Mattie's breathing had changed, and he knew what it signaled. It was the rapid progression from arousal to urgency to the precipice of release, and she was climbing again, faster this time because her body was already sensitized from her previous climaxes. Her movements became less controlled, more instinctive, and the loss of precision in her technique was, paradoxically, more effective than the controlled version had been, because of the rawness of it. The unguarded desperation was the most erotic thing he had ever experienced.
She was losing herself, and with it, the careful choreography of injury management and left-hand-only restrictions. Gone was the self-consciousness that she wore like a second skin, consumed by the overwhelming sensations, the connection, and the trust that made both possible.
Dimitri wanted to lose himself too, and he was close. The pressure was building at the base of his spine, and the tightening signaled the inevitable approaching climax, but he held back, waiting for her, because this was supposed to be simultaneous, and he was damned if he was going to finish first.
He increased the pace, and she responded by arching against him, and the arching changed the angle of her mouth, and the changed angle sent a bolt of lightning up his spine that nearly shattered his resolve.
Focus.
She was close. He could feel it in the tension of her thighs, the rhythm of her breathing, the small involuntary movements of her hips. She was right at the edge, and he applied the exact combination of pressure and pace that had worked the first time.
Mattie broke first.
She cried out around him, and the vibration of it was the thing that finally snapped his last string of control. The feedback loop completed its circuit, her climax triggering his, his amplifying hers, and Dimitri's brain short-circuited, and he stopped thinking completely.
It was magnificent.
When conscious thought returned, he found his hands still on her hips, but his grip was gentle now instead of urgent. Mattie's forehead was resting against his thigh, her breathing ragged and uneven.
Neither of them moved.
The silence was not empty, though. It was the kind of silence that followed an event that couldn't be described in words because words were inadequate.
Mattie stirred first. She lifted herself carefully, rotated slowly to avoid jostling her injured hand, and collapsed beside him on the bed, facing the ceiling. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair was a mess, and her eyes, when she turned her head to look at him, were luminous.
"Hi," he said.
"Hi," she answered.
"So that was a sixty-nine."
"Yeah. That was a sixty-nine."
She was quiet for a moment, and then a smile spread across her face, wide and incandescent. "Well, Dr. Volkov, for a first attempt, I'd say your results were well above baseline."
He laughed. It was the absurdity of her using scientific language to describe what they had just done, combined with the endorphins, and the sheer overwhelming joy of being alive and in love with this funny, brave, incredible woman.
"I appreciate the peer review," he managed.
"Would you like detailed notes? I can prepare a written evaluation."
"I prefer real-time feedback. It's more actionable."
She rolled onto her side, tucking her bandaged hand against her chest, and studied him with an expression that gradually shifted from playful to tender. She reached out with her good hand and touched his face, her fingers lightly tracing the line of his jaw.
"Thank you," she said.
"For what?"
"For trusting me with that. I know it was a big deal for you."
He caught her hand and pressed his lips to the back of it. "It was. But not in the way you think."
"What do you mean?"
He considered how to explain it, how to translate the internal experience into words that would convey what he'd felt without sounding either clinical or absurd. With Mattie, he usually found the right balance. She was the only person who understood hisneed for scientific precision and his emotional clumsiness and accepted both.
"I always thought the reason I didn't want to do that with anyone else was that I wasn't comfortable enough in the relationships I had," he said. "They didn't last long enough for that kind of intimacy to feel comfortable. But as you have just proved, the duration of the relationship is irrelevant when it's with the right person, when it means everything."
