The cold rain poured down in torrents, stampeding across the roof like a herd of wild horses. It overflowed the gutters and poured like a waterfall into the garden on either side of the stairs. The night was frigid, dark, moonless and starless... cloudy. He opened the door and there she was. She'd been looking downward, staring at some spot in space that was just below his knees. When he opened the door, she looked up.
Dark locks of half-curling hair were plastered to her face, her neck, her chest. A zip up sweater was stuck to her shoulders, a white tank top stuck to her breasts, her belly, molding itself to her. A pair of flare-leg blue jeans clung to her legs, and dripped water in an ever expanding puddle around her feet. She stood in silence with her hands by her sides, bleak. It was the first time he'd ever seen her like this... so shattered.
It almost killed him...
The light in her eyes was gone, that wildness that had been her trademark for so long... snuffed out. She stood before him, a shadow of that sparkling gem that she had once been. When her blue eyes rose to his, they were blank. No, not blank. Banked. The fire was still there, only faded... and it sparked when she saw him.
Her body shuddered and her arms lifted, hugging one another tightly against the cold that had so soaked into her very skin... that she doubted she could ever be warm again. There was a moment, an eternally long moment when she waited for him to say something, ask her what she was doing here... here... so far from home. But no... he didn't.
Silence.
She fidgeted, looked away from his eyes nervously and he was stunned. He wasn't sure what to say, wasn't sure what to do. What had brought her here? Why? What had happened? His eyes met hers again and she shivered once more. Then, he knew. Though not a word was spoken, he knew. She had come, for him. And that thought baffled him beyond words.
I couldn't do it. Not without you...
No sound passed between them but the shuddering of her cold breath as it puffed little white clouds into the air. He... did not breathe. She seemed just as confused as he was. It was as if she'd been living in a dream and had just now woken to find that it wasn't a dream...but a reality instead. She looked like maybe, just maybe... she wanted to cry. They stood there like that for long, awkward moments. His mouth opened and formed her name, his lips molding around the word.
"Sometimes I lay there in bed," She started, her teeth chattering around the words. "Warm and wondering how cold you are. Sometimes I turn on my side and run my hand up my arm... closing my eyes, pretending it's you lacing your fingers with mine. You warm behind me. Pressed against me... and I wonder where those thoughts come from..."
She stopped, and he opened his arms. She slipped into them soundlessly...
"You... I don't understand. Why you?" She chattered the words into his chest and stood clutching at his shirt. "It was never like this before... you came to visit... we fucked. I came to visit... we fucked. You came to visit... and left... and this time you took a piece of something with you..."
Her body was cold and wet. She shivered, her entire frame wracked with chilly shudders. He hugged her closer to him, tighter, and she buried her face in his shirt. He closed his eyes, whispering her name on such a silent breath that he doubted she heard it. So right. She was always so right. Her skin, her body, her oh-so-blue eyes and those small, but full lips of hers that somehow bent into the most wicked smile... that he had ever seen. And loved.
He pulled her into the house, hauling her backwards unceremoniously. He wanted her. Wanted her now. In this moment. Now. His hands tore at her shirt, ignoring the zipper and simply pulling the sweater-jacket over her head. She lifted her arms so that he could pull off the tank top. She wore no bra; her nipples were hard as rocks. He stared at them, their dusky tan color that was just a few shades darker than the creamy white of her belly.
He saw her blush. And was startled. She never blushed, never lost that 'Devil made me do it' smile that was her trademark. He reached out and touched her face, her skin was free of water now, but it still held that moist coolness that had so soaked into her skin. She closed her eyes and leaned her face into his hand, bringing her own hand up to touch his fingers, glide down to rest on his wrist. She smiled.
And he lost his breath.
Because as she smiled she opened her eyes and looked up at him with such sadly poignant adoration, that he was taken aback. It was as if she lamented this rise of emotion, lamented the loss of her highly flaunted freedom of heart. And yet, she knew that this was the choice her heart had made. And her head and all its good sense just couldn't compare to the emotion she felt. At this second.
After a second her eyes moved, turning their blue stare upon his shirt. Slowly she lifted her hands and slipped them beneath, bringing the fabric ever higher. He gasped as her cold fingers touched his sides, tickling. Up and up she lifted the shirt until he raised his arms over his head and let her pull it free... and toss it aside.
He reached out then, and touched her breast. His fingers curved around the fullness of it and she overflowed his hand. So soft and round with pale tan nipples that faded into brown where their tips stood at attention. He felt her hard nipple press against his palm and was hard, achingly hard in an instant. Slowly his hand slid away from her breast and around beneath her arm, to her back. He pulled her to him again, holding her hard against him, feeling those nipples as they pressed against his chest. Feeling the soft globes of her breasts as they were flattened, against his skin.
Her hands slid over his sides and across his back, then down beneath the waistband of his jeans where she cupped his backside. Her breath was warm, hot, on his neck, in his ear, he heard her open her mouth... to speak.
"I want you."
Stepping back, she placed her fingers at the button that would begin her foray into his pants. One second and she was flipping his jeans open and pulling down the zipper. Slowly, ever so slowly she moved. It was as if she was trapped in someplace where time stood still and she was battling against the current. He waited and watched, his dark eyes on the crown of hair atop her head. He felt her push his jeans down over his hips and felt her push them down, down, down until they lay around his ankles. He stepped out of them.
Her hands then went to her own jeans and she undid them, slowly easing them down over her hips and catching her underwear on the way. She took them both off at once, over her hips and down her legs until she stepped out of them and then tossed them aside. She was completely naked to his view.
