Part 18 (2/2)

”Oh, Liv. Liv. My heart. My love. Please don't cry. Please don't cry. It will be all right.”

She wept a little, quietly, for a time. And at last heaved a sigh.

And then he simply held her.

It was as perfect a moment as he'd ever known. It seemed an astonis.h.i.+ng privilege to be the person who could comfort her.

He'd never known there was much pleasure in simply quietly breathing with another human being.

”I missed you so,” she whispered.

His heart broke, then regrew three times bigger.

The soft press of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s against his body, the rise and fall of her breath beneath his hands. The sheer glory of having her in his arms was well nigh unbearable. It was like the sun had taken up residence in his chest.

And he held her and murmured things, and his hands moved soothingly over her back.

And without thinking, he brushed a kiss over the top of her head.

He felt her breathing stop.

And then her back moved again in a great exhale, and she slowly tipped her head back and looked up at him.

”Liv?” he whispered.

A warning.

The only one he was going to give her.

But she rose up on her toes to meet his lips as they lowered.

He brushed his lips across hers so softly, and even that much was playing roulette with his control. A heaven of petal-softness and give, her mouth.

He tightened his arms around her. His limbs were suddenly awkward, thrumming as he unleashed, just a little, what felt like a lifetime's worth of desire.

His lips sank against hers more determinedly, this time claiming. He parted them with a little nip of a kiss.

She made a little sound. A sort of gasp that was both surprised and wholly carnal.

It went to his head like bolted whisky, that sound.

He kissed her again, and this time he touched his tongue to hers, then twined his with it softly, exploring, teasing, arousing. Her head tipped back into his hands, to allow him to take the kiss deeper, and, oh G.o.d, she kissed him back as if she'd been born knowing how.

He took his lips from hers briefly to breathe.

”Did I do that correctly?” she whispered.

”G.o.d, yes,” he rasped.

”Can we do it a-”

He took her mouth before she could say ”again.” Fiercely now. She met him with full hunger. Desire was a thing with claws and it spurred him on. His hands wandered her shoulder blades beneath her muslin, the warm satin of her skin just a fine, fragile layer of fabric away from his hungry hands, and he wanted to tear it away like a savage and bury himself in her.

She wrapped her hands around his head and pulled him close. Her mouth was honeyed sweetness and he was dizzier, drunker with each kiss, pulled deeper and deeper into a maelstrom of need.

He backed her up against the elm tree. And now they were nearly climbing each other, the kisses swift, rough, plundering.

They paused between each kiss to breathe raggedly against each other's lips. He heard his own breath like a distant storm in his ears.

Her hands slid down to his waist and she pulled herself tightly against him, and his c.o.c.k was so hard her slightest movement sent an agony of pleasure through him. He hissed a breath in through his teeth.

”Liv.” He b.u.mped his lips softly against hers.

Her eyelids were heavy, and her breath came hot and swift between her parted lips. She moved against him, seeking her own pleasure, not quite knowing how to find it.

He knew if he hiked her skirt he would find her wet and hot, and he could slide his fingers between her legs, and he could make these woods echo with his name as she screamed it.

He was losing his mind.

She arched against him.

”Liv . . . I . . .” His voice was a shredded rasp. ”You mustn't . . .”

Her head went back and her eyes were closed, and he could see her pulse in her throat, and her breath came swift and hot through her parted lips as she pulled him harder against her body, her hands sliding down to his hips.

”Oh G.o.d. Oh G.o.d.”

His voice was in shreds. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and bit his lip hard as his release tore through him. Wave after wracking wave of unimaginable pleasure. He soared out of his body, somewhere over the Suss.e.x downs.

The shame and glory of it.

Despair and euphoria each had one end of him and were tearing him in two.

He hadn't come in his trousers since he was thirteen years old.

And yet he'd never felt so frightened, and somehow infinite and powerful.

What in G.o.d's name was he going to do?

They breathed for a time.

”You're shaking,” she whispered.

He rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. He couldn't yet speak. Their breath mingled, hot and swift, then spiraled whitely in the cold air.

He finally opened his eyes. Hers were blue, still kiss-hazy, worried.

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