Mad About You

morning.
    Her hands shook as she undressed and showered quickly in the bathroom, but she couldn't be sure how much of her nervousness was due to memories resurrected by the room and how much was due to Bailey's impending visit. She tried to calm herself afterward by massaging perfumed lotion into her skin, using long, soothing strokes. The sole nightgown she'd brought was papery white cotton, short and adorned with ribbon roses where the thin straps met the smocked bodice. Despite its near transparency, it suddenly looked very girlish to her. She slipped on sheer white panties, then pulled the gown over her head and switched off the light. After toweling her hair dry in the semidarkness, she sat on the edge of the bed, brushing fullness into her fine-textured hair, gazing out the splendid window at the moonlit view.
    Thirty minutes passed, then forty-five, and she was beginning to think she'd misinterpreted their exchange, when a faint knock sounded at the door. Her heart jumped to her throat, and she stood with her back to the window. Her voice didn't work, but she didn't have to answer because the knob turned and the door opened.
    Bailey paused in the doorway, wearing white boxers, his hand on the doorknob. She inhaled deeply, then realized her body was completely silhouetted to him by the light of the window.
    "Ginny?" he ventured to say, his voice hoarse.
    "Bailey."
    "I thought you'd be in bed by now."
    She slid her tongue over her lips. "I was waiting for you."
    He stood motionless for a few seconds, then stepped inside the room and closed the door noiselessly behind him. She waited for him at the window, holding her breath.
    Inches from her, he stopped. "You look like a dream, standing in the moonlight," he whispered.
    She exhaled. "But I'm not a dream. Touch me, Bailey."
    With a deep groan he pulled her to him in a hungry kiss. His arousal was already hard against her belly. He cupped her bottom and squeezed her against him, then slid his hands beneath her gown and caressed the back of her waist, her spine, her shoulder blades.
    Fire spread through her limbs, and she weakened under his seeking hands. She moaned into his mouth and ran her palms over his muscled back, reveling in the smoothness of his skin. He smelled of soap and talc, his hair curled damp against his neck. She buried her fingers in its softness, pressing his mouth harder against hers.
    He dragged his mouth away with a moan, then picked her up and laid her on the bed. Before he joined her, he stripped off his boxers, his erection and muscled behind outlined to her briefly. She gasped when he rolled in next to her, scooping her up to hold her in an iron embrace.
    "Ginny," he whispered, "I thought I'd never get to make love to you again."
    He began kissing her ear, then moved to her neck, then lower, teasing a nipple through the thin fabric of her gown. His tongue left a trail of fire, causing her muscles to dance and her body to moisten itself in preparation for him. Lifting the sheer garment out of his way, he fell upon her breasts, greedily kissing and sucking, the electric barbs paralyzing her with pleasure.
    He eased down her panties, moaning as his fingers encountered her wet anticipation. Virginia's knees rose at his explosive invasion, clenching around his fingers, urging him deeper. Using his thumb, he massaged her most sensitive spot, moving his fingers inside her in unison. The waves began to build, and she rode them, moaning his name. "Bailey, oh, Bailey… "
    At the crest, she bit down on his shoulder, remembering with sudden clarity how quickly he could bring her to climax. He brought her back down gently, slowly. She groaned in utter satisfaction.
    He grinned and whispered, "Like riding a bicycle."
    She laughed, swinging at him playfully.
    His arousal branded her thigh, hot and unyielding. She reached to encircle him with her hands, rousing a sharp gasp from his open mouth. Moistening him with her own wetness, she stroked him slowly, the way she knew he liked it, then began to move under him, with him, as if he were already inside her.
    His head went back, a look of rapture on his face. "Ginny," he whispered, "you know just what to do to make me crazy." He lowered his mouth to draw on her breast, and she arched into him, her thighs sliding against each other, slick with satisfaction and growing need. Bailey moved lower still, kissing her abdomen and navel, nipping at the outer edges of her private mound, licking her thighs. Suddenly