Nearby, birds were chattering. Thea basked in the luscious wantonness of being naked, by the lake, with him.
“The way I feel when I’m with you, I want to feel it more,” she said. “I want to be close to you, as close as I can get. Because I have so many pictures of you in my head, and so many memories of your touch, but I want more.” She brushed her fingers over his lips. “I want to make love with you because I am greedy and I like sweet things.”
“Thea.” He breathed her name, as he wound his fingers in her hair and rose up beside her. “If we make love…”
“Hush. You grumble about me talking too much, but now you are talking too much.”
A new light entered his eyes. “Then what would you have me do?”
She answered him with a kiss. It was slow and promising at first, but as their tongues caressed each other, a new fever seized her, breeding a desperate, insatiable hunger, a craving to press against him so completely that they became one. Rational thought took flight, freeing her hands and mouth to roam wildly over him, yearning to touch and taste every inch of him, before her only chance escaped.
In no time at all, he caught her fever, his hunger as fierce as her own. They made short work of the last of his clothes, and she was lying back, inviting his embrace, his body hovering over her. Her hand slid over his hips, brazen and reckless as she curled her ravenous fingers around his hard, satiny length.
“Thea, sweet Thea, I need you now.”
Thea gripped him harder; he groaned and said, “Time for that later,” and her confused mind tried to find when this “later” would be, for there was only now, and now he replaced her hand with his own and guided himself into her, pushing firmly, confidently, knowing she would welcome him. His powerful presence inside her startled her, spiked through her, then new sensations rippled outward, and she settled into rightness, because finally—at least for this brief, heavenly moment—finally, he was hers.
Finally, finally, she was his.
Rafe paused, to give her time, to give himself time too—time to savor this moment, this precious, sacred moment, of their bodies joined, his cock deep inside her, her face telling him her thoughts, telling him of her discomfort, her surprise, and then— So help him! Her pleasure. Her intrigue. Her wonder. Her eyes flew open, and he lost himself in their divine perfection, lost himself in her generous smile, as she shifted and tightened around him. Pleasure coursed through him, conquered him, possessed him. Thea wrapped her legs around him, took him deeper. Her fingers kneaded his back as she kissed him passionately. He gathered her close—he could not hold this position; he was not that strong—but for now, they were melded together, anchored to each other, as one.
Everything in the world was right.
Then his control failed him. He should go slowly; it was her first time, but it might as well be his first time too. Desire tore at him, overwhelming him, and he lowered her to the grass. It was their first time, but soon they would marry, and they had decades of times ahead. He would explain, she would understand, they would laugh and tease and he’d do right by her next time. The next time they made love, she would be his wife.
Rafe kept his eyes on hers and surrendered to his need, and each time he discovered her anew, he told her with his eyes that now he had found her, he would hold her fast. That now she had found him, he had come home.
Through the haze of his passion, he was aware of her crying out, of her body shuddering again and her muscles squeezing him, and he let himself go too, and filled her with his pleasure and his hope and his love.
Thea’s body was languid against his. A cool breeze danced over them and she shifted.
“Are you cold?” Rafe murmured. They should get dressed and go inside to plan their life together, but he liked the feel of her.
“It is a deliciously wicked sort of thrill, isn’t it?” she said. “Being naked, outside. I cannot think why everyone doesn’t do it all the time.”
“Can you not.”
She was quiet for a moment. “Actually, yes,” she revised. “I can think of one or two very good reasons why not.”
Rafe laughed and hugged her. Now was the time for talking, but not here under the willows, amid the disarray that followed the giddy heights of sex. He stood and helped her to her feet. Abruptly, modesty snared her: She snatched up her crumpled chemise and held it over her, her cheeks pink, her expression distressed.
He caught her face in his hands. “That was beautiful and right. Even when it is over, it is still beautiful and right.”
She nodded, half smiling, but it was a wistful sort of smile, and something like confusion entered her eyes. It was the first time she’d ever made love, he reminded himself, and not to be taken lightly; the changes of the day were even more momentous for her.