Mind Over Matter

through him, sweet as a dream.
    “David?” She said his name again, but this time her eyes were dark and dazed.
    “Ssh.” His hands didn’t drag through her hair now with trembles of passion, but stroked, exploring the texture. He could watch the light strike individual strands. “Lovely.” He brought his gaze back to hers. “Have I ever told you how lovely you are?”
    She started to reach for him, for the passion that she could understand. “It isn’t necessary.”
    His lips met hers again, but they didn’t devour and demand. This mood was foreign and made her heart pound as much with uncertainty as need. “Make love with me,” she murmured as she tried to draw him down.
    “I am.” His mouth lingered over hers. “Maybe for the first time.”
    “I don’t understand,” she began, but he shifted so that he could cradle her in his arms.
    “Neither do I.”
    So he began, slowly, gently, testing them both. Her mouth offered darker promises, but he waited, coaxing. His lips were patient as they moved over hers, light and soothing as they kissed her eyes closed. He didn’t touch her, not yet, though he wondered what it would be like to stroke her while the light was softening, to caress as though it were all new, all fresh. Gradually he felt the tension in her body give way, he felt what he’d never felt from her before. Pliancy, surrender, warmth.
    Her body seemed weightless, gloriously light and free. She felt the pleasure move through her, but sweetly, fluidly, like wine. Then he was the wine, heady and potent, drugging her with the intoxicating taste of his mouth. The hands that had clutched him in demand went lax. There was so much to absorb—the flavor of his lips as they lingered on hers; the texture of his skin as his cheek brushed hers; the scent that clung to him, part man, part woods; the dark, curious look in his eyes as he watched her.
    She looked as she had when she’d slept, he thought. Fragile, so arousingly fragile. And she felt… At last he touched, fingertips only, along skin already warm. He heard her sigh his name in a way she’d never said it before. Keeping her cradled in his arms, he began to take her deeper, take himself deeper, with tenderness.
    She had no strength to demand, no will to take control. For the first time her body was totally his, just as for the first time her emotions were. He touched, and she yielded. He tasted, and she gave. When he shifted her, she felt as though she could float. Perhaps she was. Clouds of pleasure, mists of soft, soft delight. When he began to undress her, she opened her eyes, needing to see him again.
    The light had gone to rose with sunset. It made her skin glow as he slowly drew off her shirt. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, couldn’t stop his hands from touching, though he had no desire to be quick. When she reached up, he helped her pull off his own shirt, then took her injured hand to his lips. He kissed her fingers, then her palm, then her wrist, until he felt her begin to tremble. Bending, he brushed her lips with his again, wanting to hear her sigh his name. Then, watching her, waiting until she looked at him, he continued to undress her.
    Slowly. Achingly slowly, he drew the jeans down her legs,pausing now and then to taste newly exposed skin. Pulses beat at the back of her knees. He felt them, lingered there, exploited them. Her ankles were slim, fragile like her wrists. He traced them with his tongue until she moaned. Then he waited, letting her settle again as he stripped off his own jeans. He came to her, flesh against flesh.
    Nothing had been like this. Nothing could be like this. The thoughts whirled in her brain as he began another deliciously slow assault. Her body was to be enjoyed and pleasured, not worshiped. But he did so now, and enticed her to do the same with his.
    So strong. She’d known his strength before, but this was different. His fingers didn’t grip; his hands didn’t press. They skimmed, they traced, they weakened. So intense. They’d shared intensity before, but never so quietly.
    She heard him say her name. Aurora. It was like a dream, one she’d never dared to have. He murmured promises in her ear and she believed them. Whatever tomorrow might bring, she believed them now. She could smell the flowers strewn over the bed and taste the excitement that built in a way it had never done before.
    He slipped into her as though their bodies had never been apart. The rhythm was easy, patient,