Convicted (Consequences)

thighs. No longer was she on the edge of sleep. Her world was reignited as the tips of her lips turned upward and goose bumps materialized.
    Opening her resting eyes, behind her sunglasses, and focusing on the handsome face before her, Claire saw her husband’s devilish grin. It was a smirk of lust and pleasure, one which—with only a glance—could melt not only her insides, but her world. His eyes, too, were covered by dark glasses, yet as his smiling lips neared hers and her smile willingly changed to a pucker, she longed for the unseen intensity waiting for her behind that dark glass.
    Reaching up, Claire lifted the dark barrier. Tony’s eyes were the windows to his soul. She loved reading his emotions, especially when desire was part of the mix. In response, Tony, slowly and deliberately, removed her sunglasses and their eyes met. There was a moment when she thought to speak, but it was short-lived—so much more could be said without words.
    Earlier that morning when Claire woke, Tony was gone. Madeline said he’d gone out on the boat. Now, after only hours apart, Claire realized their reunion would be more than a simple, Hi, how are you today?
    It was true, her body had been thoroughly fulfilled and used the night before; nevertheless, it yearned for what was silently being offered. When his full, soft lips engaged hers, the passion of the night before returned with a vengeance. Only moments earlier, her lungs inhaled without instruction, yet as acquiescing moans escaped her lips, breathing required thought. Maybe it wasn’t thought, it was timing. Inhaling needed to occur in unison. If it didn’t, his unrelenting approach would rob her body of the oxygen necessary to go on. As her bathing suit covered breasts ached for the friction of his chest, Claire decided breathing was overrated. She wanted the heat that was overtaking her—to be consumed by the fire smoldering in the dark penetrating eyes. If in the process she forgot to breathe, did it really matter?
    With the doors to their suite open to the crystal blue sea, their room was only slightly more private than the lanai; however, it was their room. Madeline and Francis respected their privacy. As Claire’s bathing suit fell to the floor, she realized they’d yet to speak, and still they’d conversed more than some couples did in a lifetime. They’d greeted one another, discussed the pleasantries of the tropical morning, and assessed that each was doing well.
    Laying on the soft comforter with her arms above her head, the man she loved gazing down at only her, and the large ceiling fan methodically moving the humid air, Claire’s world was right. Had she planned on her morning taking this turn? No. Was she willing? Without a doubt.
    The large talented hands claiming her body also had her soul. While his approach could at times be forceful—it was always gentle. Claire willingly surrendered, as she’d done a thousand times, to the whims and desires of the man above her. With no words, he could manipulate and dominate—move her from a state of sleeping bliss to the throes of erotic desire. Similar to years ago, his dark eyes held the passion and emotion which allowed her world to spin. Because he willed it so, the world was right.
    Their past was significant, yet—insignificant. Years ago, Tony had told Claire not to talk about the past. He’d said they had a future and they needed to look ahead; nonetheless, at her prompting, the first month of their new marriage had been spent primarily in the past. She hadn’t asked to know the truth—she’d demanded it.
    When Claire was young, her grandmother told her to be careful what she wished for. Without a doubt, Tony and her grandmother were correct. There were times she wished for ignorance, times she wanted not to know all he’d told her; however, she did know—and in knowing—she wanted to put it all behind them. Claire wanted to look ahead toward a future with the man making love to her, seducing her, and fulfilling her every desire. She knew from experience that life with him could be difficult—but without him—the entire planet would spin out of control, lost forever in the darkest depths of the universe.
    Claire closed her eyes and concentrated on his talented fingers as they caressed her skin. Beginning at the nape of her neck, they trailed lightly down her body. Uncontrollably, Claire heard her own voice, truly nothing more than a ragged breath surrounded by a moan as her back