He’d seen that growing up. He’d seen it with his parents.
She would stay. His Rachel would stay.
He felt the need, the intense, unendurable need, to brand her and solidify that bond. Vows. Legal documents. He needed that marriage now. Needed to strengthen his hold.
Because she couldn’t leave him. He couldn’t lose her.
“Show me how much you love me,” he said, his voice a growl he didn’t recognize. The feelings in him utterly foreign, something that was also beyond his recognition.
“How?” she asked.
“Show me,” he repeated, feeling desperate.
She pushed his shirt from his shoulders and kissed his neck, his chest, her fingers working at his belt, and the closure of his pants. Soon she had him naked, soft hands skimming over his body.
He just wanted to drown in it all. In her touch. In the moment. To never have this moment pass so that he could live in it forever.
But it was already passing, changing. And he couldn’t regret it because of where it put her hands. The way that she cupped him. Squeezed him. Teased him. Her hands sure on his body, her lips soft, her tongue hot and slick.
She moved away from him and a kick of fire burst through him. Her not touching him was going to drive him insane, but he had to let her stop, because he had to see what she would do next.
He was powerless to do anything but watch her.
She took the lacy nightie off, exposed her body to him slowly. And in her eyes he saw her emotions. She wasn’t pausing to make jokes. Wasn’t interrupting the moment, the tension, with a comment.
It was the first time she’d simply met his eyes and taken her clothes off.
He was glad she wasn’t talking because he was sure he couldn’t have spoken if he’d wanted to.
She returned to him, full breasts pressed against his chest. He pushed his thigh between her legs, felt her wetness on his skin. Her desire for him.
He put his hand on her lower back and rocked against her. Her head fell back, lush lips parted, a sweet sound of pleasure escaping her mouth.
He cupped her chin, held her steady, bending to kiss her as he continued to move, continued to pleasure her.
He would give her this. Not love. But this. And she loved him, so it would be enough. Because she’d said he made her feel good. And that the sex mattered.
He would show her just how good he could make her feel. Just how much sex mattered. He would give her everything that he had to give. Everything.
He slipped his thigh from between her legs and walked her backward to the bed, pushing her down so that her butt was resting on the mattress and her legs were over the side. “I need you,” he said, the words painful to force out. “You don’t know how much.”
He hooked her legs over his hips and thrust into her. Her back bowed off of the bed, her round breasts thrust into prominence. He took one nipple in his mouth and sucked it in deep, until she moaned. Until he felt her internal muscles tighten around his cock.
She grabbed his shoulders, her fingernails digging into his back as he thrust into her, hard and uncontrolled. He didn’t have it in him to be measured. Wasn’t able to take his time.