by Ann Macela
She lay still for a minute, simply luxuriating in the feel, the pleasure, the rightness of having this man in her bed. Especially after the loneliness of sleeping by herself for so many years. She cracked an eye open at the clock. Two in the morning. Oh, good. Lots more hours to sleep before the sun came up.
What would the morning bring?
Now that was the stupidest question she’d ever asked herself. Was she ready? Why was she even asking herself that question? You’d think she was still a virgin, afraid of making love for the first time. Had being alone so long or Billy’s loss made her afraid? Had the speed of the connection, the abrupt change to her situation, her outlook, and her future frightened her? Did any of that matter?
No, it didn’t. Yes, she was ready.
The soul-mate phenomenon had brought them together. It didn’t play games or make mistakes. What had he said about their similar decision-making methods? She had the information, and she had made her decision. Smiling, she let herself fall back into extremely pleasant dreams.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The next time Johanna woke up, she could tell from the light hitting her eyelids that it was morning, probably between seven and eight. She was on her left side, facing him. Even with closed eyes, she knew exactly where he was—on his right side, facing her. With their little fingers hooked together, their forearms touched along their lengths, and their legs were entangled, her top one over his.
When she opened her eyes, she gazed straight into his, which darkened as his pupils expanded until only a rim of brown remained. Her center warmed, important body parts tingled and ached, and her heart began to thud against the walls of her chest.
“Good morning,” he said in a very low voice and with a very slight smile.
What she heard in his tone and saw in his gaze was, I know exactly how I feel, right now. I know exactly what I want, right now. I want you. Right now.
All her previous fears fell away, and she brought her decision to life by answering not his words, but his tone and his gaze. “I know how I feel and what I want. You. Now.”
She raised up and leaned forward and kissed him.
His arms went around her like he’d never let her go, and he kissed her back.
His heat and his scent and his taste, all male, all Saxt, flooded her body. Even through her T-shirt, his caress sent sparks of excitement flowing from his fingers up and down her nerves. A hum filled the air, and her center vibrated. She heard herself make a funny little sound, part whimper, part purr. He answered with a deep rumble of a growl.
They shared no sedate, pleasant, I’m-glad-we’re-finally-together kiss. No careful, tentative meeting of lips and tongue. No insipid, or curious, or indecisive, or conditional, or experimental little touch.
No, in a heartbeat their kiss ignited desire, lust, and passion as if it had cast incendium and exploded fireballs inside their centers.
They both devoured and plundered, teased and dueled, nipped and sucked, claimed and branded. Power hummed inside them and between them when their centers aligned.
If she had ever doubted they were mates, this kiss alone proved it absolutely.
She had been starving—now he was a feast laid before her. She had been lonely—now her heart was full with him. She’d been used to thinking she had a limited, solitary future—now all possibilities were open.
She was his and he was hers.
They were still on their sides, facing each other, when he ran his top hand up under her shirt and around to cradle her breast, to fondle, to tease her already hardened nipple.
Oh, that small touch wasn’t enough. She pressed herself against him, rubbed one hand down his bare back. That’s what she needed—skin-to-skin contact. All over. Now.
She broke the kiss, pushed back to sit up. He was surprised, but when she wiggled the shirt out from under her, he rose also, to help her lift it and toss it away.
Before she could reach for him, he put his hands on her shoulders. “Wait,” he said hoarsely. “Let me look.”
His gaze seemed to have hands of its own because, as it traveled down her body, heat followed, her breasts grew heavy, and her nipples tightened, almost to the point of pain. When he laid her down and began to kiss, lick, and suckle first one breast, then the other, she moaned, fisted his hair in her hands, and arched, urging him on.
When he cupped her, when he pressed his fingers against her most intimate place, her hips rose to increase the sensation.
From her breasts through her center to between her legs, and back up, flashes of energy raced, inflaming every cell they passed through.
And creating in her an enormous need. A huge want. An overwhelming must have.
“Saaaxxxt.” she groaned and tugged on his hair. When he raised his head, his eyes were almost totally black, and he was panting. So was she.
“In me,” she whispered, lifting her hips again. “Now.”
“In you,” he rasped. He pulled her panties down and off and raised up enough to free his erection from his boxers.
It only took a second for him to move between her knees and brace himself on his arms above her. Exactly where she wanted him—almost. When she grasped him and positioned him for entry, he closed his eyes and threw his head back with a groan.
He lowered his head to capture her gaze again. She knew he meant every single word when he stated in that deep, low voice, “I’m yours, and you’re mine.”
She nodded. She meant them, too. “I’m yours, and you’re mine.”
He slowly pushed into her, and she felt herself stretching to accommodate the unaccustomed intrusion. He was big and thick, and it had been so long since she’d made love, she wasn’t surprised at her tightness. She clasped her legs around his hips to help. Finally, he was all the way in.
