There she was at last, better than memory, better than dreams. He slid under her legs, hooking her ankles over his shoulders, so that he could gaze at her. His hands cupped her soft buttocks, lifting her up a little, exposing every rosy, gleaming fold. He breathed in her exquisite scent, uniquely her.
Her thighs quivered around his neck, tensing. “Ash?” she said, with a catch of uncertainty.
If she had still been connected to him, she would have known his hesitation for what it was—a moment of overwhelming, dumbstruck awe at her magnificence. She was offering him a priceless gift. It was only fitting that he treat it with reverence.
But she couldn’t read his soul. He couldn’t surround her with his feelings, so that she knew as deeply as he did her perfection and magnificence.
All he could do was show her.
He bent his head, sliding his tongue through her slick folds. He relished her taste, her soft sounds of pleasure, the way she opened and bloomed in response to his touch.
He circled her sensitive bud, sucking, teasing. Even as she cried out in ecstasy, her hips bucked up against him, demanding more. Oh, that was Rose, his Rose, open with her desires, boldly claiming her due. Delighted by her urgency, he slid two fingers into her welcoming depths.
Her thighs clenched hard around his head, as hard as her body around his fingers. The hot pulse of her fulfillment filled him with fierce satisfaction.
She gasped as he crooked his fingers, her inner walls still trembling with shuddering flutters. He would gladly have wrung wave after wave of pleasure from her, but she pulled away.
“I said I’m not patient, Ash.” Pushing him off, she sat up, flushed and gleaming with sweat. “Don’t make me wait any longer.”
He was so hard that it was a struggle to undo his pants. He couldn’t bite back a groan as his length sprang free from the confining fabric at last.
Rose drew in a soft, sharp breath. A little tentatively, she reached out. He jerked at the first brush of her fingers, wetness beading his tip. Every shy touch was exquisite agony as she explored him.
He caught her wrist as she started to wrap her fingers around him. “Rose.”
She stopped immediately, withdrawing her hand. “Not good?”
Again, that slight catch of uncertainty in her voice. He wished with all his soul that she could feel what he felt, the effect she had on him.
“Too good,” he said gently, bending to kiss away the worried crease in her brow. “Rose, my Rose. If only you could see yourself through my eyes.”
Her smile dazzled him. “No more waiting?”
“No more waiting,” he breathed.
She might not be able to read his soul, but he could read hers. Imperfectly, through the old, blackened scar between them, but he still didn’t need words to know her desires.
He stretched out on the bed, lying on his back. Once again, she straddled his hips—but this time, there was nothing between them. He caught her hands, bracing his arms. Supporting her steadily, holding still, despite the inferno raging through his blood.
Slowly, maddeningly, her wet heat enfolded him. She took him with painstaking care, biting her lip in anticipation of pain. He clenched his own teeth, staying silent even though he longed to reassure her that he wouldn’t hurt her, couldn’t, never would again.
“Oh,” she gasped, as she stretched around him. “Oh.”
She took all of him easily, so easily. He couldn’t hold back any longer as her depths embraced him. He thrust upward, fingers clenching around hers, burying himself in her welcoming warmth.
She cried out his name as he filled her utterly. He thrust again, and again, her body moving to match his, picking up the same driving need.
He pulled her down to him, wanting her closer, skin to skin. He held her tight in his arms, her breasts to his chest, her breath in his mouth. In her and around her, bodies united into one.
It wasn’t enough.
Even as her back arched, even as she screamed his name, even as he emptied himself into her, it wasn’t enough. They were as close as two people could be, yet she was still agonizingly untouchable. What should have been an open bond between them, bright and strong, lay scorched and black and dead.
He poured into her, longing for her, straining to reach her across that old, charred scar—
Her half-lidded, ecstasy-glazed eyes snapped open. She stared down at him, her lips shaping a single, impossible word.
“Blaze.”