We went out onto the deck together.

The sky was almost totally clear, a black velvet blanket overhead. A few scattered clouds drifted lazily past the glowing moon. Christos led me to a circle of chaise loungers on the far side of the swimming pool that had a great view of the dark ocean. Distant waves crashed in a silver drizzle against the shore.

Christos whipped a blanket out and it billowed down on a lounger built for two. We crawled on top and he spread the other blanket over us. It was almost warm enough without the top blanket, but it wouldn’t be as cozy without it.

We snuggled together, our arms and legs entwined. There was no way I could imagine cuddling under the stars in Washington D.C. in February. Not without a winter sleeping bag, long johns, wool cap, and mittens.

“Exciting day,” I said.

“Yeah,” Christos chuckled. “Who knew my girlfriend could make Sherlock Holmes look incompetent.”

“Thanks,” I grinned. “You know, it’s still Valentine’s Day.”

“That’s right. Happy Valentine’s Day, agápi mou.”

Snuggled under the blankets together, I felt unbelievably peaceful in his arms. All the troubles of the world were far away. Whatever they might have been, they were no concern of mine.

I realized that Christos was gently stroking the side of my cheek with his hand. Swirling energy flowed out from his fingers across my face, relaxing away my remaining tension.

His thumb slid across my lower lip, tugging gently against it. I moaned softly.

“You never got your Valentine’s Day kiss, agápi mou,” he murmured.

I remembered all the flowers and candles and chocolates he’d given me the day before. And the love making that had followed, him inside me, inside my mouth. And how all my stuff was moved into the house the next day. I was living with my boyfriend! Woo hoo!

Over the last few months, I had experienced so many firsts with the most perfect man in the world. Christos never ceased to amaze me. He brought so much joy and excitement into my life. I was the luckiest girl in the world.

“I love you, Christos,” I sighed. “You have no idea how much I love you.”

“If it’s even close to how much I love you, agápi mou, I have a pretty good idea.”

My heart still melted every time he told me that, every time he called me agápi mou.

“My heart is yours, agápi mou,” he murmured. “It always will be, and I believe it always was. I just had to endure the torture of waiting for you to finally show up in my life. It was a long wait,” he grinned. “But now that you’re here, I can’t imagine life without you. Without us.” There was a vulnerability in his eyes that warmed my heart.

“Oh, Christos,” I sighed.

He leaned toward me, his lower lip brushing across my upper. That slight contact was enough to cause a heat wave to blossom in my chest and my mouth to tingle with anticipation. When our lips gently touched, his tongue slid inside and caressed mine. Hunger for more overtook me and I fell into our kiss like it was the first time all over again. My heart raced as heat poured down into my core. I breathed him in, inhaling the life force of love that flowed from him into me, and back out again. Our bodies united in a perfect exchange of our desire for each other and our need to be needed. Our hearts were beating in an intimate rhythm, completing an eternal, infinite connection.

Christos’ intense desire to touch me accelerated into almost a desperate thing. His hands were all over my breasts, my ass, caressing across my stomach, my throat, touching all the tender sensitive places that only Christos had ever touched. It was like he couldn’t touch me intimately enough, as if his fingers searched desperately for my very soul so that he could hold onto it and never let go. My heart was so open to him in that moment, I welcomed his need. I imagined my own soul flowing into his body to mingle with his. I was his to take, to embrace, to caress, to hold, to love.

I murmured, “I need you, agápi mou.”

He responded by unbuttoning my blouse with intoxicated languor while he licked my neck, the curve of my jaw, the lobe of my ear. He tugged the tails of my blouse out of my skirt and unbuttoned it slowly. Then he planted his warm palms firmly on my taut stomach before sliding both hands over the satin cups of my bra and squeezing my cleavage.

“Your breasts are perfect, agápi mou. I swear, whenever I’m around you, just thinking about them gets me hard. I always want to touch them and grab them. They drive me fucking crazy. I’ve never been so obsessed with breasts in my entire fucking life.”

For a second, I was startled by his crude language. But there was a humor to his words, a lightness, an unabashed desire. After a moment, I realized that Christos was expressing his joy. His simple, unadulterated joy. For me. For my breasts. His words had an innocence and honesty to them that warmed my heart, an innocence that I couldn’t deny.

I encircled his neck with my arms and smiled up at him. “They’re all yours, agápi mou,” I murmured.

“Really?” he asked almost shyly. It was so unlike him to be shy. But he was. For me.

I nodded and smiled at him. “For you, agápi mou. Only for you.”

He smiled wide while he unsnapped my bra in the front and it popped free, releasing my breasts. His eyes goggled and the grin on his face was now gigantic, like he’d never seen breasts before. “Fuck,” he grinned, “look at them. Perfect. Absolutely perfect.” He looked like he had discovered a treasure chest worth trillions of dollars. Maybe he had.

I glanced down at my breasts. They looked like my regular old breasts. I wasn’t going to argue with Christos. If they looked like treasure to him, so be it. My own smile widened.

I was all his.

He brushed his fingertips across my nipples and moaned, “Fuck, just touching your nipples makes me want to come in my pants.”

Him? The butterflies taking wing in my chest made me want to come in my panties. My nipples tightened into hard buds. Christos leaned down and flicked one with his tongue until it was wet and slick and straining. Then he showered the other with similar attention while massaging both with his hands.

My eyes were rolling into the back of my head as the familiar whirlwind in my chest coiled me into a tight knot of ecstasy. Every time he kissed and caressed my breasts like this, I was transported out of my body. I don’t know if I had an orgasm or not, but it really didn’t matter. The pleasure was immeasurable.

After a time, he paused and sat back on his heels. He gazed longingly down at my chest. “Fuck!” he smiled, staring at my swollen, heavy breasts and my engorged nipples. “You are a work of art, agápi mou,” he sighed.

Christos was excruciatingly happy now, a happy bomb waiting to go off. His happiness flowed into me, and I welcomed it. I felt relief washing over me. Christos’ joy was cleansing my soul, purging all the horrible stuff that had led up to today. The anxiety and worry and fear were all gone. Water under the bridge, a fading memory.

Joy was what lay ahead for me and my man.

He laid down beside me, propped on his elbow. He grinned, “Do you have any idea how fucking hot you looked in court today?”

“Mmm?” I moaned, still half dreamy with the pleasure circling between my sensitive breasts.

“After my case was dismissed, all I wanted to do was hike up your skirt and throw you on top of that defense table.”

“With an audience?” I snickered. I couldn’t decide if the idea was totally weird or a total turn on.

“I’m sure we could’ve asked the judge to clear the courtroom,” he smirked, “For a sidebar.”

“You mean the one in your pants right now?” I giggled. His cock was a hot rod of iron pressing against me through his slacks. “I think your sidebar needs some attention.”