"Why didn't you call and say you didn't have a ride?" Henry frowned as he came from the shower. "You were the only one out there!"
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You are called from your enjoyment of wearing one of the t-shirts he gave you to change into after you took your shower. You were glad he didn't catch you sniffing it, able to identify detergent, softener and that part that was him that the fabric caught from so much wear. You look up, a bit startled at his tone. "I-" you stammer, shaking your head. "I thought I would have time to get home and get my clothes, I really did! I figured I'd ride in with Archer, Stuart and—"
"Archer?" he put his hands on your shoulders. "Archer left you?"
"It was a mix up," you say, losing eye contact with him.
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"Really?" His voice deepened, his jaw clenching as he put his hands in pockets, clearly unconvinced. "How so?"
"I figured I would ride home with them and they could drop me off, then you would get me from there since it's closer, but the storm was moving so fast." You see that he is leaning down to try to make eye contact, but right now, you're in a tailspin over what just happened and trying to make sense of it all.
"Why didn't that happen?"
"Hannah rode with them and got in her head I was riding in the SUV with the rest of the assistants." You say.
He tips your chin up so your eyes meet. "Do you believe that?"
"I don't know what to believe," you say, shaking your head, feeling hurt that someone would do such a thing on purpose.
"When I saw the storm coming fast, I got out and looked for you," he admitted, taking you in his arms. "I drove by your place and saw no lights, no cars so I headed to the set. The crews and I probably crossed each other." His embrace tightens. "I'm glad I followed my instincts."
"About the storm?" you look up at him.
"To go and search for you," he shook his head down at you. "Where would you have gone?"
"I was heading to that little shelter—" you are cut off by his kiss, warm and tender. Whatever the shower didn't warm, he did.
"I don't want to think about it," he says softly. "It doesn't matter," he caresses your cheek. "You're safe."
You curl against him. "Thank you for being there for me."
"You're more than welcome, sweetheart," he purrs. You feel his chest vibrate against your cheek, and close your eyes.
You back away from him, and smile, showing off the t-shirt he gave you to wear. "I'm drowning in this!"
He shrugs, chuckling softly. "Sorry." His gaze lowers to your bare legs. "Where's the pants?"
"They were literally falling off," you smiled. "I think the shirt's okay."
"I haven't seen those shapely legs since London," His look was one of admiration. "Not that I didn't appreciate those leggings when you worked out."
You shrug, "Well, I appreciated the tanks, we're even."
A huge thunder clap makes you jump and he pulls you to him.
"Rain I can stand, thunder and lightning, not so much," You confess in a whisper, your arms around his neck. You let out a cry of surprise as he sweeps you into his arms and carries you to the couch and sits with you across his lap.
"I'll keep you safe," his voice is a purr again as his blue eyes become hooded. "I'll keep you warm." With that his lips gently descends upon yours. His kisses are like the other night: slow, searching, as if there was nowhere to go. This time that was true.
He tilts your body back, cradling you with one arm, and going under the oversized t shirt you wear with the other. He strokes your body as he licks your lips, and you run your fingers down his neck, down his chest, and tries to reach the apex of his, but your position prevents it. He turns and lays on the couch, bringing your body on top of his, offering you access.
You lay your hand over his shaft and stroke up and down it, using your fingers squeeze the tip and twist gently or your thumb to rotate around where you feel the opening is. His tongue begins to mimic the patterns of your hand on your tongue, and you enjoy that he is telling you what he feels with his kiss. You change up slightly, starting to cup his sac and gently rub it, and he catches your lower lip and sucks your lower lip in response. The ballet ensues-stroke for stroke, pirouette for pirouette, pressure for pressure. You silently thank all the authors of all the sex books you read while writing the stories that got his attention, but in so many ways you know more than you've done. You always wanted to share these experiences but the answer of who always eluded you. And, now...
As if he heard your thoughts, his hands go under your shirt and pulls it effortlessly over your head to reply to them. You are topless. It's not the first time he has seen your breasts, but you'd never been in a state of undress. You feel a little shy as you stare down at him, and he removes his own t-shirt, throwing it over his head with a careless grin and pulling you down for a kiss. Your tongues mate again, your hands raking each other's bodies in an effort to feel and get closer. He slightly slides you forward, his mouth delivering the most delicious kisses over your jawline. Your mouth slightly parts, panting as you feel his tongue taste your flesh, catch it gently between his teeth so his lips close to suck what he has caught. He lights a trail of these complex, sensitizing kisses down the center of your body and licks your breasts.
"Ohhhh...." You moan softly, grinding your hips into his as your head falls back.
"Mmmh..."
A wave of heat washes over you. You have been here before: his kisses heating your blood, his hands kneading your hips as you move against him, but this time...this time...you are aching for him. You don't want to play with fire, you want to touch it even if it burns. Your mind goes through it all: how you met, the nights of cookery and conversation, sandwiches and snuggling, kabobs and kissing gaming and grinding...and it only sharpens the need to be closer. A cry escapes you as you as you plant your hands on his pecks, your fingers curling slightly as the ache inside you. You want him. Inside. Your body trembles with the realization and your hips grind harder as you lean forward to kiss him again.
He meets you with the same heat, his hips grinding in response as his mouth mates with yours. As it all becomes fevered, he then sucks his breath, breaking the kiss, exhaling your name against your lips. "I—I don't think I can stop." His eyes glitter with emotion and need, waiting for an answer to an implied question.
You slow your motions but don't stop. "I don't think I can either."
He lifts you quickly and carries you through the house, leaving Kal asleep by the fireplace. It dawns on you that you are about to see the one room you haven't.
