Burning Up

enough, she prayed. Let me be enough for him.
    They played together like otters or children, bobbing, laughing, splashing in the water. He chased her, shrieking, diving, until she let herself be caught. Breathless, she floated in his arms, twined around him like kelp. Her hands drifted over him, enjoying the textures of him, rough and smooth, under the water. In that moment she had everything she wanted, Jack and the sea. Inside she was melting, flowing, brimming with love.
    He trapped her hands; held them. “Come with me.”
    “Yes.”
    “Lie with me.”
    Oh, yes.
    They waded dripping from the water and lay side by side on the blanket, lacing their fingers together. Turning her head, she pressed her lips to his shoulder. His skin was cool and tasted of salt.
    “You are cold.”
    He shrugged. “The sun will dry me quickly enough.”
    She rolled to face him, smiling, draping her leg over his hip. “I can warm you.”
    “Better than the sun.” He turned on his side toward her, combing her damp hair from her face with his fingers. His brown eyes were steady on hers. “My light. My love.”
    He covered her mouth with his. Soft and quiet, wooing her. Her heart lurched and then raced. He touched her gently and with purpose until she trembled in his arms.
    He smiled. “Cold?”
    “No.”
    Her skin flushed as he continued to touch her, to taste, trailing his fingers from throat to breast, from hip to thigh and everywhere in between. His hands left fires in their wake, a bone-deep glow, flash points of pleasure.
    “ Jack. ”
    He gathered her close, body to body, skin to skin, heat to heat. Their mouths met and explored before he grasped her hips and nudged forward. She gasped, her fingers biting into his shoulders. He thrust.
    Ah. She shuddered, her teeth biting down on her lower lip. “Again.”
    He paused. “Are you asking me or telling me?”
    She wriggled. “Which will get you to do what I want?”
    “Either,” he admitted frankly. His neck arched, the cords straining as she touched him. “Oh, God, Morwenna.”
    She melted against him. “Please. Do it. Now.”
    He surged.
    She cried out in passion, in possession, in joy. He was in her, part of her, as she clenched around him and made him hers, as he thrust inside her and made her his, all their boundaries blurring, all their divisions melting away. They moved together, flowed together, fused together by sweat and heat and need.
    One.
    Tenderness cracked her heart.
    “You are the first,” she told him.
    He focused on her face, his pupils wide and wild. “What?”
    She touched his cheek. “My first love.”
    Her last.
    Her only.
    “Good,” he said with masculine satisfaction and sank into her again.
    The ripples began inside her. He held himself deep and still as she shuddered, as she shattered, feeling him everywhere inside her, surging inside her, in her blood and in her loins and in her heart. She wrapped her arms around him to hold him closer, wrapped her legs around him to bring him deeper, felt him push into her, pound into her, until he plunged with her into the heart of the whirlpool and they both were swept away.
    They floated, drifting in each other’s arms. The sun was warm on her naked hip, golden behind her eyelids.
    He raised his head and kissed her so sweetly she shivered again in longing and delight.
    “I am a plain man with ordinary needs. I want to give you my life and my love. To share a home and children with you. Marry me, Morwenna.”
    She felt the prick of real tears, hard, human tears in her eyes. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Are you asking me or telling me?”
    But his emotions ran too deep for teasing. His gaze was straight and serious. “Which will get you to do what I want?”
    “Either,” she answered honestly. “I love you.”
    His hands tightened. His eyes blazed. “Yes?” he demanded. “Say yes.”
    “Yes!”
    Neither spoke again for a long while.

SIX
    T he sun slid toward the sea. Pink and purple clouds fled across the sky, herded like sheep by the wind. The tide rolled in, long, flat breakers edged with dirty lace.
    Morwenna sat in the prow as Jack rowed the heavy wooden boat back to the mainland.
    She loved.
    And was loved.
    The knowledge was a warm glow in her chest, radiating outward to her fingers and toes like the rays of the afternoon sun.
    Jack hauled on the oars, his lean brown face open and relaxed despite the restive sea. She had done that for him, she thought smugly. She had erased