Alex never called, and at ten o’clock Amy kissed my cheek and got herself settled in the guest room. I went upstairs to my room—and there he was, sitting on the edge of my bed.
I don’t know how, but I managed to shut and lock the door behind me before I fell, sobbing, into his arms. “You’re going to be okay,” Alex whispered. “I hate that you’re hurting, but you’re strong, El. Never forget how strong you are.”
There was an unfamiliar edge to his voice, and he spoke straight to my soul when he said, “I’ve seen your heart, and you will survive this. And I’ll tell you something else, too. I love you, Elsa Holmes.” His voice burned with emotion. “That’s why I call you El,” he added, his thumb and forefinger making the sign for the letter L. “Because it’s the first letter in love.”
Pure joy battled the loss and pain inside me as he cupped my cheek, his eyes locked on mine. “Promise me you won’t ever forget that.”
“Alex… ” I could barely say his name though my tears.
“Promise me.” The words were harsh. Demanding.
“I promise.”
He closed his eyes, then took a deep breath. And when he opened them again, I gasped at the wild intensity I saw. The blatant hunger. “Tonight, Ellie. Damn me all to hell, but I’ve got to have you tonight.”
“Yes,” I said, though I wanted to cry with relief. “Yes,” I repeated, only to have the word lost in the soft brush of his lips, that innocent, tender touch exploding into something much more passionate. Something raw.
Something wonderful.
He flipped me onto my back and straddled me, his mouth hard on mine as I clenched at his hips and pulled him down, craving a deeper connection. Needing skin on skin. I wanted everything I’d been fantasizing about, and I wanted it right then. But at the same time, I wanted this to go slow. To last forever. I wanted no one but Alex, and nothing except being in his arms.
“Ellie,” he whispered, then trailed kisses down my neck and lower still. I wasn’t wearing a bra, and his mouth closed over my breast through my T-shirt. I arched up, so startled by the intensity of the sensation that I had to bite the soft spot at the base of my thumb in order to keep from crying out. Amy was all the way on the other side of the house and a floor below us, but considering the magnitude of what I was feeling, if I let go, I was certain that my cries of pleasure would shake every wall in the place.
He moved lower then, his tongue teasing the thin strip of bare skin between my shirt and my PJ bottoms, making me writhe beneath him. I felt the brush of his fingers as he unfastened the string, then watched as he lifted his head to meet my eyes while he gently eased my pants down, along with my panties. A shiver ran through me—not fear, but anticipation and wild nerves.
“Okay?”
I nodded, then closed my eyes as he kissed my belly button, then moved slowly lower. His hands were cupped at my sides, his thumbs barely touching the swell of my breasts. The only truly intimate contact was his mouth. Such a small bit of skin to generate such incredible sensations.
He moved with wicked slowness. He probably wanted to make sure I was ready, but I was flying from the heat of him, from the wildness and need he was setting loose inside me. Even with all the times I’d made my own body explode, I’d never experienced this growing anticipation or the pure erotic pleasure of being tended and led down a sensual path toward an avalanche of pleasure.
It almost became too much. I whimpered, then shifted my hips as his lips pressed against my mound. He slid his hands lower, then gripped my waist, holding me firmly in place. Only once did he take his mouth from my skin, and that was when he spoke to me. My eyes were closed, my back arched as my body strained for more. “You should touch yourself,” he said. “Your breasts. Your nipples.”
“Why?”
“You’ll like it,” he said. “I will, too.”
I swallowed, the thought that he’d watch as I did something so intimate making me more than a little nervous. Ironic, considering how intimately he was touching me. But I did as he asked, barely grazing my fingertip over my very tight nipple. And oh my God, the sparks that set off. I closed my eyes again, forgetting to be nervous, letting my hands tease my breasts as his mouth explored below, his tongue flicking over me in ways that had me biting my lower lip to prevent me moaning so much that he’d worry about me and stop.
And then—oh God, and then—my whole body tightened and exploded with way, way, way more intensity than I’d ever managed on my own, because on my own, I’d always stopped. But Alex was relentless, teasing and sucking until I didn’t care about embarrassing myself, and I writhed and moaned and screamed until he finally slid up my body, put his hand on my mouth, and reminded me that the walls were thin.
He’d held me then, taking over the job of playing with my breasts, then helping me out of my bunched-up T-shirt so that I was naked and he was still fully dressed.
I bit my lower lip and asked, “Do you want…?” I held my breath, waiting for him to answer. I was warm and sated, but I still wanted more. I wanted him.
“Desperately,” he said. “I want everything with you, El. I want a night that neither of us will ever forget. I want to bury myself inside you and feel it as you shatter around me.” He kissed me gently. “Is that okay?”
I nodded, mute, and he kissed me again before sitting up and reaching for his back pocket. He pulled out his wallet and took out a condom, and I felt like an idiot, then, because I was so worked up it hadn’t even occurred to me.
“You’ve done this before,” I said, a bit accusatorially, but that was only to hide my embarrassment.
“No,” he said as he peeled off his jeans and shirt.
I rolled my eyes. “I’m not naive, you know.”
His smile was both teasing and sweet. “Sex, yes. But never with someone I love.”
“Oh.”
“I do love you, El, and it’s destroying my reason.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“We shouldn’t do this. Not tonight. Not when I—Not after—But dammit, I want you too much. I can’t stand the thought that I might—”
“What?”
“Lose you?”
He made the words a question, and I nodded in understanding. Peter was the first person he’d lost. And I understood grief better than anyone. “You won’t lose me, Alex,” I promised. “How can you if we love each other?”
I thought I saw tears in his eyes, but then he kissed me, and once again I was lost as he swept me away, out to sea on a tide of passion. He moved slowly, every touch bringing me that much closer to begging until, finally, I did exactly that and showered him with pleas.
He didn’t ask if I was sure—he knew that I was—but he met my eyes, and when he grinned, he was more than my new lover, he was my best friend. And I knew right then that no matter what, the night was going to be perfect.
He buried himself inside me, moving slowly, taking care to hurt me as little as possible, until I was actually whimpering with need. And when he exploded, I opened my eyes and watched the release play out over his face and body, amazed that I had the power to take him there—and then amazed again a few minutes later when he once more sent me off on the same journey until we were both utterly spent and limp as rags.