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‘That was...’ She shook her head, searching for the right words but none seemed adequate.
‘It’s not over yet,’ he assured her.
And then he was moving over her, his body coasting slickly over hers, fitting to her as if they were each two perfect parts of a unique, bespoke design. She didn’t think, she just reacted, looping her legs around his hips, thrilling in the sensation of his blunt head sliding through her wetness, her hands acquainting themselves with the muscled contours of his arms.
Need poured through her. She recognised it so perfectly, had traced and retraced it almost every night in her dreams since the first time they’d been intimate, but it hadn’t remotely compared to the reality of touching him again. Of lowering her lips to his skin. Of tasting him. Salt and sin, maleness and magic.
‘Easy,’ he murmured as she lifted her hips to press against him.
‘It’s fine.’ Rae slid her hands over his shoulders and down his back. ‘I’m ready.’
She didn’t know what made her do it—instinct, not experience—but she suddenly twisted her body and lifted her hips again, drawing Myles inside her, gasping as he stretched her, faster and wider than she’d imagined. She had no idea how much self-control it took him but she felt him brace himself, holding himself back, allowing her time to adjust to his size.
‘That’s why I said easy,’ he berated her softly.
She shook her head.
‘I didn’t realise.’
‘No, but I did.’ He dropped a kiss onto her forehead, still careful to hold back. ‘You can stop frowning now.’
‘Am I? Sorry.’
‘Does it hurt?’
She wrinkled her nose. It had, for a moment, but not now.
‘No,’ she confirmed, experimentally rolling her hips.
He groaned and she couldn’t help but grin.
‘This time, I set the pace,’ he warned.
He began moving again, slowly at first, with gentle pressure, sliding himself in and out, a little further each time, his eyes not leaving hers, and it felt to Rae as if she were the most precious thing in the world.
She couldn’t have said when the tightness eased completely, she only knew that she had moved her hands lower, gripping him tighter, moving with him as he began to pick up the pace, sliding deeper and harder, their breath mingling as they rode the wave together. Her body lifted up to meet his, to match his, with every perfect thrust. It drove them both on, making need pound through them.
And then her hands dropped lower, clutching at him, pulling him deeper than ever, and this time when he slid inside she shuddered and then she heard his groan of release and everything ignited, like a glorious blaze all around them, consuming them both.
Devouring them alive.
* * *
The blow came from out of the blue, pain jolting her awake. As if someone had just body-slammed her to the ground, winding her. Temporarily paralysing her. And then suddenly Myles was growling at her, his tone brutal, dangerous, making her heart pound in her chest with fear even though the words seemed to make no sense.
‘Myles? What’s going on?’ She could hear the rising panic in her voice, but she still couldn’t move. She certainly couldn’t get up.
It took her another few unnervingly long moments to
work out that Myles wasn’t really engaging with her at all. And then she realised that he was actually asleep.
Nightmares.
Or night terrors.
The demons of the night that so often came with PTSD.
She’d almost forgotten what her half-brother had told her about Myles’ last mission.
