his head to help me turn, and, grabbing his bearded jaw, I brought his mouth to mine. That was it—all I had to do—the sign he wanted. His kiss was thorough, and when it was done, he drew back for barely a breath before coming in for another. He touched my face and wove his fingers into my hair. He mouthed his way down my throat and chest, removing clothing as he went, so that when he reached my breasts, they were bare and aching.
What followed was light-years removed from what we had done last week. That had been angry and fast. I had resented the physical attraction and wanted to get it out of my system once and for all. Okay. Fine. Part of it might have been pent-up need. But lots of it was wanting to punish Edward for messing with my new life. That sex hadn’t been pretty. In my right mind, I hadn’t wanted it.
This I did. This was about being as close to another human being as was physically possible.
Frantic to hold and be held, I kept my arms around him, kept my hands running over whatever of his skin that allowed. The heat of his body was what I craved. Had I been able to disappear inside him, I would have.
Too quickly, his heat became mine, and I wanted more. I’m not quite sure I had ever appreciated the sweep of his cheekbone the way my lips did now, or admired his clavicle as my fingers did. I had certainly never before had facial hair to compare to the hair on his chest or his legs. I’m not sure I had ever been quite this dizzied by the nutty scent of his skin.
His pulse was the best. It meant life, and life was what I needed. I found its rapid beat at the side of his neck and buried my face there. I found it inside his elbow and even more strongly at his groin. I was licking the thrum at the back of his knee when he brought me to my first climax. It was barely done when he flipped us around and entered me, and the mind-numbing went on.
Edward Cooper was virility incarnate. I had always thought him so, whether wearing a suit and tie or a T-shirt and jeans. But here and now, with his dark, close-cropped beard carrying my scent, with his long body naked and hungry, with his hands knowing just how to hold and caress, and the rest of him dispelling what little remained of my loneliness with closeness and fire, he was my air.
I was in the last throes of a shattering climax when I felt him approach his. I could tell from his breathing, from the small catch in his throat.
Given a moment’s lucidity, I gasped in warning, “Not inside!”
“Yes!”
“Not safe—”
“I want—”
“Please.”
He pulled out. His body jacked, and he held his breath for the longest time before breaking into long, throaty gasps. Then he collapsed on me.
I couldn’t move, could barely breathe. But I wrapped my arms around his sweaty back and held him, so that he wouldn’t leave. His weight grounded me.
Finally, he slid to the side and drew me under his arm, holding my body flush to his with a hand at my hip. “I’m staying,” he whispered.
I didn’t argue. My cheek was on his chest, one leg wound through his. I wasn’t about to move, and it had nothing to do with the part of him that my thigh touched, the part that was no longer erect yet still impressive. It had to do with his warmth, his scent, his pulse.
I didn’t fall asleep. Nor did he, said his steady, sturdy pulse.
“You were sad,” he whispered into my bedroom’s night.
“I was lonely.”
“Where’s Liam?”
“On a date.”
“Gone for the night?”
“Does it matter?”
“Not to me,” he said, but, even in a low bed voice, his intonation reminded me that I was the one leery of taking our relationship public, and that Liam would talk.
At that moment, I didn’t care.
Several moments later, though, I said, “It should. Matter to you. I’m bad luck.”
He paused, sighed. “If you’re talking about the accident—”
“No. Now. I mess things up.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I do. Like with Nina. I didn’t handle that well. And Chris? He’s fragile right now. I was too hard on him.”
He gave me a sharp squeeze. “You’re too hard on yourself.”
But I wasn’t. “I’m not sure I helped. I said way too much.” That, even before my confession, which Edward didn’t