The Lord's Inconvenient Vow

‘That doesn’t sound very comfortable.’ His voice was choked and she felt his erection pulse against her thigh and she gave it a testing brush with her leg and was rewarded by another groan, his arms coming around her, his hand closing on her behind as he raised her more fully on top of him.

‘It isn’t comfortable, it is... I don’t want to sleep. I want everything, Edge.’

The next moment she was under him, being kissed into oblivion, his hands doing to her front what they’d wreaked on her back, trailing destruction and moving lower.

She’d watched his hands countless times when he worked alongside Poppy and Huxley at the tomb, or later in the room at Bab el-Nur where they recorded their findings. But she’d never realised quite how magical they were, that sure, gentle touch was so much part of his nature. On her skin it felt as though he was discovering her, too, unearthing her from a wasteland, every brush of his skin on hers, ever kiss and taste unveiling a hidden essence that marked who and what she really was. She felt like she was discovering her body with him.

But even as her body came into focus, alive and vivid, her mind was fading. He spoke to her, soft endearments and encouragements as she whimpered or as her own hands clasped around him as if he was holding her above an abyss and any moment now he would let go and she would either fall away into bliss or oblivion.

Though she’d stopped thinking, reality snapped back when his fingers brushed over the hair at the apex of her thighs and skimmed over the sensitive skin of her womanhood. The starburst of sensations only shocked her further, her legs clamping shut.

‘What are you doing?’ she hissed and he raised his head. His cheekbones were marked with colour, his lids heavy. He looked half-lost to passion and that only made her blood heat further, but not enough to chase away her fear.

‘Sam...’ He appeared at a loss for a moment, then he pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth. ‘If you aren’t ready, there is no hurry.’

Ready. She knew what ready meant. All this heaven was merely prelude to the fumbling, the pushing, and the shoving. At least that meant it would soon be over. She wished he could have just...kept doing whatever he had done before this part had to happen. She sighed.

‘I am ready.’

He raised himself a little further, ran his tongue over his lower lip and her gaze fixed on that surface. She wanted to taste it...

‘I am not planning to do anything else this evening but pleasure you. And if you prefer to rest now, I understand. This is hardly a...conventional situation. I don’t wish to hurry you.’

She felt ashamed, a failure before she’d even begun. He might be more mature than Ricki, less clumsy, but soon the recriminations would begin and this time she would truly shrivel because this time she wanted to feel. And to give.

‘I don’t want to sleep. I want to make you happy.’

‘Don’t look so agonised, Sam. This requires trust and we are neither of us very adept at that. Here, close your eyes again. The fate of the world does not hinge on anything that happens or doesn’t happen tonight.’

She placed her hand on his where it lay on the bed beside her.

‘I want to trust you.’

‘Then close your eyes and trust me enough to know I will stop the moment you tell me to. I’ve never lied...to you, Sam.’

Her eyes flickered at the strange hesitation in his voice, but whatever was beneath it, she knew it was true. She trusted Edge. As much as she trusted Lucas and Chase. How strange. Then she let her eyelids sink and settle, her hand just resting against his hip as he settled beside her again.

‘Good,’ he murmured. ‘Now breathe.’

She breathed.

‘In and out.’

She breathed in and out. His lips were brushing her hair, his hand resting lightly on her lower abdomen, brushing idly at the valley next to her hip bone, sending sprinkles of sensation down her leg and up to her breasts. Her body happily took back the clamouring rhythm of need and when his hand moved back over her thigh she trusted him. When he parted her legs again with his leg she rubbed against him, recapturing that sensation of strength and heat.

When his fingers slipped between the curls and glided along the silky centre she still wasn’t prepared for the shiver of pleasure that swept through her as they found the sensitised nub waiting for him, but she pushed back at the fear that this, too, was a trap.

This was Edge and, whatever else, she trusted him.

She concentrated on the sensation of his lips moving very lightly against her cheek and neck, trying not to think about what he was doing down there, but her body was splitting from her mind, focusing on his fingers and the tension they were building. Then he lowered his head, his lips brushing the swell of her breast. Her shoulders hunched in a mix of yearning and resistance and a shivering moan rolled through her. He echoed it and that sound, between delight and abandonment, melted another layer of fear. She didn’t care any more what happened next. All she cared about was being closer, moving against his marvellous, beautiful hands.