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Erin’s heartbeat slowly returned to normal and she became aware of the moisture on her cheeks. She’d wept when she’d orgasmed? She’d never had that kind of reaction before. Mind you, she’d never felt quite like…that before.
“You okay?” Sam asked, his voice deep and steady.
“You have no idea,” she said, shifting so she could smile at him, reassure him that there was no sorrow in the tears she’d unknowingly spent.
Erin cupped his face with her hand and stroked away his concern. In that second, she knew she’d fallen irrevocably in love with Sam Thornton. It wasn’t the pleasure he’d brought her, although that was so welcome she wondered if she could ever settle for less. But it was his care, his consideration. Everything about him made her warm inside. A precious sensation, indeed, after months of being in the cold. Of functioning simply because she had to.
In light of her private admission, it was the most natural thing in the world to ease her body over his, to straddle his hips and to begin to lavish upon his body some of the attention he’d delivered to hers. To show him, even though she wasn’t yet brave enough to tell him, exactly how he made her feel. And then, as he trembled beneath her touch, to position his swollen flesh at her centre, to lower herself slowly on his length. A deep aftershock of pleasure rippled through her as she took him inside her, welcoming him into her body, into her very soul.
She rocked against him, and felt his answering thrust. Again and again and yet again until she was lost in a blur of stimulation, conscious only of the man beneath her and the rising tide of pleasure that swelled from that point where they joined. And then the ecstasy peaked, for him and for her, sending them both cascading into a rolling eruption of bliss so sweet she thought she might pass out from it.
Erin collapsed on Sam’s chest, their bodies now both slick with perspiration, their breathing labored, their hearts beating frantically, yet as one. As she gave herself over to the darkness, one thought filtered through her shattered mind. The emptiness that Sam had talked about earlier, and that had resonated so strongly with her, was gone.
She must have slept for half an hour or so. When she awoke her body still hummed with the residue of satisfaction. She stirred, realizing that at some stage during her slumber Sam had carefully moved her from on top of him to his side. He must have left the bed, too, however briefly, to dispense with the condom. Now, as she shifted slightly, he adjusted the strong curve of one arm around her to pull her more tightly to him.
This close, she was aware of every aspect of him. Of the shadow of his unshaven cheeks, of the way that the serious lines that usually bracketed his mouth and furrowed his brow during the day—lines that spoke of pain and unhappiness—had now relaxed into smoothness. Even of the scent of him, a mixture of warm skin and spice and essential male, sent her senses into a spiral of heightened consciousness, as if she was attuned to him and him alone.
She wanted to know him better, deeper, more. She already had a handle on what foods and drinks he enjoyed, and over the past week he’d talked a bit about growing up in New Zealand and his move to San Francisco, but to her, all that was peripheral. Suddenly, it was vital to know what made him laugh, what drove him each day—what made him happiest. What made him sad. She already knew losing his wife had plunged him into a dark place. Her hand drifted along his thigh, feeling again the ridge of tissue that still looked newly healed.
And it wasn’t his only scar, she noticed in the faded light cast by the bedside lamp. There were others. A neat line, still bearing traces of stitch marks, crossed his abdomen. Smaller, faint silver strikes that she hadn’t noticed before marked his forehead, and another one on his jaw—but it was more noticeable for the fact that no stubble grew there.
“Do I pass muster?” Sam asked, his voice a deep rumble by her ear.
“You’re beautiful.” She said it simply but she meant it with every beat of her heart.
She felt him shake his head. “Not beautiful, Erin. Never that.”
“I beg to differ,” she said, propping herself up on one elbow. She coasted her hand over the scars on his abdomen and his leg. “These are just marks that show the path of your journey so far.”
“They’re reminders of the selfish and arrogant man I used to be. That’s all.”
“I didn’t know that man. But I’m getting to know the one you are now, and I like him. A whole lot.”
Sam lifted a hand and cupped her face. “That’s good, because I like you, too. A whole lot.”
