Another Dawn (50 page)

      
She nodded. "I don't know what kind of woman I am–was," she said, violent need rocketing through her. "Naughty or nice, all I know is what I want–what I need. Now."
 

      
"Now?"

      
"Luke, do I have to draw you a picture?" She pulled his hand from her shoulder and dragged it to her bare breast. "An x-rated picture?"
 

      
His gaze drifted down the length of her, then back to her face. "You're sure?"

      
"Now, Luke."
 
Her voice fell to a husky whisper. "Now."

      
Her nipple burned a virtual hole in Luke's palm. Something snapped inside him. Desire, love, relief? Yes, everything hit him at once. The woman offering herself to him was much more than a hot, naked babe sending out an invitation.

      
This was Sofie–the woman he loved.

      
Even in the dimness, her eyes were wide but not frightened. She lifted her lips to his in offering and he was lost. With a guttural growl, he hauled her firmly against him in a single powerful tug.
 

      
Lightning flared between them, hot and thick, crackling with an intensity that stole his breath. He took her mouth gently at first, but she made it clear that gentleness was not what she wanted. Or needed.

      
That suited him fine. The fire flared too hot and out of control. Their only defense against the blaze was to let it burn.

      
Lips, tongues, teeth, nothing held back, Luke took and gave in turn. That urgent, commanding kiss was the catalyst that broke the dam of reserve for them both. Suddenly they were all hands and mouths, touching, stroking, tugging at his remaining clothing.
 

      
Naked and panting, he pulled back to gaze into her eyes, drowning in their blue brilliance. Savage need spiked from her and into him, urging him to take her without preamble.

      
"Now, Luke," she urged, seeming to read his thoughts. "Now."

      
Just like the night he'd awakened her from that erotic dream, she knew exactly what words would drive him over the precipice. Yes, he'd take her now. He had no choice and she obviously shared his urgency. Raw need slammed into him with a violence that stunned him.

      
Naked and breathless, they faced each other, waiting for the other to make the next move.

      
Then she nearly killed him.

      
Reaching between them, she took his erection in both hands. Like a shotgun with both barrels cocked, he nearly exploded on contact. Of course, Sofie had no way of knowing how long it had been for him...how little sexual experience he really had.
 

      
Feel your way, Nolan
. He could do this. On the job training was the only way to fly. For every action, there should be a reaction, or something like that.

      
She'd touched him right where it counted, so now it was his turn. Cupping her bottom in his hands, he lifted her up and against him, savoring the gasp of shock and pleasure that erupted from her.
 

      
"Please," she whispered, her tone almost pleading.
 

      
Her arms slipped around his neck and she kissed him again as he dipped his hand between her legs. She was hot and ready, and she jerked her mouth away from his, arching her neck backward.

      
She moaned a sultry, sexual, sound and wrapped her legs around his hips. Desperate, he answered her primitive growl with one of his own as he lowered her to the bunk. As agile as a gymnast, she shifted her legs from his hips to his waist, pulling him closer.

      
He froze over her, his throbbing tip against her warm, moist folds. She was hot, and he knew she'd be tight. A shudder of longing rippled through him, but–one more time–he searched her face for reassurance. Her eyes were wide, glazed with passion, begging for release.

      
"Come home, Luke," she said.

      
And he did.

      
He thrust into her. Powerfully. She pressed her cheek against his sweaty shoulder, urging him on with words that would've shocked the good citizens of Redemption. Her words and moans floated around him in an erotic cloud as he drove into her again and again.

      
She contracted around him in primal hunger and need–her nails raked his shoulders. Hot, so hot. She met him, drew from him, demanded all he could give, arching and writhing against him and with him.

      
Like a vise, she swallowed his full length and cried out in completion. Luke strained and exploded within her, culminating their mutual need.

      
Home at last.

      
Mere inches from his lips, Sofie savored his expression for her future memories. They stayed like this, staring and panting, for what seemed like forever. The only sounds she heard were the howls of the wind outside and the slowing thunder of their heartbeats.

      
He lifted his upper body from her, though he remained buried inside her. She wriggled slightly against him, smiling when he winced.

      
Gazing down at her, he said, "I love you, Sofie."
 
Simply. Clearly.
 

      
Exhilaration shot through her.
He's not a priest and he loves me
. "I love you, too. So much..."
 
