Warning: Smut

Rooftops and Invitation 4

"That was fun," Stephanie said as she and Carlos walked down the porch steps and turned south on Green Street. "I liked Ironman."

"Mmm-hmm," Carlos agreed, stabilizing Stephanie's big tote bag on his shoulder and capturing her small hand in his long-fingered grip. Not that her hand was really small, she mused, but his size and strength took her breath away, made her feel dainty in comparison.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the midnight quiet. Even here, blocks from the beach, you could feel the ocean, its power and its glory. The salt air permeated the atmosphere, and the faint rumble of the waves breaking on the beach was an unrelenting underpinning of life at the shore.

Stephanie's mind was astir like the sea, circling around like the never-ending cycle of the tides, trying to figure out this… thing… with Carlos. It was apparent to her now that it was more than just a summer fling, yet it wasn't exactly a relationship, at least not in the way she thought of relationships. There'd been no words of commitment spoken, no planning for a future together, hell, not even any planning for tomorrow. There was only this passionate coming together, the inability to stay apart, the pure physical need for each other. This connection

"Something on your mind, Babe?" Carlos sent a sideways glance toward her face.

For a brief second Stephanie considered sharing her thoughts but instantly rejected the idea. The tentative bond between them felt too fragile to test. She wanted him so much that she feared her desperation would frighten him away.

"Nope," she answered, turning to humor to hide her emotions. "Just a big empty space up there."

"Babe."

"Batman."

They reached the house on Ocean Avenue that contained Carlos's room. Last night was only the second time Stephanie had been there, and she surveyed the building as they strolled up the sidewalk. It was a big, ugly box of a house painted a puke-like shade of gold-brown, though the moonlight turned it to a more attractive umber.

The room was okay, big enough, with the bunk beds, the battered couch covered by a colorful fleece blanket, a small TV that probably belonged to Carlos or one of the guys. The so-called "kitchenette" was really just a sink in a cabinet base, a mini-fridge and a microwave, but the table was bigger than the one in Stephanie's place, a normal kitchen-table size in chipped Formica. The three chairs were old chrome and cracked yellow vinyl, what some people would call "vintage," but what Stephanie called junk.

It wasn't so bad, she told herself, except for the shared bathroom. She'd have hated that when the house was full during the summer. It was bearable now, since there was only one other resident left on the second floor. Carlos said he was a young guy, just out of high school, working as an apprentice auto mechanic. But she'd showered and changed back at her apartment before the movie anyway, so she wouldn't have to worry about robes or darting down the common hallway in a towel.

They climbed the stairs to the second floor and Carlos used his key to open the door of his room, flipping on the light and stepping back to allow Stephanie to precede him. As soon as she got a look she gasped in surprise. "Omigod!"

She turned and threw her arms around him, raining kisses on his face, his neck, her hands skittering up and down his back. "It's perfect. But why?"

"For you, Babe."

Carlos took Stephanie by the hand and led her to the bed. He'd turned it head to the wall and taken down the top bunk, putting the two beds together to form one king. It filled the room, taking up the space where the coffee table had been, but there was still just enough room to walk between the footboard and the couch.

The mattresses were covered with king-sized white sheets and a lightweight blue blanket. A dazzling smile beamed from Stephanie's face as she admired it. "When did you find time to do this?"

"After work."

She folded back the covers and ran her hands over the sheets. They felt like about a million thread count, soft and smooth, better quality than any linens she'd ever slept on. "These sheets are amazing. Where'd you get them?"

"Mall."

Stephanie kicked off her shoes, flopped down on the bed and rolled all the way across to the far side. "Wow, it's really comfortable. And there's no crack between the mattresses. How'd you do that?"

"King size memory foam."

Sitting up, Stephanie exhibited a wicked grin. "I have a surprise for you, too."

She began raising the hem of her red t-shirt inch by agonizing inch, keeping her eyes on his, reveling in the way they dilated and deepened, the way his smile faded and his lips parted. When she finally pulled the shirt off over her head his eyes were bottomless voids and he was almost panting. Beneath the t-shirt was nothing but the lacy white camisole she'd had on the first night he stood outside the big white house, the day they met.

After a long moment he dragged his eyes away and turned, and Stephanie heard the flare of a match, smelled the acrid odor of sulfur drifting across the room. Carlos flicked off the light switch and turned back, holding a white jar candle. The flame wavered as he moved, emitting ripples of soft, yellow light that undulated over the sharp planes and angles of his face but couldn't disguise his beauty, couldn't touch the darkness of his eyes.

Setting the candle on the coffee table, now against the wall beside the bed, he held her eyes as he undressed, revealing that perfect, sculpted body, smooth dark skin over defined muscle. Now it was Stephanie's turn to stare. She swiped the back of a hand across her chin to make sure she wasn't drooling as she took in the eight-pack abs, the solid pecs with their small, dark nipples. When he dropped his pants she gasped at the size of him, long and thick and rigid—and hers for the taking.

She held out her arms toward him, murmuring his name. "Carlos."

"Babe," he whispered as he dropped to his hands and knees on the bed, creeping toward her with the smooth, rippling grace of a panther stalking its prey. Stephanie couldn't read his expression, the flickering candlelight behind him casting his face into shadow, but she knew every millimeter of it, knew it was filled with that mixture of danger and desire that sent palpitations quaking through her. Her nipples were taut, straining the lace that covered them, throbbing for him, aching for his touch, and wetness flowed between her legs.

His hands went first to her waist, unbuttoning and unzipping the khaki shorts and sliding them off, his mouth following their path over the white lace boy shorts and down the long, pale legs. When they were gone, he worked his way back up, every touch making her moan, her breath catch, her limbs tremble.

He took his time, worshiping her body with his hands, his mouth as he finished undressing her until she lay revealed, open to him. He couldn't tear his eyes away from her face as his fingers and tongue brought her to climax, her sharp cry ripping into his heart. Moving back up, he watched as the blindness faded from her eyes, and when she was again focused on him he revealed himself.

"Stephanie." His voice was low, hoarse, passion filled. "I love you."

The surprise, the pleasure punched through her, and she framed his face in her hands as she rolled them both over, skin sliding over skin, smooth and satiny. Her mouth covered his, tongues colliding, fingers demanding, and then she reciprocated the slow, hungry exploration of his body, touching, tasting, teasing until he was quivering with urgency. But still he remained, fists clenching the sheets on each side, body tensed but yielding to her advances, her control over him complete.

When he thought he couldn't hold back another second she rose up over him, hesitating, her look penetrating his heart, his soul.

"I love you, Carlos," she whispered as she took him in.

And he was lost.

TBC