Her heart stuttered.
August’s features strained from the intensity of emotion she did not recognize. So foreign it scared her.
That pulsing was so great. It called to her. And she lifted her hips into it but did not want to leave from whatever this was. What?What? She wanted to beg for him to explain. But he had stolen her words. Reduced her to fragments and fragmented thoughts.
“You are…the most beautiful thing I have beheld in this world, Meghan.” He charted her face, the way he did oceans. “I would trade the seas for you.”
Tossing her head back, she screamed his name. “August!”
She shattered. Who knew breaking could be so wonderful?
Bucking and thrashing in the bath, she screamed his name. Meghan sobbed. “Yes. Yes! Yesss!” He held her, and she clung to him, riding his fingers. Riding this thunderous tide.
A blinding white light burst behind her eyes.
“I love you,” she wept.
She waited for August to weep.
How had the entire world not already erupted in sobs at such splendor?
And then, with a final gasp, Meghan sagged against the side of the bath.
August placed a tender kiss along her brow. That kiss was so gentle, so sweet, that it brought tears to her eyes.
Meghan lay replete against the back of the bath. Her breath and lungs and thoughts tried to meet in some measured plane.
When she could finally breathe, she opened her eyes—to find August watching her.
“August,” she murmured.
“Yes, love?”
“I am in the clouds.”
She felt his breath against her brow. Felt his smile. Felt his kiss before his lips touched her skin. Felt all of him.
“Are you in them?” he asked. “Or coming down from them?”
“Mmm,” she said tiredly. “Both?”
He chuckled. “It cannot be both, and since you are not certain, I must deliver you to the clouds once more.”
In one sweeping glide, August lifted her from the bath.
There went the rest of the water.
She curled against the whorl of curls on his chest, rubbing her cheek against him. She really did love them very much.
She loved him more. Her throat worked rhythmically.
August set her down like she might break and there could never be another Meghan.
Straightening at the bedside, August stared at her. She knew because she felt it, but her eyes were on him and his trousers. And the moment he shoved them down and kicked them aside and revealed his length. Tall? So tall as it jutted high from amidst a sprig of golden curls that his root touched the flat of his belly.
Tall? Meghan swallowed slowly. Or was it long?
Either way, it was very, very thick. And…
