Page 16 of It’s Me, but Different (Merriweather Sisters #3)

Esme

The hot water drops slide down my skin like small caresses while I rinse my hair.

Here, the shower has perfect pressure, nothing like the ridiculous showerhead in my Denver apartment, which barely manages to produce a trickle of water. In minutes, steam wraps around the marble bathroom like a cloud and I can feel tension leaving my muscles.

I can hardly believe it. Ana Sofia went down her first blue slope. My girl, who two weeks ago could barely stay standing on skis, has descended a slope that would have terrified me at her age.

And all thanks to Sloane.

The lavender soap slides between my fingers as I slowly soap my arms and I can't help but smile thinking about the way Sloane took care of my daughter when she fell. No panic, no overprotection, just calm confidence that got Ana Sofia to get up and keep going.

And the proud smile that formed on her lips when the girl finished the descent… She was almost as happy as I was.

I caress my breasts instinctively while soaping myself, hardening my nipples under my palms. Thousands of hot water drops hit my back.

I bend forward and let my hands venture a little lower, following the curve of my waist. I smile as I trace with my fingertips the small stretch marks the twins' pregnancy left me.

Two nights ago, when undressing in front of Sloane, they made me feel a little insecure, but the way she kissed them before continuing down to my pubis still makes me sigh. As she said, they're a memory of the most beautiful part of my life.

It's a multitude of small details. Her gaze this morning when she helped me take off my ski gloves entering the cafeteria. Her fingers brushing mine for barely a second, but enough to send an electric shock through my entire body. The way her lips curved in a smile before pulling away.

Almost without being conscious of it, my right hand slides between my legs. The hot water has relaxed every muscle in my body, but a very different tension grows inside me. A tension that appears too frequently every time Sloane is near.

I slide my fingers over my sex, finding that exact rhythm my body needs, and my breathing becomes erratic. I hadn't masturbated thinking of her for eleven years, but this last week it's all I think about when I do it.

I lean against the shower wall, and the cold marble creates a delicious contrast with the hot water.

I moan as I caress my clit while my other hand continues on my breasts, lightly pinching my nipples, imagining it's Sloane doing it.

The sensations multiply: the temperature contrast, the sound of water falling on the floor, the lavender scent. The memories, so vivid they seem real.

I feel her hands instead of mine. Her long, strong fingers, capable of that infinite tenderness that makes my entire body tremble under her touch.

A soft moan escapes my lips, muffled by the sound of water. I speed up the rhythm, losing myself in fantasies I hadn't allowed myself to have in years.

But here, under this cascade of hot water, I'm simply Esme. A woman with desires and needs, like any other. Desires I've kept dormant too long.

The tension grows in my belly like a spiral that expands more and more.

I feel more urgency, more need. Water falls on my skin, now so sensitive that each drop feels like a caress.

And I allow myself to remember our first time and all the others that followed.

That dominant attitude when we make love only to melt like a kitten with each kiss on her clit.

And I think of her moans when she's about to have an orgasm, the way she says my name between gasps, how her back arches and then becomes totally relaxed.

The climax hits me almost unexpectedly, intense, liberating. I press my back to the wall while waves of pleasure run through me from my center. And for a moment, the world reduces to this pure sensation, to this rediscovery of my own sexuality.

To Sloane.

When I finally catch my breath, water keeps falling on me as if nothing happened. But something has changed. I've allowed myself to feel desire for Sloane without guilt. Without memories of my previous marriage.

I rinse one last time, letting the water carry away the soap remains along with the last inhibitions, and when I turn off the tap, the sudden silence feels almost deafening.

Wrapped in a towel that smells like expensive fabric softener, I slide my palm over the glass and clean a circle on the fogged surface.

I observe my face, and it's like finding myself again.

Water still drips from my hair, my chest and cheeks are flushed, my eyes bright.

And I see myself… I see myself alive. More alive than I've felt in a long time.

The sound of soft knocks on the door startles me.

“Esme?” Sloane's voice sounds muffled through the wood. “Can I come in?”

My heart speeds up again, but this time it's not just from surprise. If she knew what just happened in that shower.

“Oh, wow!” she murmurs, looking me up and down, as if devouring me with her eyes.

“I just got out of the shower,” I apologize.

“The kids are with River,” she announces without preamble. “They're going to make cookies until dinnertime.”

“Oh, okay,” I respond, not really knowing what to say, suddenly too aware of how Sloane is looking at me. “And what are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you,” she admits, stepping closer and placing her hands on my waist. “I wanted… I wanted to make sure you're okay after this morning.”

“This morning?”

“Ana Sofia falling. I saw you very scared. I know that since you lost Luis, anything that happens to the kids must multiply your anxiety by a thousand.”

Her words hit me straight in the heart. For two years, almost no one has really understood that constant overprotection, that feeling that if I let my guard down for just a second, I could lose the only thing I have left.

“A little,” I admit in a whisper. “But I trusted the perfect person to take care of her.”

“You're... you're beautiful wrapped in that towel,” she hisses with slightly labored breathing.

“Yeah? Well, I'd say you're taking it off with your eyes.”

“I'm doing much more than taking off your towel with my eyes,” she admits, raising her eyebrows and letting out a small breath.

“Better like this?” I ask, letting the towel fall at my feet and standing completely naked in front of her.

