“We’re just going to stay like this a moment, okay? Until you feel better.”
“It already feels better.” She reached up to his face, settling her palm over his scars. “I dreamed of this. Of being with you.” The sweetest smile of promise teased the corners of her mouth. “We did this a lot in my dreams.”
He chuckled, the action causing him to move a bit inside her. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back against the pillow. Shit, shit, shit. He didn’t want to cause her pain. And then, she moved, pushing against him, releasing, pushing. He held still, letting her move, letting her guide this according to what her body needed. “Xander. Please…I’m good now.”
Gently, slowly, carefully, he pulled himself through her slickness. The friction of her wrapped so tightly around him was a beautiful mercy. He paused, just the tip of him still inside her, then just as easy slid back into her heat.
“Damn,” she said, her body matching his movements.
He settled more solidly over her, their bodies touching everywhere. He buried his face in her hair and continued the steady pace. Forced himself to go slow, when what he really wanted was to go at her with everything, all of him. Every little piece. He wanted all of her. He wanted her heart and mind and body and—fuck—her soul. He wanted to brand her, mark her, own her, make it known to everyone that she was his by burying himself so deep inside her that when he came, a piece of him would live inside her forever.
But this time—her first time—wasn’t the time for wild, deep, and dirty pumping.
She shifted her hips and he slid impossibly deeper. “Xander. I need more. Harder. Faster.”
His restraint shattered. His body exploded against hers. Pumping and thrusting, giving her what she wanted, what he needed. Faster and harder and deeper.
“Xander. Xander. Xander.” She chanted his name as if it were magic. Her body clenched around him.
His orgasm gathered, pulling energy from his extremities, the power of it converging on his dick. Control vanished. He rammed into her. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and he couldn’t tell who was saying what—hell, it probably wasn’t even words—but they were fucking loud. And it was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.
*
Wow. Holy wow. Isleen giggled. She couldn’t help it. The sound effervesced out of her on a wave of genuine joy. Never in her life had she ever felt what she’d just felt with Xander. He chuckled, his breath teasing her hair.
“Damn. That was ama—” His voice sliced off. He lifted his head and cocked it to the side, listening to something. Carefully he withdrew from her body, the friction of that small movement sending a spark of desire up her spine.
He tore out of her grasp so unexpectedly that her arms stayed around the airspace his body had inhabited as if she were holding on to a ghost.
“Shit. Fuck. Goddamn. Stay here.” His tone wasn’t friendly or even mildly cordial. He leaped off the bed, snagged his jeans, and rammed his legs into them, then ran across the bedroom and disappeared down the stairs.
What. Just. Happened? Isleen sat up in bed. For the first time, she noticed her surroundings. The bedroom overflowed with cheerful morning sunshine bouncing off the fat, blond logs of the cabin’s walls. A railing overlooked the downstairs, but from where she sat, she couldn’t see beyond the ceiling, walls, and windows. She scooted to the edge of the bed. “Xander?”
Somewhere downstairs a door opened.
“She’s gone.” Row’s voice quivered with each word, making her sound her age. “I’ve looked everywhere.”
“Row—” Xander tried to cut in.
“When she didn’t come down for supper, I checked on her. Poor thing looked like she’d fallen asleep the moment she got out the shower. I didn’t wake her up. But this morning when the front door was open—open, Xander—I knew. I just knew something had happened to her.”
“Row—” Xander tried again, his voice louder this time.
“Your father is useless. Matt’s already left for his run. I don’t know what else to do. Should we call the police?”
Isleen snagged the sheet off the bed, wrapped it around herself, and headed to the stairs.
“Row—” This time both she and Xander said it at the same time.
Xander and Row turned toward her.
“Well, shit.” Row clasped her hand over her granny Maude’s portrait. “I just interrupted… I knew there was something special between the two of you.” Row’s wrinkled face took on a wise-ole-owl expression as she looked back and forth between them and chuckled to herself.
“It’s not like that,” Xander said.