LILA

By the time he entered her again, her head—and heart—were humming. Her skin felt like it was swelling, reaching for him. The hunger in her drove her to pant and pull at him, to cry her need. But he wouldn't give in to the animal of it all.

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She pleaded and he smiled. She kissed him and he loved her with his lips, his tongue. She begged, and he combed her hair back and brought her back to him, to them.

He wouldn't let her run.

He wouldn't let her escape.

He made her look, and feel and be there with him.

With a tenderness that forced her to soften and slow, he touched her, took her, loved her with his body. It was as if he brought everything with him and put it at her feet, to worship at the shrine of her.

Every touch, every sound, it all took her back to the moments that had brought them to this one—all they ways they'd come together in need, in fear, in heat, and in pure, shining love.

His kisses were deep and soulful, needing her, but speaking something deeper too. Just a faint echo of what they had now, but there was a quality to it that took her back to that very first time they'd admitted their desire for each other…

…She swung wildly between aching for more of him, and aching to reassure him, to tell him what she saw in him, what she knew he couldn't see about himself.

But his lips were at that spot under her ear, and she shivered deliciously, arching her back more, burying her fingers in his hair to pull him.

"Lila," he whispered against her skin. She wanted to purr in response. "So beautiful. I've wanted this. Wanted you…" He made a noise deep in his throat as his mouth latched on the spot where her neck met her shoulder. Lila sucked in and nipped his earlobe and he groaned.

She was panting, but she didn't care. When he lifted his head to kiss her again, his breath ruffled her hair and made her shiver…

She smiled into his kiss, remembering the way he'd awoken something in her that she'd never experienced before. The way he'd made her safe and comfortable and desirable in a way she'd never trusted before. Then he'd made her wait—stoked that fire he'd built inside her until finally, finally, they'd taken those vows. That first night had been more than just an adventure for her. It was… the awakening of something that was only deeper and more full today…

… He dropped his head back, the water rippling around them as he swore. "I swear, Lila, it's like you're a drug."

"I know the feeling," she whispered in his ear then kissed him again, harder this time, mouth fully open as if she could consume him—which was how she felt. She wanted him inside her, fully. She wanted nothing between them.

His breath thundered against her cheek, his tongue dancing with hers in a way that made her whimper when it matched the rub and roll happening between them. Then, as his hands slid up her sides, she reached down between them and took him in her hand.

He jerked like she'd shot him and immediately took hold of her hands, grinning wickedly at her. "You do not want to do that right now. Not if you want me to make this good for you."

"But—"

"No buts, Lila." He lifted her hands out of the water and brought them up to his shoulders again. "It's my turn," he whispered.

"You're turn for what?"

"To hold on…"

…And then, as Dane finally began to break, as they both gasped and pleasure broke over her in a wave, she was reminded of that night before Doug got her, when she'd escaped the first attempt from Tish, and Dane had come for her. The fear, the adrenalin, the shock—it had all fallen away the minutes she'd seen him. And he'd rushed for her, breaking pure need open inside her.

He'd given into the animal that time. But later… later they'd been in this place, this same soft, tender, needful place…

… It brought tears to her eyes when he took his huge hands and stroked her hair away from her face so gently the tingle in her scalp skittered all the way down her neck and sides, raising the hairs on her arms as her skin pebbled with the delicious wave of sensation.

"I love you," he whispered, and his voice cracked.

"Oh, Dane," she whispered back, her hands on his wide shoulders. "I love you so much."

He leaned down then, kissing the peak of her breast and laving it with his tongue until the jolts arched her back and her breath came faster, and faster.

But still he kept his own movements slow and strong.

His hands drew slowly down her sides, his fingers writing lines of love on her skin. He stroked her thigh, her stomach, cupped her neck, and used his magical fingers between them until she arched again, and didn't relax until she was crying out. His mouth landed on hers and he swallowed her cries, whimpering into the kiss as she clung to him, riding out her climax.

Then, as his own desire reached for its peak and he gave in to the need, he covered her, one arm bent to frame her head, the other sliding under her hip to pull her into him as he thrust again and again, gasping her name over, and over, and over. His voice trembling, his eyes shining, then buried his face in her neck to bellow his own release.

They sank into each other, panting, shaking—trembling…

It was as if memory and life suddenly collided. Everything she'd felt that night was echoed here, deeper, even more resonant—even more needful. But the foundation was stronger too. As she gasped and pleaded and was drawn out of herself, to him, something within her couldn't be shaken.

His hands on her skin.

His voice in her ear.

Their bodies together, always together.