The Silken Web

Her head came up quickly. “No, Erik. I was afraid of what was happening, but I was never afraid of you,” she said earnestly.

“And now?”

Now? she asked herself. Now? Now she knew that she loved him. This morning when he had taken the old couple’s picture, she had known it. When he had kissed the lady’s hand as if she were a countess, Kathleen had felt an unfamiliar tug at her heart. His concern for Jaimie and the calm, steady way he had handled the crisis only emphasized how vital he had become to her life.

Yes, she loved him. She wanted him to know the full extent of her love. She wanted to express it. Shyly, she placed her hands on his shoulders and looked up into the fathomless eyes. “I’m not afraid now, either.”

His breath was strained through clamped teeth as she moved half a step closer and her breasts were molded against his bare chest. Carefully, treating her as if she were a precious piece of porcelain that might shatter at any moment, he put his arms around her waist and drew her closer. The contact was electric and jolted them both.

“Kathleen,” he rasped into her hair. “Come lie down with me.” Compelling. Urgent. Soft.

As one unit, they moved toward the blanket he had spread out on the sand. He sat down and looked up at her, again offering her his hand. She hooked her thumbs under the sides of her bikini and eased it down her thighs, past her knees, and then daintily stepped out of it.

He reached for her as she sat beside him. Then, slowly, he lay down, bringing her with him. He rolled onto his side and pulled her against him until they lay face to face.

“If I hurt you in any way, I want you to stop me.”

“You won’t,” she said, brushing back a lock of silver-gilded hair from his creased forehead.

“Yes, I will. I wish I didn’t have to.”

“Then I want you to hurt me. I want this.”

He spoke her name softly before it was trapped by his lips as they captured hers. His tongue outlined her mouth, taking in each nuance, memorizing her unique taste, painting her lips with the nectar of his own mouth. Reaching for her hand, he planted an ardent kiss into its palm and then settled it on his chest.

“I want you to know me, Kathleen. Touch me. I won’t do anything until I know you want me as much as I want you.”

She watched his eyes as her hand began to explore the wonders of his chest. Her fingers waved over the crinkly hair and massaged the hard muscles under the surface. She grew shy when she accidentally touched one of the hard brown nipples nestled in the mat of tawny hair. Erik drew in a sharp gasp, then ceased to breathe altogether, as if in anticipation of her touching him again. Putting down maidenly shyness, her fingers returned to that turgid bud of flesh and examined it with curious fingers.

His swallow was audible. “Am I allowed the same privileges?”

She laughed softly. “By all means.”

She adjusted her position to make her breasts more accessible to him. His hands cupped her, lifted her. The crests knew the sweet aggravation of his thumbs before he lowered his head. She was amazed how hot his mouth felt against her cool skin. What he did with her was so subtle tha

t Kathleen couldn’t describe it. All she knew was that she felt that finessing at her breast deep within her womb, and cried out for him never to stop.

Arching against him, she felt his male heat against her belly. Why had she been frightened of him before? His manhood wasn’t a thing separate and of itself. It was Erik. His essence.

Her hand worked its way down the taut, flat stomach, followed the trail of silken hair on his abdomen until it blended into a thicker, rougher thatch. Then her fingers closed around him.

“Oh, my God, Kathleen. Sweet… yes, yes.” The words were unimportant. The tone of his voice, the urgency underlying the words, said more, told her in a language more forceful than the spoken word that she was pleasing him. His reaction gave her confidence and she grew bolder.

His palm settled on the delta at the top of her thighs and massaged circles over her. Slowly, his fingers traced down that feminine curve until he found her soft and pliant and moist. He moved carefully, slowly, until he lay between her thighs.

Then she felt him gently enter the threshold of that secret place. “I’ll make it as easy as I can. I swear it,” he vowed in a whisper, then gave her all of himself.

Despite her determination not to, she cried out. Her heels dug little cups in the sand underneath the blanket, and her nails made crescent-shaped impressions on the skin of Erik’s back.

“My love,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. Relax, relax.” For long moments, they lay locked in that most intimate of embraces. Timeless. Eternal. He kissed her, lifted the unwanted tears from her cheeks with solicitous lips. His hands smoothed her hair from her face and then threaded the heavy strands through his fingers before burying his face in its radiance and breathing deeply of its scent.

Unknowingly, Kathleen moved, tightening her muscles around him. His quick, shuddering intake of breath sounded like a miniature hurricane in her ear. Realizing she had stirred him, she tried the internal movement deliberately, and this time his response was less subtle.

At first, his thrusts were tentative, but then nature took over and there was no stopping him from reaching that ultimate goal. It was as natural for Erik, at that moment of fulfillment, to cry her name, as it was for the whippoorwill to call plaintively to his mate.

There was something primeval and innocent about their nakedness. The rushing river, the whisper of the wind, the black, starry sky, were all testimonies to the forces of life. No less were Kathleen and Erik.

They became one with the night.