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He should carry her.
One of the many things he finds himself incapable of performing in his current condition.
His failures disappear from his mind when they’re on the bed, clothes stripped, and under the covers. He fists her hair, giving her neck the perfect angle, kissing every inch of her neckline down to her perfect breasts. Sucking and flicking her nipple with his tongue, her moans of pleasure guide him, tracing his fingers along her stomach, lower, and between her legs. She arches her back and whispers his name, a desperate plea from her lips. She takes his shoulders and encourages his lips to meet hers once more. Her hands wrap around his body, running her fingers over a thin frame. Lining himself, he eases inside her, takes both of her hands, and holds them beside her head. Eden’s pleasure is all he wants to see without her eyes portraying worrying thoughts as fingertips trace over every rib.
“I love you,” she whispers.
Samuel thrusts harder and faster, and Eden cries out, her legs wrapping around his thighs, her heels pressing into his muscles. Every skin cell tingled, every neuron fired, he’s lost to her. Every right or wrong decision has led to this moment, to this joy he feels with Eden, all concern evaporating from his thoughts.
The discipline he learned in Ulara is lost to animal instinct, even from the moment he saw her on the beach in Salvador. For months, he ignored the pull she created like the moon’s gravitational force on the ocean. With the certainty of the tide rolling onto the shore every day, Eden wasn’t going away. She affected his life.
She’s his weakness and heart source in one. She terrified and excited him equally. There’s no getting the upper hand. Eden rules his heart, and he’d do anything to be with her, the one constant in his life.
She calls out, and he smothers her mouth with his, kissing her as he thrusts until the high of his orgasm blinds him. A shudder rips through him, his muscles burn with pain, and he collapses over her. Easing his grasp on her hands, she pulls away, wrapping her arms tightly around his body.
After a few minutes, his breathing slows. “I love you,” he finally responds when the fatigue fades. “More than anything.” It sounds lame, only he’s unable to focus, and all he wants to feel is her. Like most nights, exhaustion sets in quickly. Like a drain, energy gushes out of him. He positions himself beside her, wraps an arm around her waist, and closes his eyes. He drifts into sleep, aware of her hands moving over his skin as though she’s making an invisible map, touching his hips and every rib before coming to rest on his chest over his heart.
Naturally, she’s concerned about his weight loss. If it were her, he’d also be worried. He can’t afford to be vulnerable. He needs the upper hand, and proving he’s fine helps him to believe it to be true.
Masking the truth isn’t a lie.
* * *
His throat tightens when he cries out.
A strangled noise.
He can’t breathe.
Lifting blood-stained hands, he looks around, terrified. What happened? His heart pounds hard against his ribs. “Eden,” he yells again, only she’s lying on the ground lifeless.
The shaman beside her.
“Nooo,” he wails. “Please, no.”
“Samuel.”
Gentle shaking.
“Samuel,” a beautiful voice calls to him. “It’s okay, honey.”
His chest weighs heavy as though a crate of lead is on top of him, and he can’t take a breath.
“You’re safe.”
His eyes flutter open and search the darkness. His vision adjusts to her silhouette leaning over him.
“It’s just a bad dream. You’re fine.”
He attempts to swallow and moisten his dry throat. “Sorry.” He blinks several times. What time is it? “Did I wake you?”
Soft fingers stroke his forehead. “You were having a nightmare.”
Samuel closes his eyes to allow his head to clear.
“Do you have them often?” she whispers.
“No.” The first here in Australia. Every second night when he was in the jungle—lost—afraid he’d never see her again.
