When his mouth finally finds mine, the kiss is achingly gentle.A sharing of breath.A tasting of tears.
Then, one strong arm sweeps behind my back, the other under my knees, and he lifts me effortlessly.My arms instinctively wrap around his neck, clinging to his solid strength.
He carries me the few steps to the bed and lays me down, my hair fanning out against the pillows.He hovers over me for a moment, his expression a breathtaking mix of desire and awe.That potent want still burns in the depths of his eyes, but it’s tempered with a deep tenderness.He lowers himself beside me, propped on one elbow.
The mattress dips, bringing us closer.Moonlight catches the sculpted planes of his chest, the hard lines of his abdomen.I feel the aching void within me pulse with a desperate, answering need.My arm drifts upward to rest above my head on the pillow, an instinctive baring of myself to him.His fingers trace the curve of my hip then follow my raised arm to the delicate inner skin, leaving a current of pure heat in their wake.
“Amy,” he breathes.
Just my name, spoken like that, is enough to make me melt.
His lips follow the path his fingers just charted.Starting at my wrist, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses against the frantic pulse there.Then down the sensitive skin of my inner arm to the curve of my neck… my shoulder…
Each kiss is a brand.A discovery.A silent vow.
My hands find the smooth plane of his back, learning the flex and dip of muscle there.Fingers spread wide, then tangle in the hair at his nape, pulling him fractionally closer.A silent plea for more.He answers it, his mouth finding the hollow of my throat, lingering, tasting, while his hand continues its reverent exploration over the swell of my breast, then dips lower, tracing the line of my ribs, the gentle curve of my stomach…
A shiver racks my body.A gasp escaping my lips as his touch ventures lower still, his fingers grazing the delicate edge of lace.
“Matt,” I whisper.A broken, needy sound.
His head lifts, eyes dark pools of molten desire in the moonlight, searching mine.When he recaptures my mouth, his kiss is deep, intoxicating, and utterly consuming.
My breath comes in short, sharp gasps.
I arch against him, a silent offering, and he responds, his body covering mine.A perfect, welcome weight.
Our bodies find their own rhythm, a language older than time.
A fierce, tender collision of souls.
A healing.A claiming.An utter surrender.
Every touch is a vow; every shared breath a revelation.
In the moonlit stillness of his bedroom, there is only this.
Only Matthew.
Only this breathtaking, consuming fire.
And in this shared inferno—
We burn.
FORTY FIVE
THIS HAPPENED.
He happened.
For a timeless moment, I drift, suspended in the soft cocoon of the duvet.The earlier inferno now a gently glowing ember.My body feels boneless, exquisitely tender, every inch humming with the memory of Matthew’s touch.
I blink slowly, eyes adjusting to the shimmer of moonlight painting the room.It illuminates Matthew’s profile, peaceful beside me.The fierce intensity is gone, replaced by a boyish vulnerability in the relaxed set of his features and the disarray of his dark hair.He’s deeply asleep, his breathing even and slow, one arm flung out as if reaching for me even in his dreams.His hand rests near mine on the sheet.For a breath, my fingers twitch with the urge to bridge the small gap, but the need to preserve this fragile peace wins out.
My heart swells with an emotion so potent, so overwhelmingly tender, it feels too large for my chest.
The fears, the doubts, the specter of James… they all feel distant, muted by the profound sense of safety, ofrightness, that envelops me here.These feelings are too vast, too new.A beautiful, bewildering mix of gratitude and a dawning, fragile hope.
