"Finally," she whispered. "I love you, too."
His arms pulled her against him, and she felt small and breathless and utterly secure. It was just a hug, a hug like all the other hugs . . . but it was different, too.
"God, you're beautiful," he said, and she felt his fingers press on her back. Oh - he was working the hooks on her bra. He'd had practice, some part of her noticed; the rest was too busy screaming in utter joy.
Then she wasn't able to think about much at all.
It wasn't like in the movies. In the movies, it was all graceful, pretty people and hot camera angles; in real life, it was a weird mix of tremendously exciting and totally awkward. Shane still had condoms in the wallet that he retrieved from his jeans. That was something they never showed in the movies (at least the ones Claire watched). He was kind of embarrassed about it, too. It made it feel real to her - a lot more real than all her old fantasies.
Shane asked a lot of questions, which felt odd at first, but then she realized that he was nervous, just as nervous as she was, and that was all right. He wanted to make her happy.
He did make her happy.
Despite what Eve had told her, the pain still came as a shock, leaping in an electric current through her entire body. If Shane hadn't held her and helped her through it, Claire didn't know how she would have felt about it later . . . but he did, and it got better.
And then it was all right.
And then it was amazing. She cried a little, and she didn't even know why, except that the emotions were just too big for her. Too overwhelming.
"It's different," Claire whispered to him in the dark, as they lay there wrapped up together, warm and content. "It's different from what I thought."
"Different how?" He sounded suddenly worried. Claire kissed him.
"Good different. Different like it means something. Like right now - it doesn't feel like we're naked at all, does it?" She didn't know why she said that, but it was true; she didn't feel exposed with him. Just . . . accepted. "I'm not afraid with you. You know what I mean?"
He made a lazy uh-huh sound that meant he might possibly not be listening. "So it was okay."
"Okay?" She rose up on one elbow to look down on him. "Is this you fishing for compliments on your hotness?"
"Why? Did I catch one?"
"Idiot." She flopped back down and cuddled up against him. His hand caressed the small of her back in tiny circles. "I won't lie to you: that was intense. And it hurt. But . . . yeah. It was . . . amazing."
"I hate that it hurt," he said. "Next time - "
"I know. It wasn't so bad, though. Don't worry." The warm cushion of his arm under her head felt like the best pillow in the world. "I feel different. Do I look different?"
Shane brushed hair back from her face. "It's pretty dark in here, but yeah, I can see it."
She felt her eyes widen. "You can?"
"Sure." He traced a finger over her forehead. "Claire is not a virgin. Says so right there."
She felt her cheeks and forehead heat up, and smacked his arm. "You are awful."
"Ah, the truth comes out."
"Seriously. I just feel . . . I do feel different. I feel like I'm someone else than I was before. You know?"
"Yeah," he said somberly. "I know. But I feel like that every day I wake up in Morganville."
She kissed him, and tasted the sadness in him. His sigh seemed to come all the way from his toes. "God, I needed you," he murmured. "I can't even tell you how many times I thought about this. The funny thing is, I don't need you any less now. I think I need you more."
That, Claire thought, was a pretty good definition of love: needing someone even after you got what you thought you wanted.
After a long moment, he said, "Your dad is going to kill me. And he's probably got a right to."
She hadn't thought about her parents, but now it flooded in with a vengeance. This was going to get messy. And complicated. "It'll be okay," she whispered, and spread her hand out over his chest. He put his own hand over hers. "We'll be okay."