grip and was tugging her into the tent before she could comprehend his meaning.
It was just sinking in as his mouth latched onto hers. Without thinking, her palms slid over those pumped biceps and those new, heavy shoulders. If the recently acquired muscles made him look like a stranger, touching them only enhanced the unfamiliarity. Then she curled her fingers in the short, velvet nap of his hair at the back of his head, and her pulse settled a little. This was recognizable. And so were his lips, the sure thrust of his tongue, the taste of the kiss.
It spun her away from the present.
She was nineteen again, her birthday just the week before. She'd had one lover before him, the summer after senior year, the king of the prom who'd bumbled his way through her virginity. But David was a man, and he was the steady, mature kind who didn't feel it was an ego blow to ask for directions.
Do you like this? he'd whispered in her ear, pinching her nipples just hard enough to make her gasp. His hand had traveled lower. Shall I rub light and fast or hard and slow? Just the words had enflamed her.
Now her husband reached for the zipper of the tent, and she heard him draw it down, prohibiting all light. It only drew her further into the past. He'd shared a two-bedroom house in the valley with a guy who was working in the financial district, both of them saving their paychecks. David's room had held a queen bed, a side table and a narrow window. With the curtains drawn it was a dark, intimate space where a girl could hold her guy's head to her breast and not worry that he'd see the embarrassing ecstasy on her face as he sucked her nipple deep.
She wanted that now. She wanted it so badly that she yanked both the sweatshirt and T-shirt over her head in one move. David was already working on her bra, and she felt her skin flush hot as the silky fabric brushed the taut tips when he tossed it away.
Her bare torso rubbed against his. He was hard where she was soft, and he grunted when she ran her hand down the front of his pants and cupped him over his jeans. Nineteen-year-old Tess had done that too, bold as could be in the darkness, but she wouldn't have dared to attack the fastenings.
She did now, though, and another distinctive vriiip of a zipper sounded over their heavy breathing. His erection nudged the palm of her hand, and she squeezed it in greeting, eliciting a half groan, half moan from David. He went for her zipper then too, but she didn't release her prize; instead she caressed it with the C of her fingers, stroking up and down until she felt a drop of wetness meet her thumb. She smeared it over the crown, and he cursed, rolling away from her touch.
Her protest died as he yanked at the legs of her jeans. The denim hit the side of the tent with a thwap. Her white panties rose like a feather in the air. She didn't see them fall because her eyes squeezed shut as David crouched between her spread thighs.
He'd done that same thing in the sex cave in the valley. Let me, he'd said then. Don't be embarrassed. You'll like it. Don't keep me out. Don't push me away. Never not let me have you, Tess.
Now, as she had at nineteen, she allowed him to hold her steady, his palms on her inner thighs, his thumbs peeling her open like an exotic fruit he was intent on savoring. A blush burned over her skin. The prom king had probably not even known about the part of her body that David found so easily with the tip of his tongue.
Just the tip. Just the tiniest flick.
The sound she made now was louder than the one she'd made then. At nineteen, she'd swallowed back as best she could those passion noises that had crawled up her throat. David had praised the small moans and whimpers. "Yes, baby," he'd said against her wet flesh. "Show me that you like it. Let me hear how good it is for you."
The numbers guy was nimble in so many other ways.
Just when she thought he'd nudge her over the precipice