by Megan Hart
"Say it again," he ordered in her ear as he left her mouth.
She fumbled the words. He hitched her higher, pressed her center against his stomach and urged her to hook her ankles behind him. Up against the door, hard enough to make it rattle in the frame, he held her, while his eyes bored into hers.
It had been too long since she'd looked into his blue-green eyes, shadowed by black brows. Time had not dimmed her memory of how she looked reflected in his gaze.
She had forgotten how much bigger he was. He engulfed her. Surrounded her. And even so, as light and small as she felt in his arms, this wasn't going to work.
"Not like it is in the movies," she whispered.
Shane laughed. "No."
He let her slide through the circle of his arms to rest her feet on the floor. Arden linked her hand with his and led him toward the stairs. "Come with me."
He paused in the doorway, his hand linked in hers making her stop, too. Arden looked back at him, a big man wreathed in shadows. A shaft of light from the hall window cut across his face, illuminating his eyes.
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure, Shane."
Then she was in his arms again, and he swept her up like a bridegroom carrying his bride across the threshold. The comparison twisted her stomach for a moment, in memory of Jason, and she pushed it aside. Jason was gone. They had loved, married, had a life, but that had ended. He had loved her too much to wish unhappiness for her.
A thought struck her. "Are you sure?"
The moment stretched out between them, as fragile as gossamer. She didn't want to speak, lest she break the thread. If it had taken her a long time to admit this was what she wanted, she knew it had taken Shane even longer.
His kiss answered her. Softer this time, it caressed her mouth instead of plundering it. His hands came up to tangle in her hair, to tilt her head and pull her close to him.
"It's all right," Arden said, as much to soothe herself as him. "It'll all be right."
She took his hand again and led him toward her bed, where fresh, cool sheets welcomed them. She took him down on top of herself, thighs and arms spread to embrace him in the cradle of her body.
They kissed. Slow. Sensual. Mouths opened and closed, feeding their passion. They kissed like they had forever to do it, and she was happy to let him taste her as she tasted him.
Her hips lifted under him, moving her body against him in answer to her body's call. He answered with a rolling thrust, pressing against her. She felt him, hot, long, hard, his cock a rod of iron in the confines of his jeans, and she shivered in anticipation of what it would be like to feel him inside her again.
Shane pulled back and stood to tug his t-shirt off over his head. For a moment he stood silhouetted in the light from outside, his chest and stomach tight with muscle and arms flexing with more of the same as he dropped the shirt to the floor. His hands went to his black leather belt. The silver buckle flashed as he snapped it open. Then the button-fly of his jeans came undone as though by magic, and he pushed the heavy denim over his strong thighs and kicked off the jeans. He wore dark boxer-briefs, the front of which strained to confine his erection. He slid his thumbs into the waistband, but didn't pull them down.
Arden waited, breath caught in her throat, for him to reveal the rest of his body. She'd seen him naked before, that long ago time, but like everything else about him, her memories had been shadowed by time and replaced by other memories. Seeing him now would be like seeing him for the first time.
He slid the soft cotton down, exposing himself to her hungry gaze. She swallowed hard at the sight. His belly hair led to a dark, thick patch. His cock rose from the nest of curls, framed by strong thighs.
She'd leaned up on her elbows to watch him undress, and though her over-sized sleep shirt had ridden up to expose her thighs and give him a glimpse of her own dark curls, when she put her hands to the hem to lift it off entirely, she found she couldn't do it. Time had been good to him. His body was better now than it had been even back then, taut and firm and unblemished by the years.
She, on the other hand...
"What's wrong?" He slid onto the bed beside her, his erection warm on her thigh. Shane put his hand on her belly, over the shirt. "Arden?"
"I'm...I've..." She fumbled the words, not wanting to sound vain. "I don't look the way I did twelve years ago, Shane."
His palm made gentle circles on her belly. "I wouldn't expect you to."
She thought of stretch marks, love handles, breasts changed by nursing and gravity. "I haven't been naked in front of anyone for a long time."
