God. He’d wanted her for so long. So long.
It took her a moment to find a rhythm. His thrusts, her hips—for a few seconds they felt off. But then they found synchrony.
He was lost. Lost in the feel of her. Lost in the heat of her body around him, the slide where they came together, the press of flesh against flesh. Lost in the pleasure that enveloped him, stroke after stroke, as she opened up to him.
He caressed her, took her up, up, higher and higher as he groaned, gasping into the feel of her. God, the warmth of her walls around him…
“Amelia.”
He had to hold on and so he did, feeling his pleasure rise. He slid his hand between them so he could press between her legs.
“Oh.” She let out a noise and he pressed against her, finding that perfect angle of his hips that made her gasp and contract around him. It couldn’t possibly get better.
But it did. The heat of her body around him grew. He was aware of everything. Of the little noises she made, desperate and pleading. The brush of her breasts as she leaned over him. He was aware of her as she came apart around him, trembling around his cock and he finally let go of everything—all his tension, all his worries—and released into her.
It was bliss, pure and untouched by any other concerns. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t talk, could only feel the rightness of the instant stretching around them until nothing else existed.
He opened his eyes. He was hot and sticky; she was slumped against him. She leaned down and kissed him, a delighted smile on her face.
“Gray,” she said. Her arms came around him, holding him close. He held her in return, not wanting to let go.
“Amelia.” He nuzzled into her. There was so much he wanted to say. So much he wanted to ask for. But what he said was, “I need to leave tomorrow. In truth, this has taken me too long as it is. I must make plans to lay the line to Shanghai. I have so much to do.”
She exhaled. “I know.” But she wrapped her arms around him as if afraid to let go.
“Once I’ve ordered the cable and established a schedule, it will be time to connect the line from Myriad to Moresby Island.” Gray swallowed. “I likely won’t have any chance of seeing you until all that’s finished.”
“I know,” she said again. “I told you. I wouldn’t want you to be anyone else.”
He nodded into the palm of her hand.
“Let me stay with you tonight,” she said.
And so he did.
Chapter Thirty-One
Amelia woke to the feeling of lips. First, they touched her forehead. Then her nose. Then they brushed lightly against her mouth. As she struggled into wakefulness, she felt the warmth of Grayson’s arm around her and heard the low murmur of his voice.
“Amelia,” he was saying. “Amelia.”
She opened her eyes to slits. It wasn’t even close to morning.
“Why.” She squeezed her eyes back shut. “Dark.”
An amused huff followed, which was ridiculous. Nothing was amusing about being awakened at this hour.
“Amelia,” Grayson said. “You should go back to your room.”
She snuggled into his shoulder joint and contemplated this. “Cold.”
“And I must go back to Shanghai.”
That woke her, jolting through her petulant sleepiness. She sat up, staring at his silhouette in the gloom. “Already?”
“Spend time with your mother,” he said. “And your family. You’ve worked hard on your code. You deserve a rest. And there’s no place for me in this reunion.”
She wanted to argue. But in the dark, she couldn’t make out his features, and this newly awake, she wasn’t sure she’d manage to convince him. He leaned in, brushing her hair back.
“Grayson.” She shut her eyes. “We…” She trailed off, unable to formulate a sentence.
“I don’t know what we are either.” His hand brushed her cheek. “I only know what you are. You are the closest, most valuable person to my heart.”
His lips found hers, warm and reassuring in the deep black of the early morning hours.
“I want you to take your time here,” he whispered. “Don’t rush on my account.” For a moment, he seemed to choke up. “You should know your family. Understand?”
She nodded into his embrace.
“By the time you’ve returned, I’ll be out of Shanghai. I’ve work in Japan, then Hong Kong. Finally, in September, I must sail to Myriad Island and bridge the gap across the Pacific. I don’t see how I can visit you until next year at least. Amelia, I—”
She kissed his apology away before it could come out. “Stop. You’ll be able to get signal via the cable, yes?”
“Of course. Like last time.”
She pressed her forehead to his.
“Then send me a number occasionally.”
He let out a long exhale. “I don’t think the envelopes I gave you encompass what I want to say anymore.”
“Then we need to make new numbers.” She reached out and pulled him into a kiss. He exhaled against her mouth, then melted against her. Into her. Into the kiss. They only had a few precious minutes left before months would separate them. She couldn’t let it go to waste.
“What do you think,” she said, after they’d kissed until he was breathless. “Three hundred seventy-two?”
“Yes.” His hands met her hips, and he slid down her body. “This will be four hundred twelve.” He spread her legs and slid between them. Amelia’s mind went blank. His tongue lapped out at her, tasting her, running along the folds of her entrance. He dipped his tongue into her a bit, then slid out, kissing up, finding that nub that sent pleasure sparking up her.
“Four hundred and twelve,” she agreed, breathless. “Then four hundred and fifteen must be this. Please, Grayson. Please. There. That’s it.”
She’d never experienced pleasure so intense, so concentrated. She could hear the liquid sound of his tongue, of her staccato gasps. “Please. That’s—just like that. Grayson. Grayson.” He had no mercy at all, none, and she had no desire to make him show her any. She canted her hips up into his face. Her climax came on her quickly, burning through her with a savageness that took her by surprise.
“Five hundred seven,” he growled. “That means I want you. Most desperately. And this, then, I suppose is five hundred nineteen.”
It took him a moment to find another condom, to prepare it, and to roll it on. But her body was still sparking with pleasure when he pushed her back to the mats covering the bench. He slid inside her, the slickness drenching her easing his entry.
“God,” he whispered against her ear. “I’m going to miss you. I’m going to miss this.” The rough slide of their bodies—the heat between them—Amelia felt herself tense. “Please,” she said. “Again. Again.”
He reached underneath her, tilting her hips so that his thrusts angled right into—oh, right there, brushing pleasure so intense into her that she could feel her whole body flush. Right there. It was so perfect. She found his lips and kissed him, kissed up his nose, kissed the sweat beading on his forehead, kissed him as he took her again and again, until she felt her muscles tensing, until he groaned on top of her. Until he came, and when he’d finished, pressed his hand against her and brought her the rest of the way.