Page 38

SYMPHONY

I don’t know what we’re doing, but clearly, we’re doing it naked because Diesel says, “I’m tearing this suit off you the moment we’re away from the crowd.”

Diesel drops off the water bottles to his sister with me over his shoulder. “Don’t come into the condo anytime soon,” he warns her.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she says, giving me a wink.

I bang on Diesel’s back. “Let me down, you caveman. Everyone on the beach is watching you lug me away.”

“You love it,” he says. “I’m going to do a Tarzan roar in a minute.”

I laugh and bang on his back some more. “You wouldn’t dare.”

But he does, letting out a jungle call that gets the attention of everyone who might not have noticed us before.

I bounce along, waving at people as we pass, not missing the cute bronzed-bodied girls taking in Diesel’s delicious tan body in the ice blue board shorts.

Read ‘em and weep. This one’s mine .

The condo complex is three stories, and apparently, Diesel’s rental is on the top floor. He takes the steps two at a time, even with me on his shoulder.

I laugh harder as my belly is jarred against his shoulder. “Good thing I haven’t been doing Fireball shots, or I’d be puking down your back.”

He slows down, striding down the hall until we reach a pale green door in the beach pastel rainbow. He has a key card on a stretchy band around his wrist and flashes it over the lock.

Diesel takes care not to bump my head as he hauls me into the room and kicks the door closed. We don’t stop until we arrive at a room with two queen beds.

The room becomes a whirl as he rocks forward and tosses me onto one of them.

“I’m a sack of potatoes,” I say with a laugh. “Just fling me where you want me.”

“Don’t talk, potato,” he says, already pushing my suit jacket off my shoulders. “Just let me peel your outsides.”

I drop my shoes from my fingers over the edge of the bed. “Eeuuwww!” I smack his shoulder even as he tosses the pieces of my suit onto the other bed.

His tongue makes its way up the inside of my thighs. “Mmm. Salty potato.”

“Okay, we’re doing this in the shower if you’re going to talk about my sweaty thighs.”

“Great idea.” He lifts me off the bed and rapidly strips off my bra and panties. “Last one in is a rotten potato.”

He takes off for the open door of the bathroom. I shriek and leap from the bed, catching his back as he tries to go through.

He snatches my legs, and I end up ducking through the door, riding him piggyback style.

“I won,” he said. “Loser turns on the water.”

“Fine.”

He sets me down, and I bend over to figure out the controls to the shower.

Diesel drops his board shorts onto the floor.

I’m puzzling out which way is hot or cold when I feel his cock against my butt.

“Not in the shower yet.” I twist the handle and push the button to move the water from the spigot to the shower head.

“That’s all right.” His hands move everywhere, waist to breast to belly, reaching around to finger my clit.

I suck in a deep breath. Steam fills the room.

“Loser potato is rinsing off.” I slide the plexiglass door to the end with the controls, leaving the back side open.

He releases me to let me inside.

The water courses down my body, washing away the stress of the day, my first shift at the federal office, hearing from Greta, having to finish out the day, and driving to the beach.

Tomorrow, I have both class and a half-day of work, but I can think about that on the drive home.

For now, there’s Diesel, stepping in beside me and sliding the door closed.

My hair melts out of its updo, and I pull the pair of pins holding it in place and set them on a soap dish.

“We should have done this before,” Diesel says, his mouth following the path of the water down my collarbone, along the swell of a breast, then taking in a nipple.

I press one hand against the tile wall to steady myself. “Today was my first day at the new job.”

He pauses. “You got the job?”

“I did. My friend Mina and I both work at the federal building.”

“That’s great. So, you really can take on that permit office from the inside.” He grasps a breast in his hand and lifts it to his mouth.

“Possibly.” The word is lost in the onslaught of need crashing over me. This is what I’ve missed these last two weeks. Diesel. His ardor. His adoration. I realize how close those two words are. Same root, I assume, then my mind is erased as Diesel kneels, his mouth traveling down my body.

My fingers find a metal bar on the wall and hold on for dear life as his tongue slips between my legs exactly like he did that first time at Bailey’s wedding.

So many things have changed since then. My friendship with my bestie. My career. Even how I feel about myself.

Diesel did that. We did that together.

My head falls back, my wet hair streaming down my back as he spreads my thighs more widely, delving in deeply.

His free hand reaches up to massage a breast. I squeeze my eyes closed in the warm flow of water.

I surrender to him, his mouth, his touch, the sucking of my clit.

The familiar tug begins low in my belly, spreading through my body. It twists and turns, growing in intensity.

My thigh quivers, and Diesel moves my leg to his shoulder to provide more support.

I hang on to the metal bar, sinking into his face, my entire body starting to shake.

He’s so good at this, so thorough, so skilled. He cares about how I feel, what I like, what makes me tick.

The pleasure bursts out in a wave, and I release a keening cry. His name slips out, over and over. I might be crying, the tears lost in the shower flow, and thank goodness he can’t see them.

I can’t get emotional here. I don’t know what’s next, if anything. They might still enlist. They might move on.

Stop. Just be here. Don’t think.

Diesel stays in place until the last pulses subside. He lowers my leg and begins a long, slow massage of my entire body, calf, knee, thigh, butt, waist.

I almost flinch when he grasps my belly, but he leans in to bite it.

I laugh and look down at him, leaning forward to get out of the spray. “Are you eating your potato?”

“This is my favorite part.” He bites again.

That’s Diesel. He can make my most self-conscious place into the best, the most glorious, something to show off, to tempt him with.

Emotions soar through me again, but I have to ignore them, let them wash down the drain. Be here, Symphony. Take this moment. You didn’t even know you were going to get it.

“Have you drawn my potato belly?” I ask him.

He stands up before me. “I haven’t been sketching.”

“Why not?”

“Couldn’t.” He smooths my hair back. “You ready to go airborne?”

“What do you—” My question ends in a squeal as he lifts me, then slides me down his hard chest.

It’s even stronger and more bulging than before and so, so tan.

I wrap my legs around his waist as he enters me. God, it’s delicious, opening for him, my arms around his neck.

“I’m going to fuck you damn hard,” he says. “Then I’m going to fuck you slow out there on the bed.”

I press my cheek against his. “Yes, to both.”

He’s magical, lifting me like I’m nothing to slam me down on his cock, over and over again. I don’t think about orgasm, not here, not like this, as I enjoy the lightheadedness of the ride. My body slides up and down his, filling me with hard, rocking thrusts.

He groans against my shoulder. “Symphony,” he murmurs. “Fuck, yes.”

I feel the pulse of him inside me, then the sudden warmth. Barebacking again. Fuck, it’s hot.

His arms clasp me against him. The water flows down us both, trying to fill gaps, but failing to find any inroads as we’re pressed so tightly together.

We’re one steady rock, fused at the core, and no force of nature can come between us.

Except it can’t last. And even as he shuts off the shower and carries me to the bedroom, the air conditioning chilly to our wet bodies, I know the truth.

He’s going to leave. This is all I’m going to get.

And I will live for every moment.

We’ll make it unforgettable.