He did not, thankfully, try to talk her out of her sudden shyness. He kissed her again, hand resting on the stomach she worried was too soft. He caressed her, moving his hand up and down the material of her shirt, passing it over her breasts until her nipples poked hard, like pebbles, through the cotton. His hand drifted lower while he still kissed her. He pulled up the hem and put his hand beneath, slid his fingers up the inside of her thighs and brushed them over her curls and rested his hand again on her belly.
With every move, Shane kissed her, every kiss a slow and subtle seduction. He pulled the hem higher, moved his hand with it, cupped her breast and rolled his thumb across her nipple so she gasped inside his mouth.
Without urging her to take off the shirt, Shane left her mouth and slid down the bed. His mouth found her bared skin. She tensed, but didn't protest. He kissed her belly in slow, gentle kisses that traced the curves and lines time had granted her.
Arden's body relaxed beneath him, while tension coiled inside her. Every kiss, every brush of his lips and nip of his teeth, every smooth lave of his tongue, went straight to her center.
He sat up to look at her. "You're beautiful."
And in his eyes, she felt beautiful.
Arden hovered on the brink, her self-consciousness worn away by his luxurious worship of her body, with all its real or imagined imperfections. It no longer mattered she was not the buff and toned twenty-something who'd stripped off her clothes without a second thought. That was then. This was now. This was here.
Arden sat and pulled her shirt off over her head, no longer caring about the rise and fall of her breasts as she moved her arms, or the way the light highlighted her hips and thighs.
She lay back, arms open to him, and he returned to her embrace like a key fitting in a lock. Their bodies matched, hip to hip, belly to belly, mouth to mouth.
His cock nudged between her thighs, the tip teasing her entrance, but before she had time to say anything, Shane moved lower. He nuzzled her springy curls. And then, oh, mercy, then she felt the flick of his tongue on her clit and she gasped, hips twitching so his hands had to grab her to hold them still.
"Shane!"
He didn't answer and he didn't pull away. He licked her slowly, moving his tongue in a small, precise circle around the tight bud. He found her rhythm without effort, matching the pace she craved and easing her toward climax.
His breath caressed her. He kissed her clit, took it between his lips and pressed his mouth on her in a steady pressure that sent her climbing, climbing toward ecstasy.
His fingertip probed along her folds, and he entered her. Her slickness aided him. His finger slid inside without effort, smooth, and she cried out and arched upward against the dual sensations of his touch inside and out.
He made love to her that way for a length of time she could not comprehend. Pleasure built within her, until it seemed impossible she could ever feel anything else. With every lick, every stroke, she was certain she could stand no more, positive she'd crash and spiral downward, but with every touch, she only climbed higher, until she could feel nothing but Shane's mouth, his hand, and could hear nothing but her own moans.
He pushed deep inside her as he suckled, then licked again. And it happened. She broke. Shattered. Her body tensed and released as pleasure thundered through her. Wave after wave of orgasm crashed through her. Her hands found his hair and she cried out his name
as he brought her to a climax so strong it left her breathless and blinded with desire.
After a moment, she became aware of the weight of his head on her stomach. Arden shifted and Shane moved up along her body to kiss her. His palm closed over her still-throbbing center, and she jumped a little at his touch.
She thought she ought to say something, but couldn't speak. The whisper of his breath on her cheek made her smile. His lips curved against her face in response.
"Wow," she said at last.
Shane chuckled. His erection pressed on her leg, and Arden knew that, while she'd just been completely and thoroughly satisfied, he had not. Arden rolled toward him, capturing his penis between their stomachs.
"Make love to me." Simple words, an invitation, but one that made his breath catch.
He shifted against her. "I've been dying to."
She hesitated, thinking of Lida's gift. "In the nightstand drawer."
He nodded and reached one long arm to hook open the small drawer. Too late, she remembered what else she kept in that drawer, but before she could stop him, Shane had pulled out the small cloth pouch containing her butterfly.
