His gaze found mine, his eyes reading the desire there, his hips moving faster, harder. My hands found his arms and gripped them, as if holding them would ground me somehow.
Sensation built, waned, and then built again. We were both reaching for something, our gazes falling to where our bodies joined, the sight making it more strikingly real, his body rising and falling into mine.
“Clare,” he breathed.
He shifted again, the friction so painfully sweet it was almost unbearable, the sensations building until my body came apart, muscles clenching where they’d never clenched before, and for the first time, I found myself calling out, “Max.”
With one final thrust, he joined me, his gratified exhale meeting my cry. He collapsed on top of me, keeping his weight distributed enough that he wasn’t too heavy, his damp skin resting against mine, our bodies still joined but cooling. Our mingled breaths were rushed and uneven, our chests rising and falling.
“God, Clare,” he gasped, rolling so that I was resting now on top of him, my cheek falling against his damp torso, my ear against his heart. It thudded loud and quick.
The moment seemed both too awkward and too perfect for conversation, as if words would spoil it somehow, making something so unique and beautiful into something clumsy and wrong. I didn’t want it to be either of those things. I wanted it to remain special and different and new.
Heathcliff must have felt the same way because there was nothing except the sounds of our ragged breathing as our pulses slowed.
Silence stretched for so long, I thought Heathcliff had fallen asleep when he suddenly asked, “Are you okay?”
His voice startled me, and I inhaled. “I’m okay.” Sore, but okay.
Silence, and then, “You called me Max.”
My lips twitched. “Yeah … I guess I did.”
“Do it again,” he demanded, his voice low.
My head lifted, so that my gaze met his. “Max.”
The way he stared at me made me uncomfortable, and I let my fingers splay across his chest, pressing gently. “You know, I think people look at sex all wrong.”
Heathcliff grimaced, the moment broken but not forgotten. “Now is really not the time to get all philosophical on me, Hawthorne.” He shifted, and I moved so that he could roll to the side of the bed, his hands dropping to his waist. I knew he was discarding the condom, and I kept my gaze averted.
“Seems perfect to me,” I said.
He laughed.
“Really,” I insisted. “People make it all about love. I’m not saying it’s not important to love. It’s just that sex is kind of special on its own, too.” I was babbling, but I couldn’t seem to make myself stop. “Like this really incredible mind meld, only with bodies rather than minds.”
Heathcliff rolled back onto the bed, his arm pulling me against him. “Okay, first, are you really comparing sex to a mind meld?”
I flushed. “I read a lot of my uncle’s old Star Trek books growing up. Think about it, though. It’s an incredible connection even if affection isn’t involved.”
He froze. “Are you saying you don’t love me?” he asked.
An odd expression crossed his face, and I stared. “No, that’s not what I’m saying. It’s just … wait. Are you saying that you do?”
Our gazes locked. There was no reply from Heathcliff, but I didn’t need a response. I saw what I needed to know in his eyes, and the pulse that had begun to slow, picked up speed again.
He cleared his throat. “So sex is kind of like a mind meld, huh?”
He stumbled on the words, and I jumped on them. Anything to dispatch the uneasiness between us. It was another lesson I was learning. Feelings are fast. Try to outrun them, and they catch you.
“More like a body meld,” I amended.
He chuckled, his fingers running down my arm until they met my hand. “Did you read comics, too, growing up, or just books?”
His fingers laced with mine, and I glanced at our joined hands. “Oh, I read comics. All kinds. I might have a thing for Captain America and Thor. I also have a girl crush on Rogue.”
“Ugh!” Heathcliff groaned. “Whatever. The real badass superheroes are definitely the Hulk and Superman.”
“The Hulk?” I snorted. “Let me guess. You chose him because he’s big, mean, and green?”
“Two words for you.” Heathcliff’s face was suddenly nose-to-nose with mine. “Hulk Smash!”
I grinned. “Two words. Anger management.”
Heathcliff chuckled, and then fell silent. After a moment, he inhaled. “Hawthorne—”
“You don’t have to say anything,” I interrupted.
His fingers tightened around mine. “You do realize this is going to change things between us?”