“I gotta get rid of this,” he says and gets up and disappears into the bathroom to dispose of the condom. He comes back with a washcloth in one hand and another candle in the other. “Three more of these under the cabinet. How do you feel about vanilla birch?”

“It can’t be worse.”

He lights the candle and sets it on the floor next to the other one. He sits on the edge of the bed and carefully he runs the damp cloth over my inner thighs and over my pussy. All the nerve endings bloom back to the surface. Once he’s finished, he follows it up by dropping open-mouth kisses along my hips and lower stomach. His nose edges down along my clit and then his tongue darts out.

I squirm underneath him. His arms loop around my legs and push them farther apart as he settles between my thighs. He’s in no rush this time. Every swipe of his tongue, suction, and nibble is done at a leisurely pace.

It’s no matter, though. He brings me to the brink quickly all the same. I grind against his mouth and tug at the thick strands of hair on his head.

This time, when the orgasm rips through me, I can’t even remember his name let alone call it out. I fall back boneless and satiated.

“I can’t believe we could have been doing this all along. I want to kick myself.”

“I thought the same thing earlier,” I say, eyes closed. “It doesn’t matter. We’ll make up for all of it and then some.”

Since neither of us has much in the way of energy, we warm up food and bring it to bed. We sit up talking and eating. We don’t bother getting dressed. Legs crossed and knees touching, we share what’s left of the two-day-old takeout.

“I think I like that one better,” I say around a mouthful of food and nod toward his.

“Here, last bite.” He extends the fork toward me and I take it.

He sets the empty container on the bed. “What do you say about taking the boat out tomorrow?”

“Sure, that sounds fun. I can work on my tan.”

His gaze drops to my boobs again. For as self-conscious as I am about them, he seems to like them just fine, tan lines and all.

“You misunderstood. I want to teach you to take her out. But I won’t complain if you want to be a topless captain. Captainess? Is there a feminine version of captain? Captainette?”

“Really?!”

“Yeah. We’ve got two weeks left, plus our annual trips, thought you might want to know how.”

A vision of us ten years from now out on the water together, me driving and him kicked back looking happy and relaxed dances in my mind.