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Sex had never been beautiful to her before. She’d had her share of dirty fuckfests and she’d enjoyed them all, though some had been more pleasurable than others. But this…this went beyond.
When the haze started to clear, she opened her eyes. His were still closed, long dark lashes dusting his cheeks. She smiled and fought the urge to touch. He needed a couple of moments rest.
Ah, fuck it.
Her tentative brush of fingertips along the dip under his eye shot him to instant alertness. “Sorry. Your lashes looked so soft. Like butterfly’s wings.” She shrugged, feeling more than a little silly. “I tried to pet a bumblebee once.”
“How’d that work out?”
“As you might expect.”
He laughed and cuddled her closer, burrowing his nose into the side of her neck. “I love you, Marcia.”
The words were muffled by her skin, but she still heard them. Still felt their power all the way down to her blue polished toenails.
How long had she waited for him to say that? To know it was true?
His arms tightened around her when she didn’t answer. Goddammit. What was her problem? When it was so important for her to respond, she couldn’t coordinate her vocal cords.
She jerked him back from her, gripping his upper arms while she stared into his eyes and tried to say everything she had no voice to convey. The rigid lines of his face softened, worry giving way to a smile so bright she might’ve been blinded had she not chosen that moment to bury her face in his chest. “I love you too, with all of me. The bad, the good and everything in between.”
He stroked her hair, surrounding her with his warmth. “You’re not shaking.”
“No.” Not outwardly anyway.
“Not crying.”
“Why would I cry when I’m happy?” she asked, perplexed. Was that what most women did when moved to the heights of emotion? Maybe their ducts started up with the slightest provocation. She blinked just to be sure and shook her head. “No, eyes are dry. Sorry.”
With a laugh, he cradled her face in his palm and drew her mouth up to his. “My sweet, practical Marcia,” he said just before he swept his tongue between her lips and made her his all over again.
“Mostly practical,” she said a little breathlessly as they separated. She grasped his hand and pulled it to her stomach. “Except right here, where everything’s circling like drunk monkeys on bicycles.”
Again he laughed. “You have such a way with words. No wonder you decided to put pen to paper. Which reminds me.” He hooked an arm around her waist and jockeyed her forward so he could reach the notebook on the coffee table. “I want to read this,” he said when she opened her mouth.
“I… Okay.” She’d already climbed Mt. Everest and leapt to the ground in one jump. Sharing some words on a page was nothing in comparison. “Go ahead.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Just be gentle.”
He pinched her ass. “Like you ever like it gentle.”
“I did this time, didn’t I? We went slow and didn’t even— Oh my God.” She bobbled on his lap, almost toppling backward.
Alarmed, he dropped the notebook and grabbed her wrist. “What?”
“We didn’t use any sex toys. You didn’t bind my wrists. No athletic positions.” She couldn’t talk fast enough. “No anal.”
“Jesus Christ, you scared me.” But he was laughing, his eyes dancing as he stroked the side of her face. “It’s called making love. Something new for us.”
“Yeah.” She smiled and turned her cheek into his hand. “It was wonderful.”
“Damn straight.”
She chewed on her lower lip and hoped he didn’t think she was a deviant when she asked her next question. Probably too late there. “So, um, you can’t use toys or have anal when you make love?”
This time she expected his laughter. “God, I love you. More than I can say. You’re my everything.”
