The Villa

woman. Since you're forging a new path, come sit down and tell me all about your sex life now that you have one."
    On a low sound of pleasure, Pilar stretched her arms to the ceiling. "Since you ask… I'm having an incredible, exciting, illicit affair with a younger man."
    "I hate you."
    "You're going to loathe me when I tell you he has this wonderful, hard, tireless body."
    "Bitch."
    Laughing, she dropped onto the arm of the sofa. "I had no idea, really, how a woman could get through life without having a clue what it's like to be pressed down under a body like that. Tony was slim and rather delicate."
    "Not much of a yardstick."
    "You're telling me." She winced. "Oh, that's terrible. That's sick."
    "No, that's great. James has… a comfortable body. Sweet old bear," Helen said fondly. "But you won't mind if I enjoy a few thrills through your sexual adventure?"
    "Of course not. What are friends for?"
     
    Sophia was ready for a little sexual adventure of her own. God knew she needed one. She'd worked herself to near exhaustion, then worried herself over the line.
    A swim after she'd shut down for the day had helped, then a turn in the whirlpool to loosen muscles tensed from that work and worry. She'd added one more phase to the water therapy with a long, sumptuous bath full of oil and scent.
    She'd lit candles throughout the room, fragrant with lemongrass and vanilla and jasmine. In their shifting light she chose a nightgown of black silk with a low, lacy bodice and thin straps. Why be subtle?
    She'd selected the wine from the private cellar. A young, frisky Chardonnay. She set it on ice to keep it cool, curled into a chair to wait for Ty. And fell dead asleep.
     
    It felt odd sneaking into a house where he'd always been welcome. Odd and exciting.
    He'd had moments, off and on during his life, where he'd imagined slipping into Sophia's bedroom in the dark. Hell, what man wouldn't?
    But actually doing it, knowing she'd be waiting for him, was a lot better than any midnight fantasy.
    He knew when he opened those doors they'd fall on each other like animals.
    He could already taste her.
    He could see the candlelight beating against the glass. Exotic, sensual. The turn of the knob in his hand barely made a click and rang like a trumpet in his head.
    He braced for her, closing the door at his back. Then he saw her, curled in a ball of fatigue in the chair.
    "Ah, hell, Sophie. Look at you."
    He crossed the room quietly, crouched down and did what he rarely had the opportunity to do. He studied her without her knowing it.
    Soft skin that hinted of rose and gold. Thick, inky lashes and a full, lush mouth perfectly shaped to meet a man's.
    "You're one gorgeous piece of work," he murmured. "And you wore yourself out, didn't you?"
    He glanced around the room, noting the wine, the candles, the bed already turned down and heaped with pillows. "The thought's just going to have to count for tonight. Come on, baby," he whispered as he slid his arms under her. "Let's put you to bed."
    She stirred, shifted, snuggled. He decided there had to be a medal for a man who would tuck in a woman who looked, smelled, felt like this one and not crawl in eagerly after her.
    "Hmmm. Ty."
    "Good guess. Here you go," he said, laying her down. "Go back to sleep."
    Her eyes fluttered open as he pulled the duvet up. "What? Where are you going?"
    "For a long, lonely walk in the cold, dark night." Amused at both of them now, he leaned down to brush a chaste kiss on her forehead. "Followed by the requisite cold shower."
    "Why?" She took his hand, tucked it under her cheek. "It's nice and warm in here."
    "Baby, you're beat. I'll take a rain check."
    "Don't go. Please, I don't want you to go."
    "I'll be back." He leaned down again, intending to kiss her good night. But her lips were soft and tasted of lazy invitation. He sank into them, and into her as she reached for him.
    "Don't go," she said again. "Make love with me. It'll be like a dream."
    It was dreamlike. Scents and shadows and sighs. Slow, and tender where neither had expected it, where neither would have asked. He slid into bed with her, floated with her on the easy stroke of her hands, the gentle rise of her body.
    And the sweetness of it drifted through him like starlight.
    He found her mouth again, and everything he'd ever wanted.
    Her breathing thickened as sensations began to layer. His hands were rough from work, and smoothed over her like velvet. His body was hard, and covered hers like