“Much better,” she sighs, moving closer to kiss my neck.

I respond by brushing my lips along her jaw, covering her with small kisses while feeling how her pulse speeds up against my mouth as she gets more and more aroused.

Somehow, there's something special about this intimacy we're rediscovering, as if we're both painfully aware of what we lost once and desperate not to lose it again.

Her heart beats erratically when I unbutton her shirt and slide my fingertips along her sides.

She arches her back, feeling my thumbs slipping under her bra.

Each gentle brush of our lips reminds me how much I want to have her naked body under mine.

I don't want to run from what I feel for her anymore. I want to enjoy it.

Sloane unhooks her bra to rub her breasts with mine, lightly scratching my shoulders, asking for more.

I whisper her name against her throat, tasting her skin, losing myself in the warmth of her body pressed to mine. Each kiss, each caress, weaves our previous story into something new, perhaps stronger and more mature.

She laughs while struggling to take off her pants and underwear urgently, without stopping kissing until we can barely stay standing.

In the dimness of my bedroom, her tanned skin seems to glow as I trace the curves of her body with my fingertips.

Sloane closes her eyes and sighs, feeling my lips on her throat before claiming control.

“Your nipples are like chocolate chips,” she murmurs suddenly.

“What did you say?”

“They're small… and round… and brown… and delicious,” she continues while leaning down to lick one of them.

I just laugh.

“I'm not sure how to take that, Sloane,” I joke. “But continue.”

I tangle my fingers in her hair while she alternates from one nipple to the other, biting them gently, licking them, making circles around the areola, driving me crazy with desire.

She smiles, continuing her journey downward, covering my belly with kisses, the curve of my hips, my pubis… until she settles between my thighs, inhaling deeply.

She separates my folds with her fingers and stays still for a brief moment, as if admiring the wetness already accumulating in that area before kissing my sex.

“Get to work, because you can't imagine how aroused I am,” I order smiling, leaning on my elbows, and looking down.

“You've become bossy,” she sighs, sliding her tongue from bottom to top with a slowness that makes me tremble.

“Stop talking,” I beg between moans, letting myself fall on the pillow.

I gasp, tangling my fingers in her hair while she licks me slowly, as if eating the most delicious ice cream in the world.

“Sloane,” I sigh, feeling her mouth on my clit.

She places her hands on my hips, holding me tight while making circles with her tongue or sucking it between her lips. She stops briefly each time she notices I'm about to have an orgasm, to continue again until she makes me explode with pleasure.

“Fuck, Sloane,” I hiss, pulling her to position herself over me.

“Good?”

I can only nod weakly while catching my breath.

“Incredible.”

Sloane smiles, gently stroking my hair.

“I'm so glad to hear that,” she murmurs before kissing my lips.

We lie there for several minutes, simply giving and receiving caresses and affection. Filling ourselves with small kisses.

“Now it's your turn,” I remind her. “Well, only if you want, maybe you prefer to continue alone without me,” I joke.

“You've become an idiot, you know that?” she mutters, giving me an affectionate slap on the ass before opening my legs and sliding her sex over mine, covering it with her wetness.

I push upward, and we both find a rhythm that makes us scream with pleasure. Sloane moves harder and faster, and my clit is so sensitive right now that any minimal touch makes me tremble.

I feel tension growing again inside me, I dig my nails into her hips, closing my eyes and losing myself in a symphony of sensations and moans until I can't take anymore.

I scream her name while having a wonderful orgasm that seems endless, because Sloane clings to my body, rubbing against my sex until she also reaches climax, letting herself fall on me, covered in sweat.

“That was unbelievable,” she confesses, brushing away a strand of hair stuck to my forehead.

“Better than unbelievable,” I nod, leaning into her palm.

“It drives me crazy how sensitive you are down there,” she admits, biting her lower lip.

“Don't sell yourself short, that's because you know what I need,” I assure her, sitting up slightly to kiss her forehead.

She snuggles next to me, placing her head in the hollow of my neck, and for a very long time, we simply enjoy the silence.

“I've missed you so much,” she admits, while I slide my nails down her back.

“Me too. Although you hurt me terribly eleven years ago. Literally, you broke my heart. You're aware of that, right?”

“Too aware,” she assures with a sigh.

“Do you think it could work?” I ask, leaning on my forearm to look into her eyes. “Because last time you destroyed me, and now it's not just me. It's also Ana Sofia and Theo. If this doesn't work… If this doesn't work, I don't want them to suffer.”

“It will work. This time it will, Esme. I'm still me, but different. And if you give me a second chance, I swear I'll spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”

“The rest of your life?”

“The rest of my life,” she confirms. “I want to wake up with you every morning.

I want to teach Ana Sofia to ski black diamond slopes all over the world.

I want to help Theo with his math homework.

Well, maybe not that last one, because you know I was never very good at studies.

I guess what I'm trying to say is I want to be part of your family.”

“And if I accept?”

“And if you accept?”

“Harper's offer. Staying at Silver Peaks. Trying this with you.”

“Would you do it?”

“I think so,” I respond, and saying it out loud, I realize the decision is almost made. “I have to think about it a little more, talk to the kids to see what they think, but I'd say you have an excellent chance that I will, Miss Sloane Merriweather.”