She sobbed and he shook his head, kissing her lips slowly, a kiss of gentle reassurance. “It’s okay to be happy. It’s okay to care about me. Nothing changes what we agreed to, and what we’re doing.”
She wanted to tell him this wasn’t about that, but it was. Of course it was. He’d pulled apart her explanations and seen right to the heart of her biggest fear. She didn’t want to care too much.
“This is just sex,” she said firmly, needing to cling to that now more than ever.
But he brushed it aside. “No, it’s not. It’s two people who like each other and are having fun getting to know each other while having sex. It’s not as neat as we thought it was going to be, but it’s still okay. I promise.”
Lauren cried as she kissed him, her footing slipping, the danger palpable. She should stop this. She needed to stop it, didn’t she?
Chapter Nine
HIS HANDS MOVED FAST, pushing her shirt up over her head and dropping it so that it landed with a silent whoosh against the dewy blades of grass at their feet. His mouth devoured hers, his hands reassuring her with their steadfast worship, the earthly pleasures of this act something he had faith in – and needed her to as well.
It wasn’t clear if Lauren moved first, or Raf, but they came to the ground together, on their knees first, so the dew soaked his jeans and he barely noticed, much less cared. He kissed her all the way to the ground, laying her back amongst the citrus, breathing her in, her sweetness mixed with the blossoms that surrounded them. She made a noise, shifting slightly, and he stopped at the abrupt movement.
“What
is it?”
She held up a twig, a piece that had snapped from a nearby tree, with a thorned barb at the base. Taking it from her fingertips, he tossed it aside before reaching for her bra straps and pushing them down her arms impatiently. Need drove his actions. He didn’t reach behind her to unclasp the thing, simply kept pushing until her breasts tumbled over the top. He made a noise of relief before cupping them with his hands, his mouth seeking hers again, his body pressed to hers, his legs straddling her, pinning Lauren to the cool ground.
Her own hunger was just as urgent; her hands pushed at his jeans impatiently, fumbling with the button so he moved one hand to help her, releasing them and pushing them lower, kicking out of them and ripping his shirt from his head, throwing it somewhere near where hers had landed. Only the sound of their frantic breathing filled the orchard.
He lifted her hands so her arms were above her head and pinned them there with one hand, his fingers curved over her wrists as his body tormented hers with his nearness. He pressed his arousal to her sex, too many clothes preventing them from being together. That didn’t stop her from crying out his name and lifting her hips in a desperate invitation. He kissed her hard, needing her to understand. Understand what? That sex was sex and that this would end but that for now this was perfect. Life was full of chapters – some of them good, some of them bad – and the only way to survive the bad was to enjoy the good to their fullest. This wasn’t ending before they were ready.
He made the promise to himself and to her, his free hand pushing at her jeans, lowering them down her body. She lifted her body to help, kicking her legs, his foot did the rest. They were so close to naked. He brushed his arousal to her and she whimpered, trying to pull her hands free; he understood. No more waiting. He disposed of his boxers, the agony of so many clothes one that only enhanced his anticipation of possession.
He nudged her legs further apart with his knee then drove into her, keeping her arms right where they were, his mouth claiming hers, his body melded to Lauren’s, something so primal and perfect about making love to her like this – the absolute surrender to the imperative of what they shared. God help him, he wanted to do this forever. Not forever, but for an eternity in this one night.
She lifted her back and writhed against the cool ground; he moved harder, faster, an ancient, animalistic rhythm driving him to make love to her like this, imprinting on her in some vital way.
Her voice filled the orchard and burst through his soul. He heard her and felt her and understood her. In that moment they were truly one, mixed in every way.
Desperation filled her tone and he understood. He moved one hand between them, brushing his fingertips over her sex as he thrust into her; she fell apart in his arms. He held her tight, releasing her wrists so she could grab hold of his shoulders for support and he held her while her breathing escaped from her lungs and her body was wracked with tension and he held her until her breathing slowed. Then, he began to move once more, this time more gently, kissing her slowly, teasing her with his tongue until her heart was racing so hard it was beating against his chest.
“Please,” she said, over and over, and a rush of sheer masculine pride burst through him. Hearing her beg for him was its own special aphrodisiac. He moved his mouth to her breasts, flicking her nipples with his tongue while he moved within her and she cried out with each touch, raw, aching, familiar.
His own pleasure built within him, brick by brick, movement by movement, until he was matching her short, sharp, rasping breaths, his body moving until finally, both were set free, cascading together in a fevered, mix of voices and pleasure. He dropped his body on top of hers and kissed her, selfishly swallowing her cries, wanting them too, wanting everything of hers she could give him, just for that night. Nothing lasts forever but pleasure could change your soul.
She hadn’t noticed before, but it was one of those perfect starlit nights. The sky was darker than dark, like an ink pot she’d spilled on her father’s desk one afternoon – a true enthusiast, he liked to grade his students’ assessment with a quill. Stars burst across the ink, little sparks of light like pricks in fabric. A cluster was right above them, and it seemed to have its own weight. She felt that if she lifted her hand she could almost touch it.
She didn’t.
She stayed right where she was, pressed by the weight of Raf’s body against the grass in the citrus grove, her legs wrapped around his waist, his heaviness completing her in a way she allowed herself – for a moment – to relish.
He pushed up on his elbows, his eyes seeking hers. She didn’t look away now.
Strange, she’d never noticed that either – how like the galaxy his eyes were. Dark, speckled with flecks of silver and grey. She lifted a hand and traced the sharp line of his cheek – cheekbones a supermodel would kill for – then pressed her finger into the divot of his chin.
She didn’t know what to say, and that didn’t seem to matter. Maybe their bodies had said everything they needed to. Or maybe she was just riding some kind of magical unicorn sex cloud and delirium was making her forget all the Very Sensible reasons she’d decided to put an end to this.
Her hand roamed to his shoulder, exploring his clavicle slowly, moving inwards by degrees. His breath fanned her temples. Warm, citrus air swirled around them. Lauren inhaled it, missing nothing, noting everything.
“Come home with me.”
The words seemed to reach her from a very long way away. She sighed heavily. It wasn’t an answer – not a ‘yes’, nor a ‘no’. It was simply a method of processing.
He moved, pulling away before joining her on the grass, so they lay side by side, staring up at the same sky, and all the stars that bound them.