The rain drummed against the windowpanes as Lena opened the door and Tom stood in the doorway – wet, with dripping hair, and in his eyes a glow she hadn’t seen in twenty years.
“You’ve hardly changed,” he said, letting his gaze glide over her face as he set the umbrella down in the hall. Water droplets beaded from his coat onto the wooden floor.
“Liar,” she replied softly. “I’ve given birth to two children and gained at least five kilos.” She closed the door and leaned against it, as if she needed to stop herself from hugging him. Outside, the world blurred into gray, the house felt strangely empty – Jonas was with the kids at his parents’, she had planned the afternoon for herself, with books and a cup of tea. Not with him.
“You look amazing, Lena. Really.” Tom stepped closer, his voice deeper than before, rougher. He smelled of wet wool, of rain and a hint of aftershave – that scent she had loved twenty years ago when they first kissed at the graduation party, drunk and awkward.
“Coffee?” she asked quickly, turned around and fled into the kitchen. Her hands trembled as she turned on the machine, the hum of the device filling the silence.
“Sure.” He followed her, leaned against the counter and watched her fill the cups. “I’ve wanted to visit you for a long time. But life…”
“Yeah, life.” She laughed bitterly. “So you got married and got divorced. I’m sorry.”
“No need. It was the right decision.” He paused, took a sip. “And you? Are you happy?”
Lena turned around, the coffee cup in her hand. “Jonas is a good man. A good father.” She pressed the cup into his hand, their fingers touching briefly – a tingle she immediately suppressed. “He takes care of us. But happy…” She left the sentence open, a floating promise.
Tom set the cup down without drinking. “Lena.”
“Yes?”
“I never stopped thinking about you.”
Her heart skipped a beat, then started beating twice as fast. “Tom, I’m married.”
“I know. But I had to tell you.” He took a step toward her, then stopped, his hands raised as if he didn’t want to rush anything. “I don’t want anything you don’t want.”
She looked into his eyes, those blue eyes that had looked at her so often back then, and felt the years between them melting away. The rain pelted against the windows, outside the world was gray and wet. Inside it was warm, and she could smell the scent of his skin, hear the soft rustle of his breath.
“I want it too,” she whispered before she could stop herself. Her voice trembled, and she felt her chest rise and fall, the tension in her neck giving way to a strange lightness.
He stepped closer, took her face in both hands. His fingers were cool from the rain, but his lips were warm as he kissed her. Gently, questioningly, hesitantly – a kiss that sought permission. She closed her eyes and let herself fall, opened her mouth and let his tongue in, exploring hers, slowly, leisurely. A soft sigh escaped her as he placed his hands on her shoulders, then glided them down her back, pulling her closer. She felt the curve of his chest against hers, the warmth penetrating the fabric, and the kiss deepened, became more demanding, as his hands stroked her back, tracing the lines of her spine.
She broke the kiss, breathing heavily, her forehead resting against his. “Come with me.” Her voice was barely a whisper, but he heard her.
She led him up the stairs, her hand in his, the steps creaking under their feet. In the bedroom, she turned to him. The rain was now a dull drumming that drowned out the sounds of their breathing. She began to unbutton his shirt, one by one, while his hands stroked her hips, lifting the hem of her sweater. Her fingers trembled as she touched the fabric, the smooth buttons coming undone under her fingertips.
“Are you sure?” he asked softly, his voice hoarse. His gaze was intense, his hand resting on her hip, a gentle warmth penetrating the thin fabric of her sweater.
Instead of answering, she pulled the sweater over her head and let it fall to the floor. Her bra was black, simple, but the look in his eyes told her it was perfect. He placed his hands on her waist, traced the curves of her body, and she felt her nipples stiffen under the fabric, hard and demanding. His thumbs brushed over the sensitive tips, and a shiver ran through her body.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured and leaned forward to kiss her neck. His lips traveled over her collarbone, the warm, moist trail making her shudder. She took a deep breath as he opened the bra clasp and slowly slid the garment off her shoulders. The cool air embraced her breasts, and then his hands, cupping them, gently massaging, his thumbs circling over the hard tips.
Lena gasped and threw her head back, her hands grabbing his hair, pulling him closer. “Tom, please…” She couldn’t say more because he covered her mouth with his again, his tongue demanding, and his hands slid down her back, unbuttoning her jeans. She helped him push the fabric over her hips, and stood before him now only in her panties. He knelt before her and slowly pulled down her panties, his lips following the line of her belly until he was level with her cunt.
“Let me taste you,” he whispered, and she couldn’t answer because she held her breath as his tongue touched her – gently, exploringly, the first touch making her flinch. A shudder ran through her, and she steadied herself on his shoulders as his tongue parted her inner lips and found the little nub that made her so sensitive. His movements were slow, circling, and she felt the warmth rising inside her, felt herself getting wet under his tongue, the taste of salt and desire. She heard her own moans, a deep panting, as she pressed herself against his mouth, pulling him deeper into her.
“Tom,” she groaned and grabbed his hair. He didn’t let up, dove deeper, his tongue painting patterns that drove her crazy. She felt the tension building in her lower belly, a wave that carried her over. She came with a soft cry, her body trembling, and he held her tight until the spasms subsided. She shook, her legs giving way, but he supported her, kissed her belly gently,
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