Part 7
He was inside her again.
He could see her, feel her, smell her, and taste her.
She was hot and tight and wet. She was hungry and possessive. She touched and kissed him with abandon and yet with a tenderness that he had rarely experienced in his life. She was giving and he was accepting it and giving back the best he knew how.
It was too much and not enough.
Last night had been about comfort. Tonight was something different. He felt claimed and was claiming in return. He believed she was reclaiming herself. There was maybe something else or more but it was impossible for him to analyze when she was moving beneath him in perfect sync. He cursed the part of his brain that was trying. He didn't want to analyze. He just wanted to feel, her and what she made him feel and what he felt for her. He wanted to be in the moment with her.
He kissed her with the need that drove him, mouth locking with hers as he sank deep then stilled inside her. She pressed her fingers firmly into the muscles of his back and whimpered a protest but she eased when he gathered her into his arms and held her impossibly closer to him. She kissed him in kind and held him, too.
He desperately wanted to rise up on his knees and let her ride him but he couldn't. The position was impossible to maintain with his leg so he rolled them instead and watched her sit up slowly.
Her hair was all about her, a wild tangle of curls that she didn't bother to tame as she smoothed her hands down over his chest. Her eyes followed their path and he found himself watching the minute changes in her expression.
Wonder. Self-satisfaction. Want. Vulnerability. Confidence.
He felt as well as saw the latter take over. He gripped her thighs when she began riding him. He'd fantasized about her just like that too many times to count. The reality was perfect.
He looked down to see where they were joined, then up to see the mesmerizing bounce and sway of her breasts. Her throat moved as she swallowed. Her head was thrown back, her face was upturned to the ceiling, but her eyes were closed. She bit her lip and her hands closed around his forearms when he rolled his hips under hers.
She tightened around him and it was good. So damned good. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the sight of her. She made him reconsider his views on the existence of an all-powerful being, but not in the way people might think. He thought if there was an all-powerful being in the universe, it might be her.
She certainly held power over him. As dominant as he was in their relationship, she could easily make or destroy him at any time, especially now as she took him in and out of her. She knew it, too. He saw it in her eyes when she finally looked at him again. But that power was steeped in something softer, something that wanted anything but his destruction.
His racing heart shuddered at the sight of it. He found himself reaching for her, hands sliding to her waist then up and around to her back. He grazed his fingers over her damp skin and felt her shiver.
She came down to him, her hands moving to cradle his face. She looked at him a moment before kissing him slow and soft, drawing a sound from him that he could never remember making before. It wasn't satisfaction. It wasn't a signal of escalating desire. It was something else and it made him shiver all over when she made the sound, too.
He kissed her in kind and she pressed herself closer to him. He held her, his hands lightly cupping her shoulders. In that moment, she felt delicate and fragile, like fine china. She huddled against him as if she were. Then she was rising up again and he let her go but never let his hands lose contact with her. He skimmed along her arms, found her breasts again and caressed her in time with her movements over him.
She watched him as she took him in and out of her. He was struck by the sheer honesty of what he saw in her darkened blue eyes. She cared about him and he saw that care. He also saw more than that, what he'd label as love. He'd seen it last night, too, but had wondered if he imagined it. He'd wondered the same earlier, too, but he didn't wonder any more.
This was real. It wasn't a fantasy. She was real. What she felt was clear and she was making it known with her body, in how she looked at him and touched him and made love with him. It was the same as he felt for her and he tried to convey it with his own flesh.
He found her hands with his and laced their fingers. She brought them to rest against her hips as she rode him. Her eyes remained on him as she took them toward orgasm. He watched her because he simply couldn't look anywhere else. His existence was pared down to her as he moved with her.
When they came it was together, a rare and elusive culmination. He had enjoyed it few times in his life — it had been years since the last time — and he reveled in experiencing it with her.
He wrapped his arms around her when she came down to him again and engaged him in more soft kisses. She seemed content with doing just that, between labored breaths, until their bodies had cooled and calmed in the middle of his bed.
She lay her head on his shoulder then, stretched out her body atop his.
"This okay?" she asked.
"Yeah," he somehow managed to get his tongue to work enough to form words.
She went still after she rested a hand against the curve where his neck met his shoulder. He thought she might sleep then but she didn't. He surprisingly didn't feeling the usual post-great sex call to slumber.
He grazed his fingers up and down her back. Her skin had dried and she quivered on each pass of his fingertips.
"Thank you for letting me stay."
It was a barely audible whisper against his throat and followed by an even lighter kiss to his Adam's apple. She nuzzled his whiskers then and spoke before he could.
"You didn't have this in Michigan."
She smiled when she said it and he found himself smiling, too. He remembered those days, that one night, but he hadn't thought she'd be the one to bring it up.
"Like it?" he asked, curious.
She nuzzled him again, dragging her lips lightly through the prickly growth, making him shiver, before answering affirmatively.
"It's … appealing," she said then gently grazed her teeth along his jaw. He moaned softly when she did that then took a deep breath to quell the desire it sparked.
She let out a soft laugh then resettled against him with a sigh that he'd label as contented. That she would feel that surprised him a little, considering the emotional landscape of the last few days. He believed he was good in bed and that they were definitely good together, but even his considerable ego wouldn't allow him to believe that two nights of sharing a bed would move her completely past heartbreak to joy.
Joy. That's what she'd named the child. The painful irony was not lost on him anymore than he suspected it was on her. Whatever she was feeling at the moment, the loss would be with her some time yet. He could mercilessly draw her away from it, attract her ire and force her to confront it head-on, but he resolved to leave that wound alone. He had done enough damage on that account.
"What are you thinking?"
The question drew him from his thoughts and made him realize she'd moved and was now propped up and looking at him. Startled, he met her gaze and shook his head. He doubted she really wanted to know the exact nature of his thoughts but knew better than to think she hadn't already gleaned them. The way she was looking at him, so somber, told him that well enough.
"Why did you come?"
His question netted a smile and made him realize he'd given her the perfect, if unintended double entendre.
"I would have thought that pretty obvious," she teased and he smiled in return. He liked the playful side of her. He always got a thrill when she let loose.
He chose not to speak but touched her instead, his fingers gently brushing a curling tendril back and tucking it behind her ear. The action sparked a confession and answer to his question.
"I didn't plan to," she said softly. "I was going home but I found myself knocking on your door."
He cradled her jaw and searched her eyes before speaking. "You didn't want to be alone."
"No," she whispered. "I didn't."
He saw tears well with the confession and it humbled him that she would allow them in his presence.
"I'm the last person people seek out for comfort," he said then, an unspoken question behind his words: Why would you, again?
She gave him a little smile again. "Not everyone needs or finds comfort in the same way."
"No," he said softly in agreement.
He didn't press the subject more and she didn't elaborate. He let the answer be enough, for now.
