No. I was sure. I wanted him to hold me. I wanted him to make me feel less alone, if only for a little while.
Barely breathing, I waited. I heard soft footfalls on the stairs, definitely Edward’s. No intruder would leave his boots at the door to keep from tracking in mud, but these footfalls came from socks. They paused at the top, then started quietly down the hall.
He opened my door and stood for a beat before whispering my name. Hushed as the sound was, I heard its question.
“Yes,”I answered, my own whisper a plea. Yes, I was awake. Yes, I wanted him here.
Approaching the bed, he was a dark silhouette, a ghosted shape in theambience of that full moon. He hunkered down beside me. “Are you okay?”
I shook my head. Then I held out a hand. The instant he took it, I felt relief. I wanted to ask why he had come, but didn’t dare. Coward that I was, I couldn’t risk not liking the answer.
“You’re freezing,” he said and, sitting on the side of the bed, began chafing my hand between his two. The warmth was heavenly. So was the strength of those bigger-than-my hands.
I tugged on those hands. “Lie with me—just a little?” When he made to crawl over and stretch out on top of the duvet, I opened the covers instead.
Butt and legs came first. “Turn over,” he whispered as the rest of him scooted in. He held me spooned then, knees behind mine, one arm around my middle, the other pillowing my neck, and his chin in my hair. It was comfortable. It was familiar. No matter that we were both fully dressed—perhaps because of it—thiswas heavenly.
I don’t know how long we lay there. I matched my breathing to his—used to do that all the time, and the rhythm returned, like we had never been apart. I covered his hands with my own, one at my waist, one at my neck. Twice, he drew free, once to tuck a strand of hair behind my ears, once to wrap his forearm across my upper chest in a spontaneous hug.
I might have been fine lying like that forever, if he hadn’t used his hand again, this time to move the hair away from my neck to allow for a nuzzling kiss. Suddenly I saw his words on the face of my phone.I do. Love you. I tried not to, but how do you stop something like that?
I needed to be loved. Didn’t matter whether I deserved it. Just then, I needed it more than air.
Reaching back, I used my hold of his head to help me turn, and, grabbing his bearded jaw, I brought his mouth to mine. That was it—all I had to do—the sign he wanted. His kiss was thorough, and when it was done, he drew back for barely a breath before coming in for another. He touched my face and wove his fingers into my hair. He mouthed his way downmy throat and chest, removing clothing as he went, so that when he reached my breasts, they were bare and aching.
What followed was light-years removed from what we had done last week. That had been angry and fast. I had resented the physical attraction and wanted to get it out of my system once and for all. Okay. Fine. Part of it might have been pent-up need. But lots of it was wanting to punish Edward for messing with my new life. That sex hadn’t been pretty. In my right mind, I hadn’t wanted it.
This I did. This was about being as close to another human being as was physically possible.
Frantic to hold and be held, I kept my arms around him, kept my hands running over whatever of his skin that allowed. The heat of his body was what I craved. Had I been able to disappear inside him, I would have.
Too quickly, his heat became mine, and I wanted more. I’m not quite sure I had ever appreciated the sweep of his cheekbone the way my lips did now, or admired his clavicle as my fingers did. I had certainly never before had facial hair to compare to the hair on his chest or his legs. I’m not sure I had ever been quite this dizzied by the nutty scent of his skin.
His pulse was the best. It meant life, and life was what I needed. I found its rapid beat at the side of his neck and buried my face there. I found it inside his elbow and even more strongly at his groin. I was licking the thrum at the back of his knee when he brought me to my first climax. It was barely done when he flipped us around and entered me, and the mind-numbing went on.
Edward Cooper was virility incarnate. I had always thought him so, whether wearing a suit and tie or a T-shirt and jeans. But here and now, with his dark, close-cropped beard carrying my scent, with his long body naked and hungry, with his hands knowing just how to hold and caress, and the rest of him dispelling what little remained of my loneliness with closeness and fire, hewasmy air.
I was in the last throes of a shattering climax when I felt him approach his. I could tell from his breathing, from the small catch in his throat.
Given a moment’s lucidity, I gasped in warning, “Not inside!”
“Yes!”
“Not safe—”
“I want—”
“Please.”
He pulled out. His body jacked, and he held his breath for the longest time before breaking into long, throaty gasps. Then he collapsed on me.
I couldn’t move, could barely breathe. But I wrapped my arms around his sweaty back and held him, so that he wouldn’t leave. His weight grounded me.
Finally, he slid to the side and drew me under his arm, holding my body flush to his with a hand at my hip. “I’m staying,” he whispered.
I didn’t argue. My cheek was on his chest, one leg wound through his. I wasn’t about to move, and it had nothing to do with the part of him that my thigh touched, the part that was no longer erect yet still impressive. It had to do with his warmth, his scent, his pulse.
I didn’t fall asleep. Nor did he, said his steady, sturdy pulse.
