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‘And you are being far too forgiving. You must have wished me at the devil at least once a day when I was at Bab el-Nur.’
‘At least. Almost as often as you wished me there.’
‘Definitely more than once a day.’ He laughed as he leaned over to blow out the lamp, the only light now a faint glow from outside, like a distant torch.
Edge’s hand was brushing softly over the curve of her shoulder and she no longer had to force her eyes shut. It felt good, like the warm desert wind or the music weaving through the wooden shutters. She hummed the memory of that music, deep and haunting.
‘Yes, that was it...as if the night sky was singing,’ he murmured and eased her over on her stomach, his hand stroking gently down her back. ‘Don’t stop.’
It felt so good, just the sweep of his hand, like waves flowing and receding. She wanted to feel it directly on her skin. She wanted to feel his warmth closer to her. She wanted...
He took his hand away and she squirmed.
‘Don’t stop.’
‘I’m not. It will be more comfortable like this.’ He raised her and with complete casualness he slipped off her chemise and lay her down again, pulling the cotton sheet over them. She should have felt embarrassed or scared, but the fear didn’t come. She was even a little disappointed when he didn’t pull her to him, but only stretched beside her and continued stroking her back in long, languid motions.
He was right. It was so much better like this, though ‘comfortable’ was not the right word. It was soothing, blissful, warm and warming. She’d never thought of her back as anything more than...her back. Now, like an ignored feline suddenly getting all the stroking attention after years of living in the wild, she was luxuriating under his hands, arcing and stretching and seeking more. And all the other parts of her were becoming envious.
She turned to try to capture the trail of his sweeping fingers, her behind tingling each time his hand swept within reach and then away. Her shoulders curved, her arm rising in hope his fingers would slide under and over towards where her breasts felt suddenly full, the spears of lightning no longer painful but urgent. She was a constellation of new stars revolving around a growing sun of heat and darkness at her core—a new centre of tension, very different from what held her back, but just as frightening. It was a pulsing beating of drums, just like the music still humming through her.
‘Are you sleepy?’ His lips feathered over her shoulder-blade and a flame licked up the right half of her body.
Sleepy? Sleepy?
‘No. Don’t stop.’
‘I won’t.’ His hand was freer now, not stopping at the limits of her back, venturing to slide into the dip of her waist, over her hip, just brushing the line between her and the bed and sending darts of heat and need along her abdomen. It was utterly foreign and yet utterly right.
Then it retreating to the slopes of her back again before venturing lower again, curving over her backside and stopping. His hand was large and warm and she felt it shake a little and could feel his breathing, too, had changed. He wasn’t as calm as he wished her to believe and she smiled against her pillow. She no longer wanted him calm. She shifted, arching her backside a little into his palm, and heard him breath in and out. Then his hand continued.
It was a sweet, building agony and she didn’t want it to end. She was lit up inside and out, soothed and excited and desperate to move and wanting to stay just as she was, revered like this for ever and ever. She wasn’t humming any longer, or she was, but a different hum—a mixture of murmurs and moans that she didn’t try to stem because she felt their impact on him. His breathing was deeper, audible, his hand losing its finesse, tightening on her hip. His leg came to be pressed against hers as well, as exciting as the pressure of his hands. Then he buried his face against her nape and took a deep breath before moving away completely.
‘Goodnight, Sam.’ His voice was raw and her eyes flew open.
‘Goodnight?’
‘That’s the limit of my self-control. I think we should stop now and... Sam...’ her name sank into a groan as she turned over, her leg sliding against his ‘...there is no need to rush...’
‘Hush...’ She kissed his throat, from the silk beneath his ear to the roughness of stubble along his jaw. He tasted so good, so very good. And his mouth... Her body was still humming, hungry for the contact he’d withdrawn. She moved closer, sighing against his lips as her breasts pressed against his arm and chest.
‘It’s like lying on sun-warmed granite...’ Without thinking she rubbed herself against him a little, luxuriating in the slide of skin on skin. She’d never realised how good that could feel—their bodies sparking against each other like living flints. A sharper, hotter spark drew her even closer, her leg rising over his.
