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He gives her a unusual gift before leaving on trip.

"You feel it in your arms, from your skin to your bones. Sometimes, it feels like the light is going right through you, it's so strong." He brushed his fingertips across my jaw line. I swallowed, wondering of he would kiss me, and wanting it, yet hoping that he would keep talking.

"You feel it on your face," he said, "warm and bright. You close your eyes, because it's too bright to look right into the sun but you can still see the light, even with your eyes closed."

"Sometimes it's too hot, though," he said, "and you just have to cool off somehow. Then you go for a swim in a pool or the lake. It doesn't matter, because it's the water that's important. When you first get in, it's so cold, because you've been so hot for so long, but you get used to it." He brushed his fingers over my lips and they softened as if he had kissed me. I felt the slight tug as he wrapped a lock of my hair around his fingers. He let it go and I felt it fall back into place, brushing against my neck. I was dying for him to kiss me, but he kept talking.

"The best part, though," he said, "is when you finally get out of the water and start to dry off." He touched my arms again, brushing against the little hairs from my wrist to my elbows.

"It's the best part, because you're cold again, right at first, as the air hits your wet skin. You're standing in the heat, beneath the burning sun and you're cold anyway, but not for long. The heat from the sun causes the water on your skin to start to dry. You skin dries so fast that it feels like it's shrunk somehow. It feels tight, but not in a bad way. You can feel every nerve. You're arms and legs, your stomach, your chest..." He ran his fingers across my arms again, touching the back of my wrists and then grazing my knees just below the hem of my dress.

"Your face," he continued, cupping my face in his hand.

"Everything," he said, and he leaned in to kiss me. I reached out and held him so that he couldn't pull away.

"I'm not finished," he said, and I kissed him again.

"Tell me later," I said. He laughed and gave in, kissing me, hungrily.

I pulled the blindfold off so I could look at him. His eyes were blacker than usual. He kissed me again. I ran my fingers through his hair, feeling the black curls between my fingers; soft and smooth. He kissed along my jaw line and tipped my chin back to kiss my throat, lingering there for just a moment. It was a strange feeling, someone else's lips on my throat. He kissed the tender place at the base of my throat and worked his way back up to my jaw and then my lips again.

He worked the zipper on the back of my dress, pulling it down over my shoulders. He kissed my bare shoulders, and ran his fingers down my arms again. He caught my arms carefully and guided me until I was lying across the sofa with him sitting next to me, over me.

It was almost impossible to breathe at all.

I slipped out of my dress and he traced the line of my body from the straps of my bra to the bit of lace that bordered my panties. He kissed me, just above my navel then trailed kisses up to my throat again, slow sweet kisses that left me breathless.

"Come with me," he said and stood, taking my hand. He led me to his bedroom. We were on the bed kissing again before I even had a moment to think. It didn't matter. This was what I wanted. All the time in the world wouldn't have changed a thing.

He slipped his shirt off, tossing it over the side of the bed and we kissed, sitting up on our knees. I traced his skin with my fingers. I had never seen him without his shirt before. He looked at once vulnerable and powerful, beautiful. I studied him.

I had been wrong before, his skin was not coffee and milk.

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