He didn’t move for a few seconds, and she luxuriated in the sensation of having him inside her. Exactly what she wanted, exactly what she needed. Oh, it—no, he felt so good, so right, so incredibly wonderful, she could almost cry.
Magic energy began to swirl around them, the very air alive with sparks and stars. Her center hummed, and his answered with a thrum of its own.
She placed her hands on his hard chest, on each side of his breastbone, bracketing his magic center. Their hearts beat in unison, at a strong, steady, rapid pace. She could feel power swirling in his center. She knew it was growing in hers.
She looked a question at him—Should they? Should they attempt a bonding? On their first love-making?
He understood. “Your call.”
She whispered, “Yes.”
His “yes” came out in a guttural, grating sound. He shifted his weight onto his right arm and held his left hand above her breastbone.
Softly she said, “One, two, three.” At three they both placed their hands on the other’s center.
Hot, electrifying, vitalizing power blasted from him, flew through her hand into her body, collected in her center, flowed to their connection inside her, and back to him. The deluge seized her breath and arched her against him while energy surged from her into him. Through her hand on his chest, she actually felt the power reach his center, circle to create a whirlpool of energy, then return to her by the same path.
She lifted her free hand to his neck, but he was already lowering his head. They kissed, a connection that opened another pathway for the magical energy, which started to oscillate between them.
He began to move, a deliberate in-and-out that touched nerve endings she didn’t know she had, that built excitement slowly, relentlessly, until every muscle in her was straining, until power flooded every molecule of her being, until the stars and sparks surrounding them blinded her.
She raised her hips to meet him, and he increased the speed of his thrusts, duplicating them with his tongue in her mouth. In seconds, she didn’t know where she ended and he began.
The hum increased in volume, became a steady tone that dropped in pitch until, felt more than heard, it reverberated inside them.
All the while, the energy rushing between them increased in speed and intensity, drew them inexorably into a vortex of magic.
In the turmoil of the maelstrom, Johanna surrendered. Surrendered to the overwhelming of her senses, to the creation of mindless need and enormous want combined, to the bonding of soul mates, to the man. She possessed and was possessed. She gave all she had in her. She took everything she could from him.
All that existed in the universe in this moment were the two of them and their magical bond.
Then they shattered in a tempest of contractions, a simultaneous climax of impossible duration and power, and a transcendent bliss full of wonder—and love.
Saxt somehow slid to her side, turning her at the same time so they still faced each other, her top leg over his hip. He was still inside her, exactly where she wanted him to be, and she held him tightly, her lifeline back to the real world. They were both gasping for air and lay entwined for who-knew-how-long. When their breathing slowed, he kissed her, she kissed him, and they hugged.
She roused enough to ask, “Are you all right?”
“I don’t know,” he answered. “How about you?”
“I think I’m all here.”
He leaned back a little, touched her face. “Were you crying?”
“I didn’t realize. It was all so beautiful.”
“I thought at one point we were flying through space. I’ve never seen the lights, stars, fireworks, whatever that was, before.”
“Me, either.” Both of her hands still covered his center. She rubbed them over his chest and returned them to their original position. “I can still feel energy moving between us.”
“Yeah,” he agreed and spread his fingers to her breast while his palm remained on her center. “Especially here and …”
She tightened interior muscles. “And …?”
Saxt thought the top of his head was going to fly off when she clenched his rapidly re-engorging cock. He gasped out, “Oh, yeah, there.”
His mate must have some of the devil in her because she did it again—twice. A third time.
Two could play at her game. He shifted her top leg higher around his hips and gave her a little thrust in answer. “What are you doing to me, woman? I haven’t been this horny since I was a teenager. Hell, not even then.”
“Maybe it’s the imperative’s way of making up for lost time.” She kissed him, a light caress.
Her center began to vibrate, and his responded. He could hear a faint hum. The power flowing between them picked up speed, especially the stuff moving through his cock.
“Hold on,” he said, and keeping her tight against him, he rolled onto his back so that she straddled him.
They managed to maintain their connections, hands still on each other’s center and him inside her. She was so beautiful, rising above him, her blond hair going every which way, her breasts so rosy and pink, her blue eyes sparkling.
That she was his mate, that they’d found each other at all, after their losses, after all the years alone, was a miracle. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve her, but he vowed to keep her and make her happy. Thank you, soul-mate phenomenon.
Whether the cause was his thoughts or the sight of her smiling at him or the feel of her in his arms, he didn’t know. The results, however, were that he was growing still harder and larger. Another miracle—his recuperative ability had never been this good. Never!
She squirmed to accommodate him, slid up and down once.
He reciprocated with a thrust. Made a decision. Stop thinking. Take what the phenomenon gives. This time, go slow.
Lifting his free hand up to her neck, he tugged her down into a kiss.
Another claiming, possessive, I’m-yours-you’re-mine kiss. Hungry, demanding, enthralling. Magical.