Arden covered her eyes with one hand, an embarrassed laugh escaping her. "Oh, brother."
Shane furrowed his brow as he looked at the bag. He peeked inside the open top and laughed. "What's this?"
She made a grab for it. "Nothing."
He held it up so she couldn't reach it. "Let me see."
He pulled out the small plastic insect. It looked much smaller in his hand. Almost innocent...until he thumbed the switch that made it start to buzz and hum.
It was Arden's turn to laugh at his look of surprise when he realized what it was. "Give me that."
Again, he held it away from her. "You use this?"
She grabbed it, caught it, turned it off. "Yes."
He kissed her. "That is so hot."
Arden giggled. "Pervert."
"Show me."
"No!" She put the butterfly away and tightened the drawstring.
"Why not?" His tone teased, but he looked serious.
"Because," Arden said and kissed his lips, "I just came so hard my eyeballs nearly popped out, and I don't think I could possibly come again."
Shane grinned. "I guess I can't argue with that, can I?"
"Absolutely not. Now, where were we?" Arden reached over him and pulled the drawer open again to find the box of condoms. She grabbed one and brought it back, held it up with a smile and tore open the foil. "Ribbed for my pleasure."
Shane stretched out, hands behind his head. His cock rose in the air, a target too tempting for her to resist. Arden moved to sheathe him, but took him in her mouth instead. He throbbed, muttered something and put his hand on her hair, clutching the long strands at the base of her neck and holding them out of the way for her. That show of his consideration was as much a turn-on as anything else he'd done tonight.
He tugged, and she understood he was trying to stop her. Arden pulled away, replacing her lips and tongue with her hand, but not stroking. Shane curled his fingers around hers as though to keep her still.
"I can't take much more," he said. "I'm pretty close."
Arousal speared her at the words. She nodded, understanding how he felt, because she'd just felt the same way. Quickly she slid the condom down his length and in seconds she straddled him.
They both groaned as Arden seated herself on Shane's erection. He twitched inside her, filling her, and she gave another low cry at the sensation of pressure on her g-spot.
"I can't move," she whispered.
Shane chuckled and put his hands on her hips. "Let me help you."
Arden bent low to kiss him, and he lifted his hips to keep himself deep inside. Steadying her, he thrust slowly. Arden matched his pace, their tongues dueling. Breaking for a breath, she slid her mouth along his chin, nipped his jaw, licked the tender spot below his ear and buried her face in the curve of his shoulder. Shane kept moving inside her. His gentle thrusts opened her without pressure, without the pain she'd feared she might feel after so long.
"You're so tight," he murmured as though reading her mind, and Arden laughed.
"I haven't had sex in almost two years," she reminded him.
"Then should we make it last longer?"
Arden sat up to look at him. His hands left her waist to slide up and caress her breasts, her belly, her sides. She let her head tip back to allow her hair to tickle her shoulders in a sensual caress.
"I want it to last forever," she told him. "But I'll be more than happy if it only lasts another five minutes."
He pushed inside her, his voice throaty and hoarse. "Five minutes is going to be a generous estimate, Arden. I'm about to explode."
She tipped her head down to look at his eyes. "Go for it."
With a groan, Shane pumped upward so hard she nearly lost her balance, but again he caught and held her. Again he kept her safe. His hands clutched her hips as he moved. His cock rubbed inside her deliciously, but when he slid one hand around to use his thumb on her clitoris, Arden cried out.
Just like that, fast as that, she was going to come again. She hadn't thought she could. She'd been content not to even try, but now, with his cock slamming inside her and his thumb stroking her, she hurtled toward orgasm.
This was no soft music and candle-lit seduction, no tender love-making on a bear-skin rug in front of a fire. This was down and dirty, fast and furious, this was fireworks, dynamite, nitroglycerin, H-bomb fucking.
It was pure ecstasy.
Arden came, thighs locking in pure orgasmic pleasure against Shane's sides. Her hands sought to steady herself and her fingers clenched on his smooth, muscled chest. She bent forward, hair a curtain in front of her face, and he reached for her with his mouth.
