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The first time he threw her over that cliff, she cried out. The second time, she screamed.

“I swear to God,” Ruthie panted, then. “If you don’t—”

“One more first,” Dallas said, a dark mutter against her skin. He raked his teeth down the line of her neck. “I believe in you, Ruthie.”

He used his fingers, deep. He got his thumb right where she liked it.

And that time, she made a deep, low sound that almost made him lose control of himself right there.

Only then, while she was still shaking and sobbing, did he thrust deep inside her at last.

And she made another noise, so dirty and needy that he almost lost it once again.

But he refused.

He forced himself to go slow. To find that pace that had always driven her straight out of her head, and he kept at it.

Dallas kept that rhythm, intense and so slow. So achingly slow that it made her dig her heels into his back and arch up to meet every single one of his thrusts. Better yet, it got her making all of those greedy, mindless, beautiful noises that he’d missed.

God, how he’d missed this. He was surprised he could tolerate hearing her make those sounds again now.

All of this hurt, in the best way. It was them, again. It felt new, and it felt as if they’d never been apart.

It felt impossible, and inevitable, all at the same time.

It felt like Ruthie, back where she belonged, at last.

Dallas could tell when she was chasing the edge of that cliff once more, and that was good, because he didn’t know how much longer he could last.

But he figured that he would die before he left her hanging. He sped up, going a little deeper, a little harder.

And she was thrashing around beneath him, her grip so hard on his shoulders that he was surprised he didn’t bruise up immediately. He was sure that she’d leave marks.

When she clenched all around him this time, Ruthie made a keening sound that shot straight through him. It was like gasoline on an open flame, roaring through him.

It catapulted him straight off that cliff behind her.

And for an eternity or so, they simply shuddered around each other. Maybe she was sobbing. He wasn’t sure he wasn’t, and he didn’t care.

Dallas held on to her, so close it was hard to tell her skin from his. So close and still not close enough. It was never close enough.

It took a long time for their breathing to change. When it did, he pulled out of her even though it made both of them sigh a little. Then he shifted his weight to the side and held her close.

And it was only when she smiled up at him and whispered the word insatiable again that he realized that some part of him had thought that maybe, just maybe, doing this would bring those memories back.

But he could see no hint of any dawning recognition in her gaze.

She looked no different than she had before. Like insatiable was just a story he’d told her.

And that was okay. Dallas let that settle deep inside him.

This was okay. This was who they were now. This was who they got to be, and as far as he was concerned, this was pretty damn good. About as close to perfect as he could imagine.

Here he’d thought they’d never have anything like this again.

He shook off the grip of those expectations he probably shouldn’t have had in the first place. She was right—they’d been dating. They talked a lot more now. They spent time together without it always being about sex. She fit, here in his arms and here in his bed and here in his life.

This was good, he thought. Dallas believed that.