“I don’t think I’ll ever be cold again.” Fresh desire began to tingle within her. “Caleb—” Her breath caught on a fast, hot shudder. “You make me feel...”
“How?” With his tongue, he traced her parted lips. “Tell me how I make you feel.”
“Magical.” Her fingers curled into the sheets. “Helpless.” And went lax. “Strong.” She gripped his forearms, rocked by a dazzling array of new sensations. “I don’t know.”
“I’m going to love you again, Libby.” He crushed his mouth to hers in a soul-wrenching kiss that left them both breathless. “And again, and again. Each time I do, it’ll be different.”
There was a power building in him. It might have frightened her if she hadn’t felt its twin growing in her. Her eyes stayed open and on his as she lifted her arms and rose to meet him.
***
Limbs entwined, they lay together in the deepest part of the night and listened to the wind rising through the trees. He was right, Libby thought. Each time was different, excitingly different, yet beautifully the same. She could, she hoped, live out her life on the memories of this one night.
“Are you asleep?”
She settled her head more comfortably in the curve of his shoulder. “No.”
“I might enjoy waking you.” He slid his hand up to cup her breast. “In fact, I’m sure I would.” He nestled his leg cozily between her thighs. “Libby?”
“Yes?”
“Something’s missing.”
“What?”
“Food.”
She smothered a yawn against his shoulder. “You’re hungry? Now?”
“I’ve got to keep up my strength.”
A quick, wicked grin curved her lips. “You’ve been doing pretty well so far.”
“Pretty well?” When she chuckled, he pulled her on top of him. “But I’m not finished yet. Why don’t I watch while you fix me a sandwich?”
She traced lazy patterns on his chest with her fingertip. “So, male chauvinism survives in the twenty-third century.”
“I fixed you breakfast this morning.”
She remembered the little silver bag. “More or less.”
Had it only been that morning? Could a life change so unalterably in just a few short hours? Hers had. She wondered if that should frighten her, but all she felt was gratitude.
“All right.” She started to push away, but then he gripped her hips and shifted her.
“First things first,” he murmured, and sent her soaring again.
Later, Libby struggled into a robe, wondering if her mind could handle the simple task of slapping some meat between two slices of bread. He’d drained her and filled her, aroused her and soothed her, until her limbs were weak and her mind was mush.
He switched on the bedside light as he rose out of the bed, unabashedly naked. “Got any cookies to go with that sandwich?”
“Probably.” She didn’t want to stare at him. Yes, she did. Though she knew it was foolish, her color rose as she lowered her eyes to watch her fingers fumble with the belt of her robe. When he walked toward the door, she looked up quickly. “You’re not going downstairs like that.”
“Like what?”
“Without... You need to put something on.”
He leaned a hand against the doorjamb and grinned. Watching her blush delighted him. “Why? You should know how I’m built by now.”