Her senses were caught, locked in the moment; never had she felt so alive. So aware of herself, and of him. Of their bodies merging, giving and taking, of their skins, slick and hot, rubbing and sliding, touching, brushing, caressing. Of their breaths mingling, their hearts thundering in unison, their bodies striving, their wills as one.
Diving into the flames, bathing in the passion, in the hot furnace of mutual desire. Clinging, gasping, then stoking the flames to new heights.
Until they erupted in a towering wall of heat that fell on them and consumed them, that cindered all remnants of rational thought, poured in molten sensation down every nerve as wildfire flashed across their skins.
Desperate, they danced on, breaths fractured, hearts racing, fingers sinking deep.
He lifted his head, dragged in a gigantic breath—as did she. Their gazes met.
>
“Do something for me.”
She could barely make out the words. “What?”
“Wrap your legs about my hips.”
She wanted to ask why but didn’t, instead simply did as he asked—and learned the answer.
He drove into her—deeper, harder, faster—drove, it seemed, straight to her heart. She arched beneath him, gripped tight with her thighs, heard herself cry as her senses fractured—not as before but infinitely more intensely, shattering into shards, bright, sharp, gilded with glory.
She felt him hold still, buried deep within her, then he was with her, caught, trapped, swept up and away in the pure energy swirling around them, through them, that battered them, buoyed them. Ultimately fused them.
Fused their bodies, heated and damp—then imploded in a sunburst powerful enough to fuse their very souls.
She’d wondered what would happen after; no amount of wondering had prepared her for this.
For the sheer weight of him, slumped on top of her, for the thundering of their hearts, for the glory still coursing through their veins, the heat still pulsing under their skins.
Over. The raging storm had swept past and left them washed up, exhausted, tossed up by the waves on some deserted island.
Only they were real. In that moment, the rest of the world did not exist.
Boneless, she lay beneath him, stunned, yet at peace. He turned his head. Their breaths mingled, then, blindly, their lips met. Clung. Held.
“Thank you.”
His words feathered her cheek. Lifting a hand, she brushed back his hair, then stroked down, over the powerful lines of his torso, the long muscles of his back.
“No—thank you.”
For teaching her, for letting her see . . . possibly more than he’d intended.
She’d been right; there was something special between them, something worth fighting for. But there was also so much she’d yet to learn . . .
His lips cruised over hers, then he drew in a breath, and eased from her. The change was dramatic—the difference in sensations, in how her body felt when he was there, joined with her, and when he was not.
He lifted from her, then slumped on the bed beside her. One heavy arm reached across, settling her against his side, locking her there.
“Go to sleep. We’ll have to get you back to your room before dawn—I’ll wake you before then.”
She smiled. Refrained from telling him she was looking forward to it—to having him wake her up. Turning onto her side, she snuggled down, snuggled her back against him.
She’d never slept with a man before, but sleeping with him seemed perfectly natural. Perfectly normal.
Perfectly meant to be.
Dawn came too soon.