He kissed her then, soft and slow at first, then faster, more pressure; finally a lovely combination of soft but also demanding. Drew’s mind began to float. She felt another fissure of pleasure, a warmth. The wonderful, demanding burn began again, pooling in her center. Next, the need. Before she realized, her hips began to move.
“Thank God,” Lachlan growled against her lips. He dipped lower to suck on her breast, and the pleasure became a fully formed, all-encompassing thing, like diving into a pool.
She called his name, but he answered only, “Careful,” and kissed her.
Careful?she repeated in her head, wondering what hemeant. But then she stopped thinking, she could only feel. He’d begun to move, meeting her thrusts. Small at first, then harder, then powerful and deep, pumping with a force that both thrilled and beckoned her. The harder he drove, the more she wanted.
She was just about to call out his name when it happened... some unknown trigger in her body clicked to, and all of the building and burning culminated in a firestorm of ecstasy and light and bits of her consciousness launching into the air. She gasped and cried out in the same breath, she dug her fingers into his hair and pulled, she went taut, she hovered, she floated on every last sensation, not knowing when they would end. She blinked up, seeing nothing but fuzzy pleasure.
Finally, when the eruption seemed to pulse away, she slowly, pleasantly, sank into the mattress, still clutching his head.
“That,” he said lowly, “was the finish, I believe.”
“Oh,” she said.
After a beat, she whispered, “So, we’ve finished?”
“No,” he said. “Only you have done. I am—”
He stopped talking and thrust. “Is this alright?” he rasped.
“Oh yes,” she assured him, beginning to comprehend. She pressed up a little, encouraging him. He met her thrust, and then the next, and then the next; and then he pumped into her with an abandon that Drew found wild and thrilling and all the proof she would ever need that he desired her. At least in that moment.
His finish was accompanied by a guttural shout, a hard kiss, his head thrown back, and a final thrust. She felt him empty inside her, felt his consciousness hover just as hers had. Then she felt him collapse. He draped on top of her and gathered her up, burying his face in her hair.
Drew paused for a moment, trying to carefully catalog and interpret everything that had just happened. But her mind was spinning; she could not catalog or interpret. She could only rest in a shallow sort of float-like state. Absently,she wrapped her arms around him and held him, a sweet, possessive, intimate gesture that she liked almost as much as every other intimate thing they’d done.
She stared at the ceiling, wanting to freeze time.
It was very stupid of me to pine for spinsterhood.
Her heart pounded, and every beat said the same thing,I’ve fallen in love.I’ve fallen in love. I’ve fallen in love.
Finally, he raised his head. He blinked at the headboard. He jostled.
“I’m crushing you,” he said.
“No,” she said, but she loosened her hold.
He tipped to the side, sliding from her, but he kept an arm draped loosely around her waist. They lay face-to-face. Her hair spilled a fan of orange across the bed.
“Well,” he said. He settled his head on a pillow and looked at her.
“Well,” she repeated. She felt suddenly very aware of her nakedness.
“Now you blush?” he asked.
“Oh, I feel sure I blushed... throughout?”
“You did, actually. You were glowing. But are you cold?”
“A little,” she said. Now that her arms and legs were no longer entwined with his, the chill of the room had begun to encroach.
She felt very exposed, lying naked beside him. She scooped up a hank of her hair and dropped it over her shoulder, covering her breasts.
He rose up to tug a quilt from the foot of the bed and spread it over her. She was warmer, and covered, but his arm was gone. He was outside the covers and she was in. It felt terribly separate.
“Are you hurt?” he asked. His tone had changed. He sounded more like the Lachlan of their daily lives, the erratic employer, cordial but blunt.
