“Coming along.” Her skin felt like silk, he thought, and it warmed under his touch. “In fact. I made more progress than I’d expected.”
“Oh.” He thought he saw a shadow flicker in her eyes, but her voice was bright and encouraging. “That’s good. Did you ride the cycle back?”
“Yeah. I left it behind the shed.”
It had been a stupid question, she thought. He would hardly have hiked all the way. She wanted to ask him to take her up again, now, while the moon was rising. The wind was already picking up, warning of rain. It would be wonderful. But he looked tired, and troubled.
“Well, after all that you must be hungry.” She glanced around as if noticing the dark for the first time. “I hadn’t realized it was so late. Why don’t I go down and toss something together?”
“It can wait.” Taking her hand, he drew her to her feet. The machine continued to hum, forgotten by both of them. “We can go down later and both throw something together. I like the way you look in glasses.”
With a quick laugh, she reached for them. He caught her hand so that both of hers were trapped in his.
“No, don’t take them off.” He tilted his head to kiss her, as if experimenting. Her taste was the same. Thank God. Most of the tension dissolved. “They make you look... smart and serious.”
Though her heart was already thumping, she smiled. “I am smart and serious.”
“Yes, I suppose you are.” He ran his thumbs over the inside of her wrists and felt her pulse scramble. “The way you look right now makes me want to see just how unintellectual I can make you.” With their hands still joined, he bent to kiss her, holding himself back, teasing and nibbling her lips until her breath was a shudder.
“Libby?”
“Yes.”
“What can you tell me about the mudmen of New Guinea?”
“Nothing.” She strained against him, moaning a bit when his lips continued to brush, featherlight, over hers. “Nothing at all. Kiss me, Caleb.”
“I am.” His lips cruised over her face, skimming here, lingering there. She was like a volcano, awakened after eons of sleep, ready to burst free, hot and molten.
“Touch me.”
“I will.”
It was never what she expected. He had her teetering on the edge with only a stroke of his hands. Then, as she trembled back to earth, he began to undress her, peeling off her flannel shirt, tugging off her jeans, while they stood beside the bed. She wore a narrow white undershirt in plain cotton. It seemed to fascinate him as he toyed with the straps, skimmed his finger along the low scooped neck, before he slipped it up and over her head. His lips were never still, nor were his hands, which roamed to exploit all the secrets he’d already discovered.
Delighted, delirious, she yanked his sweater over his head. It amazed her that the need could have sharpened and grown, outracing what she had felt for him the first time. Now she knew where he would take her and had already traveled some of the routes he navigated so expertly.
His skin was soft, smooth. It pleased her to run her hands up and over his back to feel it and the hard muscle beneath. The contrast, the peculiarly masculine contrast, made her knees weak. She heard his breath quicken as she stroked her hands from shoulder to waist.
To be wanted this... desperately. She could feel it in the way he touched her, in the way his mouth came back to hers again and again for longer, deeper, hungrier kisses. His tongue tangled with hers, enticing, erotic, and she felt as well as heard him suck in his breath as her knuckles grazed his stomach.
She had learned, Cal thought dizzily. And she had learned quickly. Her hands, and the gentle movements of her body against his, were driving him beyond reason. He wanted to tell her to give him a moment, to give him the time he needed to gain a firm, lasting grip on control. But it was already too late. Much too late.
He dragged her to the bed. Her gasp of surprise ended in a dark moan of pleasure. She reached for him, only to find herself gripping the bedclothes as he whipped her over the first raw edge.
She’d thought she knew what loving was. Even a night steeped in it hadn’t prepared her for this. He was crazed, and in a moment her madness matched his.
No gentle touch, no easy persuasion. It was all hot, ripe need and a desperate race for satisfaction. Like two lost souls, they rolled over the sheets and drowned in each other.
A desperate demand. A fervent answer. Murmured requests were for the sane. Tonight there were only breathless moans and shuddering sighs. Her skin was so slick with the heat passion pumped into her that it slid sleekly over his. Each time his mouth found hers she tasted the rich, musky flavor of desire.
There were no velvet clouds now, but a storm breaking. Exciting. Electric. She could almost hear the air singing with it. Drums seemed to pound inside her head, inside her heart, beating in an ever-increasing rhythm. Gulping in air, she rolled over him to press her open mouth to his throat, his chest, knowing only that his flavor was dark, rich and wonderful.
He couldn’t get enough. No matter how much she gave, he needed more and still more. He was unaware that his fingers were digging hard into her skin, bruising, even as his lips followed the trail. He could see her in the dim lamplight, the way her damp skin glowed, the way her head fell back each time pleasure overtook her. Her eyes were gold, like some dark, ancient coin. Tribute for a goddess. He thought of her as one now, as she rose over him, her body curved back like a bow, the light casting an aura around her hair.
He thought he would die for her, thought he would die without her. Then she was taking him into her, deeply, fully. He reached blindly, as she did, and their hands linked.
Then there was no thought at all.