Esme was worried, nervous and unsure, but she invited him in anyway. For long minutes they conversed while she silently plotted the best way to achieve her goal. The fine art of enticing a man into her bed had once come naturally to her, but now she felt like a green girl. Maybe it was the side effect of being deprived of male companionship for over twelve years. Just the thought of having a warm body over hers, inside hers, filled her with a fire that was hard to deny. Or hide.
"Esme, are you feeling all right?"
"Carlisle, will you please come to bed with me?"
Mortified, she closed her eyes. Why, oh, why did she have to blurt out such a question? Even if he didn't run out the door … wouldn't he accept just out of pity? Maybe he would think her a loose woman … Worst, maybe he would reject her … Maybe …
"Oh, thank God you asked. I'd never have the courage to do it."
Carlisle took Esme into his arms and enthusiastically kissed her, leaving no room to questions or even awkwardness. Passion flared, wild and timeless, careless of their age, of their past, of their insecurities. In the midst of their intense feelings, Esme had enough presence of mind to pull Carlisle up the stairs and into her bedroom. The elegantly decorated room was the only witness to the tentative kisses and caresses which led to the main event.
The act of baring their skin was done with some embarrassment from both parties, for their bodies were no longer firm and toned (things tended not to be where they used to be); their skin wasn't smooth (it carried the marks life had left) and because of all those other imperfections that tormented men and women alike. But Esme was perfect to Carlisle's eyes, as well as Carlisle couldn't have been more handsome to Esme's way of thinking and somehow both of them conveyed their thoughts to their partner. And being perfect for each other was all that mattered.
That night they made love for the first time.
But not for the last, not by a long shot.