Carolina Moon

teeth, the flick of tongue whipping hot points of pleasure into her. Her back arched, willful invitation, and her hips began to rock.
    Little cries and whimpers, she couldn’t bite them back. Her arms trembled from the strain even as her body gloried in it. Something frantic was clawing inside her, fighting to break free.
    A hard, fast orgasm shocked her eyes wide, left her stunned and embarrassed. Then he was pulling her against him, wrapping her close.
    “Let go.”
    He rolled her back on the bed, tugging off his shirt. Her eyes were blurred now, her breath as ragged as his. This time when she reached for him, he slid into her arms.
    His mouth was urgent, his hands impatient as they molded and pressed and stroked. She dragged at his trousers, desperate now that nerves had been swallowed by needs. He stripped them aside, then sent her flying when he yanked up her hips and used his mouth on her.
    Her hands locked around the rungs of the bed, as he’d once imagined. Her head whipped to the side as sensations, dark delights, swamped her. His taste, his scent flooded her senses, swelled them until there was nothing else. Her breath sobbed out an instant before her long, mindless cry of release.
    Even as her hands went limp, he locked his around them. His heart was pounding, a rage of blood. The last lights of day, and the dying breeze of evening brushed over her face. Her hair was a wild mass over the pillows, her cheeks flushed.
    He would remember this, always. And so, he promised himself, would she.
    “Open your eyes. Tory, look at me.” When her lids fluttered up, he clung to the last link of control, bent his head, kissed her, long, deep. “Say my name.”
    The pressure had built again, the terrible, glorious heat of it. “Cade.”
    “Say it again.”
    Her fingers flexed under his. She wanted to weep. Or scream. “Cade.”
    “Again.” And plunged into her.
    Her mind went brilliant. She moved with him, matching each slow, smooth stroke. Absorbing him, feeding on each individual sensation until they became one glorious feast.
    Cade, hot and hard, inside her, the weight of him solid, strong. The spread soft and smooth on her back, the iron slick against her hands. And the last rays of light, going gray with dusk.
    When the rhythm quickened, she was ready, she was eager, and enraptured by the way his eyes, the stunning blue of them, remained fixed on hers.
    “Stay with me.” He was lost in her now. Drowning in her now. His heart beat brutally against hers as he buried his face in her hair.
    With their hands still gripped, they let go.
    She’d never been taken over so completely. Not by anyone. Not even the man she’d loved. Tory imagined she should be worried about it, but at the moment she couldn’t work up the energy for concerns and calculations.
    She lay under him while the air in the room softened in the twilight. For the first time in much, much too long to remember, she felt completely relaxed, body and mind.
    She had a hand tangled in his hair. It seemed all right to leave it there.
    When he turned his head, and his lips brushed the side of her breast, she smiled at the lazy pleasure of it.
    “I guess we celebrated after all,” she murmured, and wondered if it would be terribly rude to slide into sleep, just like this.
    “We’ll be sure to find a lot more to celebrate from now on. I’ve been wanting to get you here since I helped you cart this bed in.”
    “I know.” Her eyes were nearly closed, but she felt him move his head again, felt him look at her. “You weren’t all that subtle about it.”
    “A lot more subtle than I wanted to be.” He thought of how he’d imagined gilding their first time with music, and candlelight.
    “We did fine without them,” she said sleepily.
    “Without what?”
    “Without the music and …” Her eyes flew open, filled with horror, and met his considering ones. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” She tried to push up, push away, but the weight of him held her in place.
    “What are you sorry for?”
    “I didn’t mean to.” She pressed her hands into the bed, gripped the spread, and was already beginning to shake. “It won’t happen again. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
    “Read my mind?” He shifted so that he could brace on his elbows and frame her face in his hands. “Stop it.”
    “I will. I’m terribly sorry.”
    “No, damn it, Tory. Stop pulling in. Stop anticipating my reactions. And goddamn it, stop wondering if and when I’m