What was she thinking? That she wanted him. That she loved him. That even though she knew this was wrong, it felt like they were married, and she just wanted it to be real, if only for this one night.
“Kiss me,” she said, because she needed to take control of the moment. She needed to be in this moment, not floating off into the future, into a world where Edward’s smile was no longer hers.
“A little bossy all of a sudden,” he teased.
But she was having none of it. “Kiss me,” she said again, wrapping one of her hands behind his head. “Now.”
She pulled him down, and when their lips met, her hunger exploded. She kissed him like he was her very air, her food and water. She kissed him with everything she felt inside, everything she could never tell him. It was a declaration and an apology; it was a woman clutching at bliss while she had the chance.
And he returned it all with equal passion.
She would never know what came over her, how her hands seemed to know what to do, pulling him close, reaching for the fastening of the breeches he still had not taken off.
She let out a cry of frustration when he pulled away from her, hopping from the bed to tear off the offending garment. But she did not take her eyes off him, and God above, he was beautiful. Beautiful and very, very large, enough to make her eyes widen with apprehension.
He must have seen her expression because he chuckled, and when he got back on the bed, his expression was somewhere between roguish and feral. “It’ll fit,” he said, his voice husky against her ear.
His hand slid down her body to the cleft between her legs, and it was only then that she realized how very hot and wet she’d gotten. Hot and wet and needy. Had he pleasured her on purpose? To make her ready for him?
If so, it had worked, because she felt an overwhelming hunger for him, a need to take him within her, to join her body to his and never let go.
She felt him press up against her, just the very tip of him, and her breath caught.
“I’ll be gentle,” he promised.
“I’m not sure I want you to be.”
A shudder ran through his body, and when she looked up, his jaw was tightly clenched as he fought for control. “Don’t say things like that,” he managed to get out.
She arched against him, trying to somehow get even closer. “But it’s true.”
He moved forward, and she felt herself opening to him.
“Am I hurting you?” he asked.
“No,” she said, “but it feels very . . . strange.”
“Strange good or strange bad?”
She blinked a few times, trying to make sense of what she was feeling. “Just strange.”
“I’m not so sure I like that answer,” he murmured. His hands reached behind her, pulling her open wider, and she gasped as another inch of his manhood pressed forward. “I don’t want this to be strange.” His lips found her ear. “I think we’re going to need to do this very often.”
He sounded different, almost untamed, and something very feminine inside of her began to sparkle. She had made him this way. This man—this big, powerful man—was losing control, and it was all for a need of her.
She had never felt so strong.
The sensations weren’t like the ones from before, though. When he had been using just his hands and his lips, he had whipped her into a storm of desire and then sent her soaring with pleasure. But now it was more that she had to get used to him, accommodate his size. It didn’t hurt, but it wasn’t as lovely as before. At least not for her.
But for Edward . . . Everything she had been feeling before, every last clench of need she saw on his face. He was loving this. And that was enough for her.
But not, apparently, for him, because he frowned and stopped moving.
She looked up at him with questioning eyes.
“This will not do,” he said, dropping a kiss on her nose.
“Am I not pleasing you?” She’d thought she was, but maybe not.
“If you pleased me any more I might perish,” he said with a wry expression. “That’s not the problem. I am not pleasing you.”
“You did. You know you did.” She blushed when she said this, but she could not bear for him to think she was not enjoying herself.
“You do not think you can be pleasured twice?”
Cecilia felt her eyes grow very wide.
Edward’s hand slipped between their bodies and found the most sensitive spot of her womanhood.
“Oh!” She’d felt him moving there, but still, the sensation was so intense she could not help but let out a cry of surprise.
“That’s more like it,” he murmured.
And then it all began to build again. The pressure, the need . . . it was so great she did not notice how he was stretching her with each stroke. Every time she thought there could not possibly be more of him, he pulled back and then plunged forward, reaching even further into her soul.
She had not known she could be so close to another human being. She had not known she could be so close and want even more.
She arched her back, her hands clutching at his shoulders as his body finally came fully flush against hers.
“My God,” he breathed, “it’s like I’ve come home.” He looked down at her, and she thought she saw the slightest sheen of moisture in his eyes before his mouth captured hers in a torrid, passionate kiss.
And then he began to move.
It began as slow, steady strokes, creating an exquisite friction inside of her. But then his breath jerked into gasps, and whatever rhythm he’d begun sped into a frenzy. She felt it growing within her too, that race toward the precipice, but she was nowhere as lost as Edward was, at least not before he adjusted his position and sucked one of her nipples into his mouth.
She cried out at the shock of it, at the impossible connection between her breast and her womb. But she felt it there . . . dear God above, when his fingers began to tease the other nipple, she felt it between her legs and she began to quiver and clench.
“Yes!” Edward growled. “My God, yes, squeeze me.” He grabbed her breast, harder than she’d have ever thought she’d like, but she loved it, and with a sudden piercing jolt she came apart again.
“Oh God,” Edward was grunting. “Oh God oh God oh God.” His movements grew almost crazed, and he was pounding forward, and then he seemed to go almost still, caught in one last thrust before moaning her name and collapsing atop her.
“Cecilia,” he said again, his voice barely a whisper. “Cecilia.”
“I’m right here.” She stroked his back, her fingertips making lazy circles across the indentation of his spine.
“Cecilia.” And then again. “Cecilia.”
She liked that he couldn’t seem to say anything besides her name. Heaven knew, she wasn’t thinking much beyond his.
“I’m crushing you,” he mumbled.
He was, but she didn’t mind. She liked the weight of him.
He rolled off her, but not all the way, leaving himself draped partly over her. “I never want to stop touching you,” he said. He sounded incredibly drowsy.