Their gazes locked. His body jerked beneath her, urging her on.
She ran her hands over his chest, undulating her hips, listening to his moans and feeling powerful. “No one else will touch you like this.” She laid one hand over his heart. “Will love you like this.”
She bent forward and kissed his lips. That was a good angle. She stayed there, kissing him, as he took control, cupping her bottom with his huge hands and guiding her.
“Fuck, Sandrine. It feels so good.”
“You crave this, Dane,” she whispered in his ear. “You crave love. That five-year-old boy chasing after his brother. He wanted to be loved. I’m giving it to you so fully, so well, that you will never have to look for it again, never have to deny yourself again, never have to hide your heart again.”
Seated deep inside her. Racing to the finish line. Their sweat mingling. Her hand over his heart asshe rode him, destroyed him, as she ruined him for any other lover.
Staring into each other’s eyes, tangled together.
“In this moment, in this bed, we can heal the rift. The feud between our families, generations of bitterness and enmity here tonight, you and I, with our touch, our words, our bodies, we are a symbol of love and healing,” she said.
He’d never understood why people called itlovemaking. The act of sex wasn’t about love. It was about the giving and receiving of gratification. There was a goal in mind. A summit to reach. It was exertion, and skill. He was good at it, and he was proud of that.
But this was different. Her soft touch, her husky demands, her eloquent words, pierced his heart in a thousand places.
She made him want to believe that he could be something better, something more. She made him feel strong and powerful in a new way. Not physical prowess, not how long he could last, how many times he could make her come, though there was power and pride in that. No, the strength was in letting go.
Letting go of the expectation that he would fail her. That he would hurt her.
Believing that maybe they had a chance of making a life together. Coming together as equals.
She clutched his shoulders, fierce concentration on her face as she rode him, her back arched, the column of her neck exposed.
That cynical part of him started to whisperYes,she loves you while you’re inside her, but what about later?but he refused to listen.
He thrust up to meet her as she rode harder now, her breasts bouncing, jaw slack. He was nearly there. Using his thumb, he stroked her clitoris. “Now, sweetheart. Now.”
As her inner muscles clenched around his cock, and she moaned above him, he stopped holding back and pulled her hips down, thrusting inside her roughly, losing himself to the rush and rumble of pleasure.
She collapsed against his chest, and he held her there, rocking her in his arms. Whispering promises into her hair. That he wanted to hold her forever.
That she was made for him.
That he’d never let her go.
He pulled out and discarded the sheath, returning quickly to hold her close again. She felt like redemption. She felt like peace.
She lifted her head. “As a young girl I was always writing lists of unpredictable and thrilling occurrences, longing for adventure. And then it happened. You arrived in Squalton-on-Sea and I’ve never been the same. You don’t see yourself as a giving person, but you have given me a gift. You’ve shown me that I can be my own person and decide for myself who I want to be and who deserves my love. I know that deep down you care about me.”
“I do, Sandrine. This is all new for me. I don’t have the words yet.”
“That’s all right. I can wait.” She kissed his chin. “I love this dimple in your chin.”
“And I love your breasts.” He fondled them, filling his hands with her curves.
“Typical rake.”
He chuckled. “What can I say? The first moment I met you I fell madly in love with the sight of you in that transparent shift.”
“It’s a start,” she said with a smile. “You know it’s simply not true that the world would be a better place without you in it. The way you threw yourself into organizing the charity ball showed me that you care about the same things that I do.”
His plan had worked, then. The charity ball had been the key. Part of him realized that he’d enjoyed working so hard on a worthy goal. By the end he hadn’t been pretending at all.
“Your reaction to being threatened in an alley by three men with knives was to go after them and turn the tables. Treat your fear of not being able to love in the same way. Face it. Chase after it. Learn its dark secrets. Have a conversation with it, invite it into your heart on your own terms. Find a way to live with it, instead of allowing it to stop you from living. You can choose a different path in your mind, in your life, Dane.”