unfinished

chapter 57

Izabelle held him tightly and lifted one leg, high on his hip to draw closer to him.  He groaned and hooked his hand behind her other knee and picked her up, his lips never leaving hers.

Hobi slowly turned and braced himself against the tiled wall, trapping her body under his, the spray of the shower gently raining over them both.

He drew away from her to watch her face.  She had shifted and moved in his arms until she was fit snug against his aching arousal. 

He felt himself jump in pleasure as she settled over him, small sighs and moans echoing in the tiled room. He could feel how physically ready she was for him, but he still held back. 

Izzy watched as Hobi clenched his jaw and stilled the restless shifting of his hips. 

He was waiting for her. 

Always, he waited for her. 

She kissed him slowly and whispered “Please.”

It was not the demand of passion or the begged request for pleasure. 

It was a prayer, an acknowledgement that only he could give her what she needed in that moment and they both felt it to their bones.

He nodded and slowly entered her, his eyes never leaving her face. 

He saw it all, the way her eyes widened when she felt him, the hiss of pleasure as he moved into her, the near silent “ oh” of her mouth as he came to rest fully within her. 

And he stayed there, one arm braced above her, one holding her securely to him.  She locked her ankles around him while her hands clutched his shoulders. 

Her body tingled with the feel of him resting in her, the caress of the water and the pure emotion flowing between them. 

She shifted her hips and he began to move.  Long, smooth  and steady he stroked her, watching her face, noting the mingled pleasure and pain there. 

Hobi watched as the tears began to form and he nodded his understanding of the complicated emotions rising between them. 

He watched as she struggled.  He could see that her battle was with herself and he thought that this was a time her overactive thoughts would keep her from falling into pleasure. 

He kissed her slowly, shifting her in his arms, and whispered to her.

“ Let go,” he coaxed,” just let go.  I am right here.  I will be right here.”

He felt her sigh take his own breath and saw that she was trusting him to take her there.

He began to move in her, rocking her gently. 

The cold tile, the warm water, his strong arms, his steady gaze all worked to both anchor her and set her free. 

She closed her eyes for just a moment and felt the assault of all her senses. 

The smell of him, of them together was heady.  The sounds she made in answer to his low whispers and moans created a melody only the two of them knew.

As she opened her eyes again she watched Hobi’s face.  The flush of pleasure and the tightness of his jaw reminded her of how careful he was with her, how beautiful, how much he loved her.

She grabbed on to that thought deep within herself, stolen for her heart only and she found her body shuddering at the combination of the intimacy of his body loving hers and the unspoken emotion between them.

Hobi watched as she arched and found her pleasure, her deep throbs pulling him closer as he freed his hips to dance to the rhythm of his hammering heart.

He gave his all to her, falling into pleasure as she shattered around him once again, calling his name in the barest whisper.

He did not hurry to withdraw from her nor to set her on her feet.  They kissed and touched and sighed until one or both of them finally realized it had ended. 

He sat her on her feet and held her until she was steady.  He turned her away from him and gathered her hair.  As he washed and rinsed it for her , both of them drifted in the haze of the afterglow.

Hobi stepped away and finished his shower, forcing himself not to kiss across her shoulders or slip his soapy hands around her curves. 

He stubbornly held on to hope for “next time.”

She washed as he did, now hiding her body from him, trying to create a distance between them that would make leaving bearable. 

In the end, he did it for her. 

She should have known he would.

“I’m finished with my shower,” he said, gently placing his hands on her shoulders.  He felt them shake and forced himself to continue.  He could not do this if she was crying.

“I’ll run to the store while you finish up,” he said, noting that she did not respond to him,” and I’ll have breakfast for us.”

He kissed her check and stepped out, grabbing his towel and putting fresh ones out for her.

He said other things, maybe instructions about where to find things or the weather today.

Neither one of them remembered a word.

She turned as he stood in the door, her vision blurred by tears and the dance of water down the shower door. 

She could see him pause with his back to her.

They both knew she would be gone when he came back.

Then she watched as he silently walked away.