A tear spilled from the corner of her eye and he kissed it away.

      
All the weeks of denial and guilt were gone forever. Now she could love and be loved. Nothing else mattered. All that mattered was his gentleness stirring the fire in her heart and soul, and–at long last–her body.

      
"Sofie."
 
His whisper caressed her cheek as he lowered his lips to hers.

      
A moan rumbled from deep in her throat as her insides sprang to life all over again. His mouth was silky yet demanding–filled with promise. Luke broke their kiss and gazed into her eyes again. His pupils were huge, obliterating all but a thin ring of silver around their black centers.

      
"I want you," she said.

      
"Again?" He chuckled, waggling his eyebrows.

      
"Always."

      
He pulled her more tightly against him, flaunting his renewed ability to satisfy them both yet again. Lowering his mouth to hers, his tongue converged with hers in a primitive and unmistakable reproduction of what their bodies had just experienced.
 

      
On fire, she was at the brink of losing conscious thought yet again. She'd hungered for this–denial was futile. Ever since that night on the parlor floor, she'd dreamed of completion, of consummation, of victory.

      
And once tasted, she knew she'd never get enough of this man.

      
He raised up to stare down at her again. Her heart thundered in synch with her libido as candid hunger and desire flared in his smoky eyes. Even that brief moment of tranquility was imbued with sinful yearning. Wild, fundamental, human need.

 
      
This was much more than just great sex. Love fueled her, drove her, weakened yet empowered her at the same time.

      
Sweeping her lips with the tip of her tongue, she gave him a lingering smile. She rested her cheek against his shoulder, cherishing the texture of his skin. "Make love to me–with me–again. Now."

      
"I think now is your favorite word. Woman, you make me crazy."
 
He nuzzled the side of her neck, driving her mad as he traced slow, lazy circles. "I love you so much it scares the hell out of me."
 

      
"Good. Hold that thought."
 
She smiled a secret smile against his warm skin.
He loves me
. Joy swept through her all over again, leaving her agog for a few breathless moments. They were companion time-travelers, spirit-mates.
 

      
This was their destiny.

      
"Wait right here."

      
He climbed off her and ran across the room, returning with the kettle of melted snow and a rag. Her gaze feasted on every delicious inch of him as he dampened the rag with steaming water. After setting the kettle aside, he bathed her very gently with the warm rag. The texture of the soft cloth against her skin drove her mad with desire.

      
Then she took the rag from him and returned the favor, savoring the feel of the warm dampness skimming over his skin. She paid special attention to certain areas of his anatomy.

      
Growling, he tossed the rag to the rough wood floor and playfully shoved her down to the bunk again. As he covered her again, she glanced between them at his aroused state. Her insides clenched as she contemplated the feel of him buried deep inside her again.

      
Her physical need was powerful, but even that paled beside the love she felt for this man. She'd been prepared to carry that love to her grave, without ever touching him or being touched by him.
 

      
This was nothing less than a miracle. Tears filled her eyes. Yes, physical love fueled by spiritual love was truly a miracle.

      
She had it all.

      
Moaning, Luke kissed her, plundering and seeking. But just as quickly, he abandoned her mouth for new territory.

      
He definitely didn't need her to draw him a picture.

      
She groaned as his lips blazed a path down her throat to the slope of her shoulder, sketching warm, wet circles. He bent down and kissed her just beside her swollen breast.

      
"I've dreamed of kissing your butterfly," he muttered.

      
Sofie laughed softly, then gasped as he made his dream come true. With his tongue, he outlined the shape of her tattoo, gradually easing his way up the curve of her breast.

      
Her entire body grew heavy and boneless as he lingered over her for a few profoundly erotic moments. She thrust her hips against his, urging him to take her.

      
"You are an impatient wench," he murmured against her flesh.

      
"Only for you."
 

      
He gave her a roguish grin, then dipped his head to her breast. Coaxing her nipple deeply into his mouth, he suckled until she thought she'd die from the want of more. Watching him augmented her desire and reminded her of the miracle of their love.

      
He cupped her breasts in his hands, sharing himself between them. She lost herself to rising need, lacing her fingers through the dark curls at his nape, savoring the conflicting textures of this man she loved.

      
Brushing his tongue across her tender flesh, he glanced up at her. The hunger shimmering in his eyes made Sofie simply dissolve in a puddle of love and need.