Untouched

And the light was love.

She rode out one climax. Another. Then another. Each flung her higher. Each left her sure she could give no more. Then the next climax would hit and leave her shuddering in helpless reaction.

When it was over, she wilted in a limp heap onto Matthew’s chest. He was her destiny. He broke her heart. But she’d never regret sharing these days with him. The radiance would glow, no matter how far apart they were.

Between her legs, she was sticky and she ached. It was a good ache. The best ache. She sighed and buried her nose in his chest to dam sudden tears.

How could she bring herself to leave him tomorrow?

Toward dawn, Matthew roused Grace from her restless doze. She’d hardly slept and in the candles’ guttering light, exhaustion marked her lovely face.

He was a conscienceless beast. He’d used her ruthlessly, relentlessly, only giving her brief surcease. She’d be sore. He hadn’t been gentle, to his shame.

They hadn’t spoken of parting. Although impending separation hovered behind every touch, every sigh, every climax. He’d tried to make this night more than a sorrowful valediction. He wanted it to be a celebration of their love that she’d remember with a smile through the years to come. The years he couldn’t be with her.

This was the last time they’d lie together. An elegy played in his heart as he cupped her breast. It fit perfectly in his hand. She was naked. They’d eventually shed the last of their clothes. He’d forgotten quite when. Somewhere before midnight, he was sure. Somewhere between carpet and bed. She must be a mass of bruises from him pounding into her on the floor.

She sighed—she wasn’t awake although she wasn’t asleep either—and turned toward him. Her nipple darkened and tightened. Her body recognized what was to come.

He bent his head and placed a tender kiss on that rosy peak. Then he turned his attention to her other breast, drawing it into his mouth and suckling it. His touch held a bittersweet softness.

The mark of Filey’s vile bite was now only a shadow. It would fade and disappear. What they felt wouldn’t.

“I love you,” she murmured and stroked his hair.

She’d said those words so often tonight. But he wanted to hear them again. How many times were enough? Enough to lend an ember of warmth to the icy loneliness that awaited him?

He nuzzled the delicate skin under her breast and kissed his way across her belly. She sighed and bowed up toward him. He raised his head to find her watching, her eyes dark with grief. The imminence of parting hung heavy between them. He moved over her and kissed her with all the adoration he felt. Her lips were pliant and silky.

She opened to him immediately, her tongue seeking. During the long night, they’d tested passion’s fury. This was different. Sweeter, sadder, deeper. For all that their earlier couplings had been unions of soul as well as body.

Her legs fell open so he rested in the hot apex. He was hard, even after the night just passed. Very gently, for he wanted her to remember he cherished her as much as wanted her, he stroked her cleft.

She was dry. He’d tried her to her limit. It was a gift of love that she turned so willingly to him now.

He kissed her again, trying to store the taste and feel against the desolation to come. She could revive a dead man with her kiss alone. In his case, she had. For one insubstantial moment, he’d tasted life in her arms.

He sucked and licked at her neck and she rewarded him with a rush of moisture against his seeking fingers. He nibbled his way downward, planning on using his mouth to bring her to climax before he took her.

“No,” she whispered, as he lingered at her navel. “I want you with me.”

She was right. This was farewell. He should be inside her. He needed the joining as much as she. They’d shared pleasure all night. Now he must give her everything he had.

“Grace, you break my heart,” he said rawly, raising himself on his elbows to see her face.

She was pale as the moon. Against her white skin, her lips were swollen and red. He’d remember her like this to his dying day.

She stroked his jaw. He pressed his face into the caress. “Make love to me, Matthew. As though the world ends today.”

The world did end today.

He knew what she wanted. She didn’t want desperate passion. She didn’t want the excitement of experiment. She wanted the two of them moving through eternity as though nothing could ever sunder them.

A bird called outside. Sunrise wasn’t far away.

Very slowly, he entered her. Relishing every sigh, every quiver of weary muscles. He planted himself deep, so deep he touched her soul. Then he held still, breathing as she breathed, his heart beating in time with hers.

Her touch was ineffably tender as she traced his shoulders, his chest, his back. Her wandering fingers wrote a lifetime of love on his skin.