Lila

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Her skin was a night sky and his fingers lit fireworks everywhere he touched. He groaned a deep, tearing sound in his chest that vibrated against her back when his hands found her back.

"Fuck, Lila," he rasped in her ear, his lips and tongue tasting her even as his hands explored her softest places. "You're so ready for me."

"I want you, Dane. Always. I'm always ready for you," she whispered the confession. "Every day. Every time you look at me, I'm ready." He moaned like she was hurting him, but she could feel him behind her, hard and hot, as he started to shake and pressed into her back.

"Get on the bed," he said, but even as she started to crawl up, he lifted her from behind, positioning her on all fours, his breath shuddering as he used one hand to stroke between her legs, while the other cupped her breast and tweaked her nipple.

"Oh… f—oh… Dane," she gasped. Her skin pebbled from her neck to her knees, in waves that matched the slide of his touch. Then, still not entering her, he curled around her so his chest rubbed her back and his thighs brushed hers. He was so tall he covered her, was able to touch her everywhere at once. His mouth dragged against her neck and he swore under his breath when she pushed back against him. "Please!" she pleaded.

"Are you sure—"

"Dane, please!" she cried.

Like she'd unleashed him, he straightened, took hold of her hip with one hand, and positioned himself with the other, then pushed into her in one, long slide that had them both crying out.

"Never been like this… you're perfect," he stammered. "I can't… fuck."

She almost made a joke, but he pulled all the way out until she was empty and her stomach dropped—then he pushed all the way back in and she almost came.

The noises that erupted from her throat were insensible, torn out of her. Her arms shook and she dropped her elbows just as he slid out and pushed in again and it hit a spot inside her that threatened to make her skin explode.

Again, and again, and again.

His breath was heaving and he rasped her name between curses, but she couldn't do anything except give herself over the sensations he was dragging out of her.

Then he curled over her again and turned her head, kissing her, his tongue matching the rhythm between them until her entire world was his skin, the rush and sparkle on her own, and the rising wave inside her.

He pulled away from the kiss with a groan. "I can't stop, can't stop," he grunted. "I have to… Lila…"

"Please! Dane! Please!"

With a curse, he took her hips in his hands and grunted as he pulled her back against his height of his thrust so she felt him from her scalp to her toes. Noises she'd never made before tore out of her throat in time with his thrusts as he pounded into her over and over again, crying his pleasure, calling her name, their skin slapping with the force of their joining.

Then he shuddered and, wrapping an arm around her middle, pulled her back against him with a roar. Suddenly she couldn't see, couldn't hear. She was just an explosion of feelings as her orgasm roared over her and she called his name in breathless gasps, over and over.

They were both trembling, Dane grunting and cursing as he tried to get his breath back. He curled over her, holding her weight because she had fallen slack over his arm and was having some trouble finding her way back to reality too.

"Never stop making love to me," he whispered. "Please." Then he lifted her, staying inside her as he slid himself onto the bed and laid them both down, spooning her body, one arm under her head, the other over her waist, and his legs curled behind hers.

She couldn't get enough of him. Even now as her breath returned and flashes of the feelings he'd drawn out of her ran through her head, her heart wanted to rush again. Her body wanted to move.

He was an addiction.

Even though she was still angry.

They lay that way, silent, for a long while. He stroked her body, but slowly and without invading. Just enjoying their closeness. And she enjoyed it too. Wanted nothing more, as a matter of fact. But as his fingers slid up trail over her breast again, she took his hand in hers. He laced their fingers and nuzzled her neck.

She never wanted to lose this. Never wanted to be away from him. She didn't want to miss a single moment.

And he wanted to sustain a lie that would force them to keep more distance than they needed, even if only for the benefit of other people.

When would it stop? When he was dead? Or she was? Was that what it would take before he would just give over to this? He'd married her! He'd vowed to give his life for her. But he couldn't let people know that?

It settled like a chill on her heart then, that he was never going to be satisfied. There would never be a moment when he felt safe. And because of that, he was always going to hide her—this—from the world.

She didn't know if he could feel her tension, or if his thoughts had just run in the same direction as hers, but when she opened her mouth, it was as if they were still in the middle of the conversation.

"Are you going to give me any choice?" she asked quietly, hopefully.

He sighed against her hair and curled his body even tighter around her. "No," he said in a tortured whisper.

She didn't reply. Just slid off the bed—pushing off his hands as she pulled off of him, grieving the sudden distance between them—and stalked into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

*****

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