He kissed her, lips mashing, teeth clicking, tongues slicing like swords. She kissed him back the same way.
He thrust upward and filled her, while he cried her name in one long moan that made her answer his. The ripples of her orgasm made her body jerk, and he took his hand from her center to give her release, while he moved inside for a few final strokes.
Arden let her body fall on top of his. Their breath mingled. The beat of his heart echoed in her chest. His lips pressed on her forehead, his arms tightened around her, and Arden shifted to move to his side. Her head again found the curve of his shoulder.
"Just a minute," Shane said and sat up to take care of what he needed to. He lay back and curled his arm around her to bring her back to his shoulder.
They lay in silence for a few moments, so long Arden felt the night creeping up on her. Her eyes grew heavy and threatened to close. Shane's soft breathing soothed her, warm on her face.
"I'm sorry," he said, which made her eyes fly open.
"Sorry? Why?" She tipped her head to look upward, but was unwilling to move enough to see his face.
He tilted his head, and she glimpsed his eye and the curve of his smile. "I wanted it to be a little gentler for you. You know. With a little more finesse."
Hearing him use the word finesse made her feel suddenly tender toward him. Protective. Arden slid up to kiss his temple and run her fingers through his thick, dark hair.
"It was great," she assured him. "My toes are still curled."
That made him laugh and he hugged her. Then they laughed together until the bed shook, and Arden curled in Shane's arms to sleep.
* * * *
The smell of something delicious woke her in the morning, and she rolled over in the tangled sheets to find the unoccupied pillow staring at her. For the first time in a long while, though, the pillow held the indent of another head, a stray dark hair, the scent of a man. The bed beside her was vacant, but it was no longer empty.
Arden smiled and stretched sore muscles and languid, sated limbs. She got out of bed, threw on a robe, and padded down to the kitchen.
"Something smells good," she greeted.
Shane turned from the stove, spatula in hand, and p
ointed it at the table. "Coffee's ready. Pancakes will be done in a minute."
"Pancakes? I'm impressed."
He expertly flipped one golden cake and slid another onto a plate already heaped high with the savory fare. "Don't be. Pancakes and tuna fish sandwiches are about the only cooking I can do."
"Anything I haven't had to cook is great with me." Arden helped herself to a mug of coffee and slid into a chair, not sure what else to do. It felt odd to be sitting in her own kitchen while someone served her. Pleasant, but odd. She was used to bustling around, pouring milk, wiping spills, fetching silverware.
"Jason never cooked," she spoke up, unaware her thoughts had formed into words until she heard them. "He was a whiz with the garbage and mowing the lawn, but he never cooked."
She stared down at the wooden kitchen table, a flea market find she and Jason had stripped and refinished together the first year they were married. She traced a long groove, a scratch they hadn't been able to sand out. The stain had covered the lighter-colored scar, but it would always be there.
Like her husband. She could cover up his memory, but it would always be with her.
She looked up to see Shane staring at her. He put his own coffee on the table, along with the plate of pancakes. Without a word, he slid into the chair next to her and took both her hands in his.
"Do you want to talk about him?"
Arden shook her head and squeezed his fingers. "Not really. Not if you mean do I want to give a long, heartfelt speech about him and our life together, and how his death affected me, how I'm still healing, blah blah blah, yadda yadda yadda. No."
That sounded harsher than she'd meant it, and unfair. She squeezed his fingers again. "I mean that I don't want to have 'a talk' like they do in the movies, where everything gets all tied up in a neat package and the heroine moves on to a new lover, fully content to leave her past behind. Life's not like that, Shane."
He squeezed back and dropped her hands to serve them both food. "I know. I just meant if you wanted to talk about him, that was okay with me."
"I shouldn't have been so sensitive." Arden forked a bite of pancake, but didn't eat it. "I just want you to know, Shane, that...well, I'm not going to just turn off that part of my life. I have the girls. I have memories. I have things I shared with Jason."