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For a moment in that bed, the small boy who had withstood the taunts of other children in his small Greek village because he had no father broke through Sandor’s adult armor. He needed to know he belonged.
He looked down at Ellie. “Do you want me inside you?” He stopped moving…stopped touching…and waited.
Her eyes fluttered open. The deep-blue green of the Mediterranean stared at him, shiny and damp with emotion. “Yes, Sandor, only you…inside me.”
How did she know those were the words he needed? How had she known to clarify…to use thatonly? That small child inside him, the one who had determined at an age so young he could no longer remember it to be everything others thought he was not—important, powerful, strong—that child knew that Sandor needed that wordonly . His being important to this woman was key to healing wounds he had refused to acknowledge were even there since before they ever left Greece for America.
“You belong to me, Ellie.”
“Yes.” Her gazed locked with his. “Only you.”
He surged inside her, feeling as if for the first time, he had come home. Her body jolted, clenched around him and then she climaxed with a scream as primal as any mating cry. He let her body soak all the joy from that moment it could before he began to move, building the momentum again with thrusts that sealed her as his own.
“Sandor…I can’t…it’s too much.”
He didn’t stop, but rotated his pelvis with each thrust. “You can, Ellie. Give me the gift of your pleasure. Come for me, my own.”
Her head went back, her heels dug into the mattress and she exploded as he found his own release. His arms barely had the strength to hold his weight off of her and when she tugged him down, he had no reserves to protect her.
She did not seem to mind, but mumbled sweet nothings against his neck, telling him how amazing he was, what an incredible lover, how strong, how perfect. She even told him he was beautiful and while he would never admit it out loud, he liked hearing all the praise from her sweet mouth. Even those words.
“I have to take care of the condom,” he muttered at some point.
She smiled, letting her arms slip to the bed and nodded. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“You know.”
“No, I do not.”
“For not trying to trap me.”
Did she really think him so weak he would resort to trickery to win his case? He had no need for tricks like that and with his background, even if he feared she would not come around otherwise, he would never use them.
Besides, she’d admitted she belonged to him.
When he came back into the bedroom after washing up, she was snuggled under the covers, barely conscious. She made no demur when he climbed into bed beside her.
He pulled her into his arms. “You belong to me, Ellie.”
“Sandor…”
“Do not deny it.” He rolled her onto her back and looked down at her. “You acknowledged my place in your life when we made love.”
Her blue-green gaze slid away from him, then she sighed and met his eyes. “I don’t deny that my body belongs to you, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to wear your ring, Sandor.”
So much for being barely conscious. She looked ready to fall asleep any second, but she was thinking clearly enough to argue.
Frustration roared through him at her words. “What does it mean then?”
“That I doubt I’ll ever let another man into my bed, but I don’t know if I can spend the rest of my life with you.”
What the hell was that supposed to mean? He sat up and glared down at her, the small light given off by the bedside lamp illuminating an unfathomable feminine expression. “If you will not give yourself to another man, how can you deny my place beside you?”
“I’m notdenying anything. Please believe me. I’m just not…just not confirming it.”
“Semantics.”
“No…Sandor…truth. I told you I needed time.”
“But after what we have just done—”
Her finger pressed against his lips to silence him. “It was wonderful, Sandor. The most special experience of my life. Please don’t ruin it by starting an argument.” Her eyes shone with a vulnerability he could not fight.
He nipped her finger gently in retaliation and she pulled it away, but not before he’d laved it with a healing tongue kiss. Still, he growled, “I am not the one arguing here.”
Were all women this confusing, or just her? He’d never spent much time trying to understand the workings of the female mind. The only one who had ever mattered enough to him was his mother and that relationship was in no way similar.
