And as he entered her slowly, she knew this was nothing like she’d known before.
Knowing Emerson was the one was as wonderful as it was terrifying. Her true love. She’d go the rest of her life knowing he’d been the one.
And as her flesh stretched to accommodate him, she absorbed the magic of it. It was right. It was forever.
Even if it wasn’t.
She exhaled a small cry, and he paused, not quite fully seated. “Are you all right?”
His face hovered above hers in the shadows. She could barely see the flicker of candlelight in his eyes. “Yes.”
“Does it hurt?”
Just her heart. “No.” She tightened her arms around his back, and lower, his buttocks, drawing him into her.
The look in his eyes rewarded her. A look filled with passion and something beyond pleasure.
Something that matched the feelings in her.
“I want this.” He slid out, leaving her empty. “I want you.” He filled her again.
“Yes.” She lifted her hips, and the thought struck her that they’d never danced with one another.
Until now.
To this ancient rhythm—unique to the two of them and yet as old as time.
Perhaps this was morally wrong for more reasons than she could count. But it was right for a thousand more.
And with each thrust, each touch and kiss, layer after layer was removed until they were simply two physical beings, two souls becoming one, and nothing else.
“Sweet, sweet, sweet,” Hunt murmured against her skin, which was as soft as a butterfly’s wings. The wet heat of her inner flesh surrounded him and drew him deeper, harder.
She’d surrendered. Finally. Did this mean she was his? It had to.
Didn’t it?
Later. Later they’d go back to that. It wasn’t even a conscious thought.
The desire to close his eyes warred with his need to watch her. He wanted to watch her mouth open and gasp at his intrusion, the soft flush on her cheeks, her breasts, her nipples pink and pointed up between his fingers as he rolled the soft flesh in his hands.
All the while, his hips moved.
He wasn’t her first lover, but he would be her last.
Harnessing his most primitive urges to draw out their joining, he watched her lips.
She was a walking contradiction. Would he ever understand her? He’d spend all his life trying.
“I’ll make you happy, sweet.”
Her eyes opened, and she met his stare. “You already have.” She thrust her hips. “Please, I want everything. I want all of you.”
If he wasn’t already broken, he’d have broken then.
He dropped his head and allowed every urge to break free, driving them to another level of chaos, need, want, and hunger.
Her nails dug into his back, her teeth gnashed against his, and he relished in her unleashed passion.
