She was naked in his arms, the silken crush of her lush curves a delicious relief against the hard planes of his body. She was smiling up at him, tracing the shape of his collarbone, and his heart ached at the sight of her. That she existed at all was a miracle; that she cared for him seemed impossible. What had he done to earn the love and affection of an angel?
When he expressed these feelings aloud she often laughed, accepting his adoration as a tender exaggeration; she had no idea how much he held back, how much more he wanted to say. He was in fact so in awe of her he could hardly breathe in her presence, and when she playfully nudged his chin upward with her nose, stretching to kiss the underside of his jaw, he thought his chest might cave in.
“You’re awake,” she said, drawing back to look at him.
“You’re here,” he breathed.
She laughed at that, then bit her lip, and her eyes were so joyous and beautiful the sight caused him physical pain. She noticed this change in him, and her happiness dimmed.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing,” he said, even as he felt the rise of something fevered inside him,his heart threatening to beat through his chest. With great care he took her face in his hands and marveled at the feel of her, the glorious sight of her. He was enchanted by everything: not just her deep, limpid eyes, but the delicate arches of her brows, the fine shape of her nose, the soft pout of her lips. More extraordinary was that her beauty was but a vessel, physical majesty forged for a soul so tender it defied description.
“When you’re here,” he said, “nothing is wrong.”
Her wry, responding smile said she didn’t believe him, but she was merciful enough to spare him an interrogation. Slowly she turned her head, pressing a kiss to his palm, the pleasure of which he experienced with a sharp pang.
“Sad boy,” she said softly. “What am I supposed to do with you?”
He stared at her mouth, the soft line of her jaw, the swell of her breasts against his chest. Her very proximity inspired in him a feeling of exhilaration so profound it left him dizzy. He dragged his eyes upward, meeting her gaze with a need that scared him. “Anything.”
She almost laughed.
But Cyrus was shaken, watching her with a hunger he couldn’t fathom into words. “You could probably kill me and I’d thank you for it.”
She stiffened and drew back. “Don’t say that,” she said sharply. “That’s not funny.”
“I’m not joking.”
“Cyrus –”
“I want it all, angel. Not just your joy but your sorrow. Not just your hope but your fear.I want your anger and disdain, your frustration and contempt –”
She made a breathless sound. “I wouldnevertreat you with contempt.”
“I know,” he said, sweeping his thumb along the crest of her cheek, his eyes following the gentle motion. He was hardly able to stay the tremor in his hands, or in his voice. “But I know, too, that you’ll always do what is just. You’d never deliver me your scorn unless I deserved it, and should I be foolish enough to inspire your anger, I should also be honored to receive it.”
She stilled, her lips parting in surprise.
She looked suddenly vulnerable as she shook her head, her eyes glistening with an evidence of feeling that seemed to gouge a hole in him.
“I love you,” she whispered.
Always, this rendered him speechless.
Finally she smiled, small at first, then mischievous as she crawled on top of him and straddled his hips. He made a sound deep in his throat, his eyes closing as her weight settled against him; and then she slid her hands down his torso and he sucked in a breath, the collective pleasure so acute it rivaled agony.
She bent to kiss his brow, his closed eyes. She drew the tip of one finger down the sharp slope of his nose, and he opened his eyes in time to see that her cheeks were flushed. “So gorgeous,” she said softly.
These words caused him nothing but anguish. He stared up at her, his mind detaching from reason as he drank in the sight of her naked body.He wanted to live here, with his face pressed against her, to breathe only in her atmosphere. He ran his unsteady hands up her back, terrified by the storm of emotion gathering inside him.
He feltwild.
She adjusted herself against him and he stiffened, gritting his teeth as he swore. She laughed, but he could feel her – could feel her own desire gathering between them. He was impossibly taut, afraid to move even an inch against her, and she gasped, suddenly, as he flipped her on her back, pinning her languid body beneath him. She was softness everywhere, silken skin catching his hard edges, and he shifted his weight, careful not to crush her. Her lips were still parted on a breath, her eyes darkening with hunger as she stared up at him. He felt the heat of her gaze along his body, then the sound she made when he touched her, stroking her sensitive skin with a featherlight caress. Her low moan set his blood ablaze.
He loved all of her: the shape of her lips, her hips, her slender hands and the freckle at the base of her throat. He’d kissed that freckle a thousand times, had spent countless hours learning her, loving her, discovering the desires of her body. It didn’t matter how many nights he’d spent in her arms. Always, in her presence, he felt himself coming apart with a need that felt a great deal like madness.
He devoted himself now to kissing her neck, then lower, soothing the heavy curves of her, first with his hands, then his mouth. Her body trembled under his careful, focused attentions until she cried out, the sound of her unbound pleasure branding inside him,driving him to the edge of his self-control. He pressed his face to her neck, fighting for restraint as his heart beat violently against his ribs.
