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Her own hands were moving, too, mapping his body as he’d mapped hers, shaping him into her memory, swimming between amazement at what his fingers and mouth were doing to her and how brilliant a creation his body was. She couldn’t even remember what it felt like to touch Ricki, but she would remember each angle and dip of Edge’s body until she died. Which felt like it would happen very soon because what he was doing to her was unbearable...unbearably unbearable, but beautiful.
He was right—it was beautiful. She was beautiful. And coming apart. This could not be safe. At the peak of the wave she tried to fight her way back to safety, her legs trying to close, her nails sinking into his back. But it was too late, she heard his voice against her ear, his breath warm like the desert wind.
‘I know, Sam. Let go, sweetheart, let it happen. Trust me.’
So she let it happen, let go of the cliff face, but she didn’t fall—she floated, a great wave was raising her and all she had to do was... She cried out and lost her hold and fell apart into sweet, honeyed pleasure.
‘Edge...oh, no...’
She felt his laugh against her throat as she floated down from bliss, but also the muscles of his back quiver under her hands. She didn’t want him to be tense when she felt so very, very blissful so she stroked his back to the rhythm of her body’s slowing pulse, soaking up his tension—the bunching of muscles as he held himself above her, the sharp angles of his shoulder blades that shifted as she traced them, the ridging of his spine and then the rise of his buttocks.
She wanted to see him, but she hadn’t the energy to open her eyes.
She wanted to feel him inside her, at the centre of this slowly pulsing heat with its memory of pleasure.
That thought woke her a little. She’d never liked it when Ricki pushed inside her, but now she wanted all the tension knotting Edge’s back and legs connected to her, she wanted to feel his release against her just as he’d felt hers.
Why wasn’t he doing anything?
She woke further, opened her eyes and met his. They weren’t blank now. The ocean was in full storm and populated by sea dragons. The grooves beside his mouth were dark slashes beneath the carved granite of his cheekbones.
‘Why did you stop?’ Her voice was fuzzy and his head dipped a little.
‘I don’t want...to hurry you.’ His voice wasn’t fuzzy, it was choked. ‘You’re tired. It has been a long...week. There is no reason to hurry.’
Hurry?
Her mind was thoroughly awake now. Didn’t he want to...no, his arousal was hard and pulsing against her thigh—there was no doubt he wanted to consummate the union . As for being considerate, well, that was carrying chivalry several leagues too far. Surely he could not mistake she had enjoyed...more than enjoyed herself. She had never comprehended that such pleasure was within her reach merely by the wave of a hand. What a horrid waste of time. Now the very last thing she wanted was to deny him what he’d given her.
‘I’m not tired. Don’t you wish...?’ She searched for the words and suddenly he groaned, resting his forehead against hers. It was as damp and hot as his body.
‘Yes, I wish. Blast it, Sam.’
‘Then stop cursing me and do something about it, you stubborn lug.’
His laugh was choked as he shifted, sinking between her legs, sliding one hand under her thigh to raise it. His hard heat pressed into her and she angled her hips to take him in as she had learned to do to make Ricki’s entry less painful. But unlike Ricki’s swift grunting thrusts, Edge entered her with excruciating slowness, as if savouring every inch of the voyage. She had never experienced this before—the slow coming together, the way her body gathered him in, the sensation of his thighs against hers, her body adjusting, shifting to take him in deeper and deeper. Then he stopped and for a moment they stayed just like that. And then with a sigh she raised her behind and rocked against him lightly. Just testing.
His head was leaning against hers, his breath on her ear, and he caught her lobe between his teeth, his words a hiss against the sensitive hollows of her ear.
‘Don’t, one move and I’m finished. I don’t want to finish. Ever.’
‘One move? Like this?’
‘Sam...’
He gave up restraints as if the cords holding him were torn. She held on as he moved inside and against her, his mouth against her, the words muffled, just her name rising as he climaxed as well. When he sank down on top of her she wrapped her arms around his back and let herself drift.
My husband.
It wasn’t terrifying any longer. Perhaps tomorrow it would be again, she thought half-absently as the world faded away, but right now it made perfect sense.
