but just as quickly it was gone. “But never mind that. It’s not who I am now.”
Calam still held her hand. He pulled it close to his chest, wrapping her fingers tightly in his. “No, but it makes up who you are, Ilana. I’m sorry.”
“Please don’t be. It was a long time ago. It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“It does to me. That someone hurt you that way.” He couldn’t keep the fierceness from his voice. From burning in his chest. He felt at that moment as if he’d kill anyone who hurt her.
“Ah, Calam, please don’t.”
But it was too late. Tears burned at the back of Ilana’s eyes as emotion flooded her. She shook her head, tried to shake the tears away, helpless over them in as long as she could remember. Years. What was it about him that brought all of this out?
Calam didn’t say another word, just pulled her into him, gathering her in his strong arms, tucking her head under his chin. They stayed that way for a while, until the heat of his body began to soothe her, allowing her to relax. Soon that heat shifted, turned into something darker, more primal. Comfort turned to titillation, the scent of man and soap drifting in with each breath.
Wordlessly, he pressed on her shoulder until she was lying on her back. He held himself over her, propped on one elbow. With his free hand he explored her body, tracing her collarbone with his fingertips, the rise of her breasts, the curving sides. Then her rib cage, the valley of her stomach, the edge of her navel. All the time he was silent, reverential, his brows drawn together. She watched his face—the sheer, male beauty of it. He made her breathless.
By the time he reached the apex of her thighs, she was wet, needy. She sighed as she opened for him, and his hand slipped lower. His fingers went into her slick heat, sliding between the folds. She sighed again, pleasure shimmering over her skin, trembling in her sex, her belly, her muscles. He pressed his thumb on her clitoris, began to circle. And his silvery gaze never left her face.
There was something lovely in the way he touched her. Adoring. But there was more to it than that. Something completely unfamiliar, yet something she felt she should know. Something she had been missing, perhaps.
“Calam,” she whispered. “I need you.”
“Yes…”
He rolled on top of her. Her legs opened, wrapped around him as he slipped inside her, his cock thick, heavy, filling her instantly.
He moaned, his breath warm in her hair. His arms went around her, wrapping her waist, holding her tight as his hips began to pump. One surging thrust, then another. All of it liquid and lovely. Pleasure warm and fluid, like honey in her veins.
He lowered his mouth to her throat, kissed her there. Sweet, tender kisses at first. Then, as desire built, he raised his mouth to hers, opened her lips with his, and took her over.
She felt that shift the moment it happened. It was no less sweet. But it was clear that he was in command, his body setting the pace, which was quickening moment by moment. His hips plunged. He drew out, then plunged again, burying his cock deep inside her. She held on to him, helpless against the pleasure that was blossoming, starting in her sex, moving through her in long, tremulous waves. The heat grew more intense as he pumped into her. His breathing in her ear was harsh and rasping.
“Gods, Ilana. I’m going to come. Come with me.”
Oh, she loved to hear him ask that of her. A command, yet he was pleading with her at the same time. Her sex clenched in pleasure. And as he thrust hard, harder, she came. Came apart. Sensation roared through her body like a white light, like thunder. And as she cried out, he came, too, calling her name.
“Ilana, Ilana… Gods!”
She was still shivering with her climax—it never seemed to end—and Calam held her in his arms, kissed her hair, her cheeks, her mouth. She didn’t know what had just happened to her. To them. Between them. But it left her chest
Calam still held her hand. He pulled it close to his chest, wrapping her fingers tightly in his. “No, but it makes up who you are, Ilana. I’m sorry.”
“Please don’t be. It was a long time ago. It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“It does to me. That someone hurt you that way.” He couldn’t keep the fierceness from his voice. From burning in his chest. He felt at that moment as if he’d kill anyone who hurt her.
“Ah, Calam, please don’t.”
But it was too late. Tears burned at the back of Ilana’s eyes as emotion flooded her. She shook her head, tried to shake the tears away, helpless over them in as long as she could remember. Years. What was it about him that brought all of this out?
Calam didn’t say another word, just pulled her into him, gathering her in his strong arms, tucking her head under his chin. They stayed that way for a while, until the heat of his body began to soothe her, allowing her to relax. Soon that heat shifted, turned into something darker, more primal. Comfort turned to titillation, the scent of man and soap drifting in with each breath.
Wordlessly, he pressed on her shoulder until she was lying on her back. He held himself over her, propped on one elbow. With his free hand he explored her body, tracing her collarbone with his fingertips, the rise of her breasts, the curving sides. Then her rib cage, the valley of her stomach, the edge of her navel. All the time he was silent, reverential, his brows drawn together. She watched his face—the sheer, male beauty of it. He made her breathless.
By the time he reached the apex of her thighs, she was wet, needy. She sighed as she opened for him, and his hand slipped lower. His fingers went into her slick heat, sliding between the folds. She sighed again, pleasure shimmering over her skin, trembling in her sex, her belly, her muscles. He pressed his thumb on her clitoris, began to circle. And his silvery gaze never left her face.
There was something lovely in the way he touched her. Adoring. But there was more to it than that. Something completely unfamiliar, yet something she felt she should know. Something she had been missing, perhaps.
“Calam,” she whispered. “I need you.”
“Yes…”
He rolled on top of her. Her legs opened, wrapped around him as he slipped inside her, his cock thick, heavy, filling her instantly.
He moaned, his breath warm in her hair. His arms went around her, wrapping her waist, holding her tight as his hips began to pump. One surging thrust, then another. All of it liquid and lovely. Pleasure warm and fluid, like honey in her veins.
He lowered his mouth to her throat, kissed her there. Sweet, tender kisses at first. Then, as desire built, he raised his mouth to hers, opened her lips with his, and took her over.
She felt that shift the moment it happened. It was no less sweet. But it was clear that he was in command, his body setting the pace, which was quickening moment by moment. His hips plunged. He drew out, then plunged again, burying his cock deep inside her. She held on to him, helpless against the pleasure that was blossoming, starting in her sex, moving through her in long, tremulous waves. The heat grew more intense as he pumped into her. His breathing in her ear was harsh and rasping.
“Gods, Ilana. I’m going to come. Come with me.”
Oh, she loved to hear him ask that of her. A command, yet he was pleading with her at the same time. Her sex clenched in pleasure. And as he thrust hard, harder, she came. Came apart. Sensation roared through her body like a white light, like thunder. And as she cried out, he came, too, calling her name.
“Ilana, Ilana… Gods!”
She was still shivering with her climax—it never seemed to end—and Calam held her in his arms, kissed her hair, her cheeks, her mouth. She didn’t know what had just happened to her. To them. Between them. But it left her chest
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