Oh, God.
A lash had been put to his flesh and left striped marks upon his olive-hued skin.
“Oh, Caleb,” she whispered, her voice faltering, and she leaned up and pressed her lips against those symbols of the pain he’d endured.
He sucked in a breath through his teeth. “It doesn’t hurt anymore,” he said hoarsely. “In fact, I don’t think I’ll ever look at them again and see anything but you and me and that kiss and this moment.”
She didn’t believe that. Claire knew they were always there, and with what he’d endured, the demons would not be fully vanquished. But if she could give him even some moments to take and even once drown out the darkest memories he carried, she wanted to give him that smallest of gifts.
Caleb clasped her lightly at the waist and drew her toward him, and she went, following him like he was some manner of magical piper.
Making quick work of the laces at the top of her dress and the fastenings at her waist, Caleb rid Claire of the rose-hued satin garment and the modest shift until she was naked before him, too, clad in nothing more than her silk stockings.
He trailed a rough fingertip along the curve of her breast, teasing a slow, seductive path around the areola, gliding his touch close to her nipple, and Claire bit her lower lip. He moved a passion-filled gaze over her body, a glint in those piercing eyes of a man who wanted to lay claim to her body, and they had finally found harmony in their thoughts, for the only yearning she had was to be claimed by him.
It was too much.
Capturing his hands, she brought them up, laying them upon her breasts.
Caleb’s breath caught sharply.
“There isn’t a woman like you, Claire,” he murmured, his harsh baritone rich with wonder and appreciation as each of his thumbs thrummed her nipples into tense peaks. “You make no apologies, and I love that about you.”
Her heartbeat kicked up its cadence.
But if she was unlike any other, how could he so easily send her away? How could he not want her as she wanted him… not in just this way, but in every way? Refusing to let what she yearned for, what he was unwilling to give, sour this moment, holding off on those regrets until later, Claire gripped him hard by the nape and angled his head down so she could reach him and take what she wanted.
This kiss, the rough collision of her mouth on his, was unlike any other kiss they’d shared before. As she lashed her tongue against his, he met those strokes in return, and there was a primality to it. Desire pooled between her legs, leaving her even wetter for him, making the ache even keener.
And then he slipped a hand down, finding her with his fingers.
Claire exhaled a hiss, her hips shooting up reflexively to avail herself to that touch.
“How wet you are,” he whispered against her mouth, the smile in his voice full of male smugness and pride.
She grunted, rocking her hips in a bid to get closer. To have him assuage this agonizing need, to find the fulfillment she craved.
Then he scooped her up, guiding her down onto the wool sheeting, and this time, he laid himself between her legs, pressing his length against the thatch of curls that concealed her womanhood. Her lashes heavy, Claire fought to keep her eyes open so she could remember him and every part of making love with this man.
His features were strained, the tense set of his angular jaw, the sweep of dark hair that had fallen across his forehead highlighting his strongly marked, horizontal brows.
Caleb slid the plum-tipped head of his shaft inside, and her core, sopping wet, slicked the way for him. Even so, the tight walls of her channel gripped him, creating an exquisite drag where every sensation was heightened.
As he moved within her, Caleb lowered his head to her breast and availed himself to a peak once more, laving and flicking that bud with those glorious little suckling sounds that were so very naughty and delicious.
“Mmm,” she pleaded, lifting her hips to urge him on, her thrusting bringing him even deeper inside.
But then he stopped, withholding the part of him she needed so very much.
“You are torturing me, Caleb,” she panted, curling her fingers sharply into his shoulder to show her disapproval and to get him to continue.
“Ah, but it’s the most delicious kind of torture, isn’t it, love?” he breathed, a husky, playful quality to his reply.
“N—ohhhhh.” Her response faded to a low, throaty groan as he resumed stroking his length inside her. Claire’s eyes widened as he again gave her what she sought.
“No?” he teased, kissing her temple, and he abruptly stopped.
She cried out. “Damn it, Caleb Grayyyyy—” He slipped his hand between them and teased her with his fingers. “Ahhh,” she panted. “I don’t want to wait anymore. Please don’t make—”
At last, he plunged home, giving her precisely what she begged for and what her body needed.
There was a brief moment of pain as he filled her deeply, completely, throbbing inside her tight channel. Claire’s chest rose and fell in sporadic spurts as she tried to breathe, but the feel of him fully within her proved too delicious.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered against her temple.
Claire forced her heavy lashes open, and his gaze caught with hers, his eyes, the heat and intensity of them, piercing all the way through her. “I’m only sorry you stopped.”
His eyes darkened, and then with a low growl, he claimed her mouth. Nay, she gave it to him. Just as she wanted to give all of herself to him.
He began to move.
Slowly at first. A deliberate, slow glide and retreat as he filled her.
All pain receded, and Claire surrendered completely to this moment. Wrapping her arms about his back, she lifted her hips, coming up to meet him as he continued to drive himself within her.
Their breathing grew jerky and loud, their bodies slicked with sweat, and he increased his rhythm. Then, all gentleness was gone and forgotten as Caleb gripped her hard by the hips and leveraged himself forward, touching her to the quick, and Claire cried out with the bliss his strokes brought. Over and over again, he thrust and pulled back. Thrust and pulled back. Each of those harmonious movements brought her higher and higher to that place he’d drawn her to before. The cliff where she now knew what awaited on the other side. And Claire was desperate for it.
She thrashed her head back and forth, making a mess of the wool underneath her. “Pleeease,” she cried, lunging up to meet him. To better take him.
“That’s it, love,” he encouraged, his breath as labored as her own, his tone strident. “Take what you want.”
And then she did.
Claire stiffened, her entire body tensing, and she came.
Screaming his name, she came, over and over, pleasure rippling through her, so intense her body spasmed. She cursed. She keened. All the while, he continued to drive himself inside her, continuing to wring every last bit of pleasure from her until she gasped, her entire body going limp, replete.
His breath went ragged, and Caleb’s movements grew quicker, more frenzied, the grip he had upon her hips tightening.
He tensed, and with a low groan, he withdrew and spilled his seed in a clear, shimmering arc alongside them.
And then he collapsed over her, catching himself by his elbows, their chests still touching so that Claire was able to turn her cheek and lay it against the light mat of tufted curls.