Page 99 of The Replay

It's better if this is a professional visit for some reason.

She smirks. "The kind where we probably don't want anyone seeing me here in the hallway."

Dammit. Like I could resist her at all.

"Fuck. Come in," I say.

The door isn't fully closed when her lips latch to mine. I bring her close. Take a deep breath and bring her slowly into the room. I make a point of moving at a languid pace, even in our kiss, enjoying the way our mouths and tongues move together.

"Be gentle with me tonight," I say. "I had to treat my shoulders after last time. The medical team wasn't happy with me."

"Did you tell them how…?" She caresses my chest.

"No, but they guessed."

"Oh, no." She giggles and pulls me closer to bed. "How embarrassing."

"I played it off cocky. None of it was major. I only got some minor ligament irritation. Worth it, if you ask me."

She laughs. "I bet you always play it off cocky."

"Tengo con qué, Duquesa." I kiss her jaw. "The evidence shows I have reason to play it off cocky."

I glance at my erection, clear in the way it tents my joggers, then at her. I raise an eyebrow, because enough said.

She chuckles and gets on my bed. "I'm here so you can show me the evidence, Dominic."

And I do.

We're still smiling an hour later when we get in the tub. She's sitting in front of me, between my legs, and leaning on my chest. There's nothing fancy about the moment, with the bathroom's instant fan noise and the lack of bubbles or bath salts, but we set the mirror light to soft and pretend we're in candlelight. And with the water so clear, I get to admire the hills, rounds, and swells of her body, and the dark brown tips of her breasts. The smell of her hair products tickle my nose, and I take a deep breath.

My muscles melt in the heat of the tub and I relax into it. I pool water in the cup of my hand, then release it on her chest. The drops travel down her skin until they merge with their source.

In our post-climax bliss, it's easy to dissolve into the moment, and the ease with which we steal another hour together. It's always been like this. Creating secret spaces just for us. Falling into them as automatically as we breathe.

"If I got things right," I say in a low voice, "I'm your third hookup post-divorce. Right?"

It feels right to keep the ambiance soft for a second longer.

"What?" She chuckles.

"In the club that first night. You said you went on a couple fun dates, which I'm assuming means I'm your third hookup."

"Oh, that." She caresses my leg. "How many times have we had sex now?"

Nine times, but who's counting. Obviously me, but probably not her, so I don't reveal anything.

"I think you're asking the wrong question." I kiss the spot behind her ear. "The question is if you count it per person or per encounter."

"Mmh. Per person, I think. Then yeah. You're my third hookup. Why?"

"Porque la tercera es la vencida, baby."

"Oh my God!" she laughs. "And followed by a ‘baby’? Honestly, Dom."

"Fine." I chuckle. "I'll just use the other nicknames, then."

"I could do with no nicknames at all."