《What's Left of Our Hearts》Corporeal Confessions
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Dominic stood at the window facing the Thames. Nothing had changed and everything had changed. The kitchen lamp cast just enough light to show him partially reflected on the glass. The half-man that stared back had circles under his eyes and a stern quality to his jaw. That half looked to the other that wasn't there. His mind, soul, and even body were all still back in the car with her. Her scent still lingered in the air around him, taunting him. They'd almost kissed.
He clenched and unclenched his fist at his side, and decided pouring himself a drink would help keep it busy. He wasn't even aware of when he'd downed the whole thing, but the next time his eyes focused on the goblet, it was empty. He exchanged it for his phone and held the device for a long while, his finger hovering over her name. He knew he should let her go back to her life in Manhattan. She had Sophie, Owen, a great career, and no doubt a thriving and uncomplicated life. A happy life. With a glance at the half-man reflected in the glass, he grabbed his keys and made his way down to the garage. The city lights burned defiantly against the blanket of night, but only a few stragglers patronized her sidewalks.
The phone rang for a long time before she picked up. Dom wasn't sure she would.
"Are you still awake?" he asked.
"I couldn't fall asleep," she said. The hoarseness of her voice told him at least she'd tried, which was more than Dom could say for himself.
"Me neither."
There was a long pause in which he could hear her soft breathing.
"I need to see you," he said, at last, leaning against the wall. He counted the flower-shaped sconces down the empty carpeted hall. There was silence on the other end of the line. "Clara, are you still there?"
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"Yes," she breathed.
"Open the door, Clara."
He could hear her muffled breathing and the rustle of cotton. The line cut out. He knew he should never have come, but he had hoped that...maybe... It was foolish. He was a bloody moron. He detached himself from the wall and turned to go when he heard a click behind him.
Clara stood in the doorway, barefoot, wearing a simple rose-colored satin slip. Her blonde curls twisted every which way like they couldn't agree on a form or direction, and yet managed to look incredibly soft and silky. Caress me, they said to him. Her pink lips parted and her eyes latched onto his. She looked, for the first time since he'd found her again, unguarded and vulnerable, somehow younger. Dominic was overwhelmed by the sight of her and had to fight down whatever was constricting his throat.
In three short strides, he closed the distance between them and his lips were on hers. With one arm, he picked her up and pressed her to his body, with the other he shut the door behind them. She felt new and same as before all at once. He remembered the curve of her neck, and when he kissed her there she sighed the same way she used to. It sent a shiver down his spine. His palm traveled down her thigh and slid underneath the slip, bunching the fabric up over her smooth skin. She felt warm to his touch, and his need was reaching feverish temperatures inside his core, too.
"Dom..." she moaned his name, and Dom nearly lost it trying to close whatever atomic difference there was between their bodies. Her single layer was gone first and his own clothes disappeared shortly thereafter. He was a starved man at a feast and devoured every inch of her.
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He had no idea how or when they made it onto the bed, he just knew that one moment he felt like ripping that little teasing slip off with his teeth, and the next, Clara, his beautiful Clara, was gasping deeply as she gazed up into his eyes. He couldn't stop kissing her lips, her face, her earlobe, her neck, her breasts, her stomach. He truly understood what insatiable meant. A small part of his brain that was miraculously still active noticed some fleeting emotion in her expression, but their bodies had made a pact tonight, and so they lost themselves in each other as if nothing had ever happened, as if this was the only night they would ever have, as if they were two other, uncomplicated people with uncomplicated pasts who could simply be with each other for one night.
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