“Awareness.”
He sent her a startled glance. He couldn’t quite interpret the look in her eyes, though. Did she believe? Or was she merely pandering to what she thought of as his dementia? “It was … a nightmare. I cannot speak for anyone else, but it was like that for me.”
She leaned down and brushed her lips along his chest and his cock instantly sprang to attention. “How?”
He swallowed a little convulsively. “I could not feel my body … at first. It was almost like waking in someone else’s body.”
She sat up and stared down at him. He had no trouble interpreting her expression that time, unfortunately. The pity in her eyes was enough to deflate his cock as quickly as the gods damned thing had risen.
Or mayhap it was merely the memory?
He did not like to think about it.
She lifted her hand, but instead of moving away, she lightly ran her fingers along his chest and torso. “And now?”
He swallowed with an effort. “I feel more than I ever did before.”
She settled her head on his shoulder. “Make love to me like you did the first time.”
He turned to her, searching her face. It was a test, he realized, feeling his hopefulness plummet again. With an effort he tamped it. He recalled every moment. If she did not think he did, then she was mistaken. He smiled faintly. “You undressed when you came in the room.”
“And you were already naked,” she said, smiling back at him.
He sat up abruptly and began to strip off his suit and boots. Chloe got up and moved across the room from him, waiting, watching him, and the uneasiness flitted through his mind that she did not mean to allow him to touch her, that she was only testing him to see if he recalled.
He settled back against the bed when he had shed his clothing, studying her. She stared back at him, wide-eyed, nervous as she had been then. “Is this your first time, dearling?”
She blushed … just as she had the first time. Looking down, she grasped the front opening of her suit and began to pull at it awkwardly, struggling because her hands were shaking. He watched her hungrily, wondering if she was deliberately reenacting that time or if she actually was nervous.
She looked scared when she finally lifted her head. “It’s my second time.”
Damon felt his chest tighten. “I cannot love you from over there, sweeting.”
There was awkwardness in her movements as she crossed the room and settled next to him, not the lack of grace, but a lack of confidence, anxiety, and even a little eagerness. He stroked her face lightly, remembering it with his fingertips. “You are more beautiful to me each time I see you.”
She smiled a little wryly. “You didn’t say that before.”
He chuckled, dipping low to pluck at her lips. “I could not say that when I had only just met you, sweeting. What did I say?”
He heard her swallow. “That I was beautiful.”
He smiled faintly against her lips. “I did not. I said that you were the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.”
She tried to pull away to look at him, but he slipped his fingers from her cheek to the back of her head and held her for his kiss. She yielded to him readily, not warily or gracelessly as she had before, but eagerly, with the certainty of experience. He almost thought he might have retained some control if she had displayed any of the hesitancy of before.
Then again, mayhap not. He struggled with his own eagerness, but he shook with the effort to hold himself back even a little. He tried to summon the finesse of his vast knowledge and experience and found his mind empty of everything but hunger. He wanted to savor as he built her ardor slowly, but found himself yielding to the driving need to consume her all at once, to fill his senses with her.
He didn’t hesitate when she spread her thighs for him in welcome. He did not tease her until she was pulling at him in demand. He found he could not align his body with hers fast enough to suit him, began to struggle to claim her the moment he had found her sweet spot. She gasped, arched against him as he fought his way inside her clinging flesh and alarm went through him. Gasping for breath, he jerked his head upward to see if he had hurt her, but the anguish on her face was the same he wore and had to fight a round with his body’s determination to come at once.
He shook with the effort until he had to grit his teeth together to keep them from rattling. He managed to command his will, thrusting into her and out again in a slow cadence, until she arched again, began to utter breathless little cries of ecstasy, until he felt her inner muscles quake around him. He gave up the effort then, angry with himself that he could not hold out longer and bring her to another peak, but cognizant of defeat.
It was a glorious defeat. He thought for many moments that his heart would stop, felt as if he was being turned inside out, and when his body finally ceased to convulse in pleasure, he was so weak he felt as if he was sinking toward death—and welcomed it. Panting, he struggled to tip himself off of her. Relief flooded him that he’d managed to fall on the bed instead of her. He groped for her blindly, dragged her across his chest, and passed out.
* * * *
Chloe lifted her head after a bit and stared at Damon’s face sleepily. Surprise flickered through her briefly when she discovered that he seemed to be asleep. After struggling with it for a few moments, though, she finally dismissed it. She was too weary herself, she decided, to figure it out at the moment. Snuggling more comfortably, she felt around for the cover, managed to tug it out from under his hip and pulled it over both of them.
She discovered she didn’t sleep particularly well with Damon in her bed. It wasn’t an especially happy discovery, particularly when it was a fantasy she had long held dear—imagining how nice it would be to have him to cuddle with her while they slept.