Power surged again. He could see sparks and stars on the back of his eyelids and, when he slit his eyes open, see them floating in the air. When she began to move also, his go-slow idea evaporated, and rational thought disintegrated.
He could only focus on her, on the magic circling between and through them, on their bodies straining for release. Could only thrust, let her responding clasp excite him even further when he placed both thumbs together on her center and spread his fingers to fondle.
The magic flow, their sliding friction, the internal pressure, the hum and fireworks, all gathered in their centers, increased in a crescendo of force and intensity, and burst forth in a frenzy of simultaneous completion.
When the universe settled into place again, he pulled her down all the way to his chest. She straightened out her legs and, an arm to each side, lay on him like a blanket.
Right where he wanted her. Always. Forever. He loved her, he knew it, he felt it like he’d been hit with a lightning bolt, straight in the heart. He’d probably loved her since they stood across that first ring, since the first time their threads had entwined, since he’d seen her with the students, since she’d stood up to Phil, since she’d cooked him shrimp and pasta, since he’d known he had to protect this woman, no matter what.
He kissed her forehead, the only part of her he could reach with his lips and without having to move.
She said, “Hmmmm,” and kissed his neck in return.
Saxt didn’t know or care how long they lay there, she on top of him, he able and more than willing to run his hands up and down her smooth back and give her butt a little squeeze every third pass or so. He was in nirvana.
After a while, Johanna stirred and, braced on her elbows, raised her head to give him a small kiss.
“Are you all right?” he asked, brushing a lock of her hair behind her ear.
“I think so,” she answered. “That was quite a ride. It had to be another bonding.”
“A double bonding. I’ve never heard of two, one immediately after the other like that. I was inside you the entire time. I’m surprised we didn’t spontaneously combust. The only magic lacking was our swords.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, please, not swords in the middle of mating. We’d probably set fire to the place.”
With a laugh, they said it together. “What a way to go!”
“Right now, I couldn’t cast so much as flamma,” Saxt said. “How about some breakfast?”
“Sounds good to me. How about after a shower?” She levered herself up and off him.
“Great.” Saxt started to spread his legs to sit up, but he was tangled in something—the sheet, most likely. Then he looked down. “Oh, hell.”
“What?” Johanna asked before she saw his problem and started laughing.
“See what you do to me?” he exclaimed, waving a hand at his legs. “You make me so excited, I forget to take off my underwear.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
After a shower together that lasted a little longer than expected—without, thank goodness, more fireworks—they went downstairs. Claiming to be quite handy with breakfasts, Saxt insisted on his preparing omelets.
Johanna was dubious, but kept quiet. If he wanted to cook, wonderful. She showed him where the skillets and cooking implements were and busied herself making the coffee and toast.
With some amazement, she watched him chop onions, mushrooms, and green peppers like one of the chefs on TV. “Where did you learn how to cook?”
“After I worked my way through most of the grief, I concentrated on getting my life back into some order. One of my activities was cooking classes. It was partly to fill the time and partly to learn how to feed myself. Maddy had always done the cooking. After I sold the house, I couldn’t see myself moving back in with my parents, and I bought a condo. Because of the demands of my business, I ate lunch and dinner out a lot, and I wanted some home cooking. So, voilà!”
“Listen, you’ve reminded me,” Johanna said, reaching for the preserves in the refrigerator. “We still have a lot to talk about—really learning to know each other. Likes, dislikes, habits, all that stuff.”
Saxt didn’t say anything. When she turned around with
several jars in her hands, he was leaning against the countertop with a serious look on his face.
“Is there a problem with that?” she asked. Or was he going to tease her about already knowing the best parts of each other?
“The most important topic is … when are we going to get married?”
Well, that statement certainly cut to the chase, didn’t it? She blinked at him and blurted out the truth. “I hadn’t even thought about that.”
He laid down the whisk he was using on the eggs, dried his hands on a towel, took the jars out of her hands, and placed them on the counter. Then he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
All sorts of little sparks fired in her nervous system, her center hummed, and his answered.
“Marry me, Johanna,” he said in that low, deep voice she was coming to recognize he used when he was extremely serious—and aroused. “We’re mates, we belong together, and I’m yours. I love you. I’m yours, and you’re mine. Marry me.”
She leaned back in his arms and stared into his eyes. She knew in her heart he was telling the truth. He loved her. Did she love him? Decision time.
She thought of their spinning the ring and threads intertwining. She remembered how he’d been with the students, with the Swords and Defenders, and especially with Phil. She thought of his hands on her body, of his kiss, of him inside her. She remembered how determined he was to protect her and how he’d faced the fact they were both Swords. She remembered how he’d held her after she told him about Billy. She thought about how he’d told her about Maddy and Robby.
She couldn’t imagine the future without him. What she felt for her mate as a mature woman paled in comparison to what she’d felt as a teenager. She wanted him in every way possible.
She had the facts she needed. She had processed the information. She made the decision.
“I love you, too, Saxt. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Yes, I’ll marry you.”