A Time for Us - By Amy Knupp Page 0,61
themselves closer still, to deepen their connection.
Reason and thought escaped Cale as a primal need like he’d never experienced took over. Yes, it was physical, but it went far beyond. He wanted to climb inside of her and heal her, make everything in her world right and have her do the same for him.
Their bodies aligned, and they rolled so she was beneath him, clinging to him. It was all he could do to support part of his weight with his arms. She seemed so fragile under his body, and yet, in spite of her softness, he knew she had a thread of steel in her that made her stronger than he could ever dream of being.
“Rachel,” he whispered reverently and then crushed their lips together again.
* * *
RACHEL REVELED IN THE storm of delicious physical sensations Cale aroused, in the weight of him on top of her. The feel of his skin as she inched his shirt up and ran her hands over him, his taut abdomen, muscled chest, strong back, broad shoulders.
She shut down the pesky little voice that questioned what she was doing, reassuring herself that there was nothing wrong with a few moments of glorious escape from the shadows that had weighed her down even in sleep. She needed this closeness like she’d never needed anyone before.
He lifted his head, breaking the contact of their mouths, and she pulled him back to her, afraid of losing the link between them, the security, the affection. Being so close to him made her feel safe, as if the horrible stuff she knew hovered just out of her consciousness at the moment couldn’t get to her.
He lifted her T-shirt, baring her so that they were skin-on-skin from the waist up. The heat of his flesh made her crave even more of him, made her long for him to take her higher, to soothe the hollow ache inside of her.
His hands explored her body, caressing, rubbing, palming her breasts, making her feel so feminine and desirable, she knew she would never get enough of him.
As she pulled his shirt over his head, he leaned to the side to help her. Their eyes met, and his held an unspoken question.
Rachel couldn’t fathom any question, couldn’t imagine letting him walk away now. She wanted all of him, needed him to fill her, make her feel alive, give her hope. There was no thinking of anything else—she couldn’t let herself.
Instead of responding to him with words, she lifted her own shirt the rest of the way off, then reached lower and worked her shorts down her legs, baring herself to him completely.
His gaze shifted to her body, and she felt his eyes burning her up, sharpening the ache low in her abdomen. She lifted one knee and urged him back on top of her, nestling him between her legs and soaking up the gratification of his drawn-out, needy moan.
She slid her hands beneath his waistband in back, kneaded his butt with both hands as she drew him as close to her as physically possible. And yet she still yearned for more, needed more.
All it took was for her to unsnap his shorts. He reached down and took over the task. His zipper lowered with the unmistakable sound of metal letting go, freeing him. In a single motion, he arched himself and slid his shorts to his ankles, kicked them to the floor.
His mouth was on hers again even before his body was, his tongue plunging between her lips, demanding and insistent. He tasted earthy, masculine...safe. Like a refuge.
The sensation of his hardness against her, pressing into the juncture of her thighs where she was damp and throbbing for him, elicited an unfamiliar, lustful sound from deep in her throat. Unable to deny her pulsing need, she opened herself to him, her hands on his beautiful, toned butt again, urging him closer.
When he entered her, her eyes filled with tears that contained both relief and need at once. She bit her lip against the momentary sting as her body adjusted to his size. He stilled, as if waiting for her to be comfortable, and when the heat inside of her climbed feverishly, outweighing any discomfort, she moved her hips suggestively and nibbled at his shoulder.
Finding her mouth with his again, he began to move inside of her, gently at first, inch by incredible inch, until she couldn’t stay quiet.
“More,” she whispered.
“Yesss.”
They fell easily into a rhythm, their bodies working together as if they had