“I want you to kiss me, Ethan. A real kiss. I want it so much that it overwhelms me. I want to feel like a real wife, not some fraud you aren’t sure of. You haven’t kissed me again since that morning when I kissed you.”
As she spoke, she put her hands on his chest and emphasized her words with a firm push. He caught her hands and held them still over his heart.
“God, Rachel, I want it too. I want it so much I hurt. But I’m afraid, damn it. I’m afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing. I’m afraid of frightening you just because I want to touch you more than I want my next breath.”
She trembled, but not in fear. An odd sensation raced up her spine, spreading in a warm glow that made her muscles tighten and her nipples pucker. It was then she realized that what she felt was desire, and she almost laughed.
She’d forgotten what it felt like to feel such pleasure, to experience the anticipation of her husband’s touch. It had been a long time since her pulse quickened with a simple glance. She missed it. God, she missed it.
The stirrings of desire had begun the morning she’d kissed him awake. She’d felt the unmistakable ache of awareness, but this, this was so intense that she thought she might go mad if the ache wasn’t assuaged.
“Kiss me,” she begged in a soft voice that was nearly inaudible.
With a groan, he pulled her close until her chest was crushed again his. His hands—he had such wonderful, strong hands—slid up her arms and then up her neck until he cupped her face.
Then he lowered his mouth to hers. Just before their lips touched, she heard his swift intake of breath, and he held it.
The warm shock of his mouth on hers was the most pleasurable sensation she’d felt in her scattered incomplete memories. Had it always been like this? Had she lived for such intimacies when they’d been married or had she taken them for granted the way most married couples do?
Never again. She’d savor each moment and hold it close. She knew firsthand how fast things could change, how easily a life could be shattered.
Eager to be an active participant in the kiss, she brushed her tongue across his, and sighed as he tenderly probed into her mouth in return.
Soft and so gentle, he deepened the kiss, his fingers thrusting upward into her hair, tangling as he pulled her even closer.
He shook against her, his chest throbbing with tightly held emotion. It overwhelmed her that this man felt so deeply, that he was as moved as she was and seemingly just as desperate for her touch as she was for his.
She reached up and tentatively stroked her fingers over the side of his neck and then over his clean-shaven jaw. She wanted to touch all of him, to relearn all the contours of his body. She wanted to see and touch, to explore and reclaim what was hers.
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him she didn’t want to go to his parents’ after all.
With a ragged gasp he pulled away and then returned, pressing quick, breathless kisses to her mouth, to the corner of her lips and then her jaw.
“Tell me what you need, Rachel. I swear I’ll give it to you. Anything.”
It took all her courage to say what it was she most wanted. He’d made all the sacrifices so far. He’d been patient, understanding. He deserved this much. He deserved her courage.
“Will you make love to me? Tonight?”
Fire blazed in his eyes, turning them a brilliant shade of blue. He opened his mouth and just as quickly closed it. His nostrils flared with the effort of his breathing, and when he finally did speak, his voice was hoarse.
“I’ll make love to you, baby. I’ll do anything you want.”
She brushed her hand over his cheek, the need to touch him a living, breathing thing.
“Do you want me? I mean as a wife.”
The words came out rushed, and she stammered over the last. She didn’t realize she was holding her breath until it escaped in a jerky explosion.
He caught her hand and tucked his mouth into her palm. The kiss sent a shiver over her skin, raising chill bumps in its wake.
“Want you? I want you so much I hurt. There isn’t a time when I don’t want you. But I want you