He set a rhythm that had her arching off the bed, meeting each thrust with growing urgency. She felt the tension buildinginside her, the same tension she'd felt in the grove, but more intense now with him inside her, surrounding her, filling her completely.
His hand found her clit again, rubbing in circles that matched his thrusts, and suddenly she was coming, her body clenching around him as pleasure crashed through her in waves that seemed to go on forever.
He followed moments later, burying his face in her neck with a hoarse shout of her name, his body shuddering against hers.
Afterwards, they lay tangled together, their breathing gradually slowing. His weight was still on top of her, but she didn't mind. She liked the feeling of being surrounded by him, anchored by him.
"I'm in love with you," he said suddenly.
She blinked. "What?"
"I love you." He propped himself up on his elbows to look at her properly.
"You can't know that. We've barely?—"
"I've known since the first time I saw you. I just didn't know what it was called yet." He brushed a strand of hair back from her face. "You don't have to say it back. I know you need time. But I wanted you to know."
She searched his face, saw only sincerity. "I think I'm falling in love with you too," she whispered.
The smile that spread across his face was like sunrise breaking over the mountains. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
He kissed her, long and deep and perfect.
"I'm going to show you every day," he said against her lips. "I'm going to show you how much I love you until you believe it without question."
"I believe it," she said. "I do."
But when his mouth moved to her neck, then lower, when he showed her exactly how he felt about her, she realized that while she might believe him, she was looking forward to all the evidence he could provide.
Later—much later—she lay curled against his chest, listening to his heartbeat slow.
"I should probably go home," she said, not moving.
"Probably." His arm tightened around her. "Or you could stay."
"That seems very presumptuous."
"I prefer to think of it as 'optimistic.'"
She tilted her head to look at him. In the guttering candlelight, he looked softer than usual. Younger. The perpetual charm dimmed into something more genuine.
"I'll stay," she said.
"Good." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I wasn't actually going to let you leave."
"That sounds ominous."
"It's romantic."
"Potayto, potahto."
He laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest and into her. She closed her eyes and let herself drift, surrounded by warmth and the lingering scent of candles and wine and something that smelled like home.
This was what she'd been afraid of all along, she realized. Not heartbreak. Not betrayal.
Happiness.
