He brushed his lips over her thigh, and then his tongue along the vulnerable line beside her center. And his teeth, lightly, lightly, until her breath became long, sighing moans, until her body undulated.
He found her warm and wet, so ready to fly up again.
It was like being showered with warm liquid gold, showered with melted jewels. Every inch of her sparkled, shone, glimmered, gleamed. The world was warm and soft, and smothered in flowers, drenched in moonlight.
And the world was only him.
As his mouth came back to hers again, as her hands were free to touch and stroke, she thought nothing could ever be more beautiful.
“Will you look at me now? Look at me, Sasha.”
She opened eyes dark and heavy with the glorious weight of pleasure. “Bran.”
“This is ours, only.”
He banished even the thought of pain as he slipped into her. And she learned there was more beauty. She opened for it, welcomed it. Keeping her eyes on his, she moved with him, let that beauty, the glory of it saturate her.
It took her higher to where the air thinned, the world spun. As even the air shattered around her, she laid her hand on his cheek. “Yes,” she said. “Yes,” she sighed, and let herself slide down.
She imagined her body pulsing off light. Pale pink and gold light. Warm and soft and lovely. He lay full on her so she imagined the light pulsed right through him as well, and filled the room with color.
She wondered, if this is how sex made you feel, how people managed to do anything else.
“Well, we can be a bit preoccupied with it.”
“What? Did I say that out loud?”
“You did.” He raised his head, gave her face a study out of dark, sleepy eyes. “And it’s a fine compliment to me.”
“You gave me a bed of flowers and moonlight. I’m full of compliments.”
He shifted, rolled so he could draw her up against his side. “I want that painting.”
She laughed, happy to rest her head on his shoulder. “I don’t know how I looked.”
“I’ll see that you do. Is it bad timing to ask why you haven’t been with someone before this?”
“No. I felt I had to be honest about things before I slept with someone. And whenever things got to that point, the man was either put off or too interested in that part of me. It wasn’t about me anymore, about wanting me anymore. You already knew. And you have something . . . it balances things. That sounds calculated.”
“No, it sounds human.”
Now she shifted, propped up so she could see his face. “This?” She gestured to the flowers, the moonlight. “What you have, are? It’s fascinating. It’s compelling. But it’s not why I’m here with you now.”
“This?” He laid a hand on her temple. “What you have and are is fascinating and compelling. But it’s not why I want you here.”
Content, she settled down again. “We have so many things to deal with, to figure out. Gods and stars and caves and vanishing islands. Right now none of it seems real. But it is.”
“And we’ll do what needs doing. We’ll find the star that’s here for us. You’ve seen it.”
“Not everything comes through exactly as I see it.”
“We’ll trust this does, and more, keep looking until we find it.”
“You’ve had more time than I have to believe. I’m still working on it. I guess we should go down, start planning tomorrow’s search.”
“Be good soldiers,” he agreed and stroked a hand down her arm.
“Can I ask you a question first?”
“I think you could ask most anything under the circumstances.”
“Is it always like that? Sex? Well, it’s not—not from what I’ve read, or heard. But do you think it was amazing because it was the first time, or it might be amazing for us?”
“I couldn’t say, but I can be sure of one thing. We’re going to find out.”
When he rolled over onto her, she laughed. “I guess they can get started downstairs without us.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
The second time proved amazing—and as for the third, sex in the shower was an experience she definitely wanted to repeat. Often.
Sasha wondered if going without sex for her entire adult life had given her a voracious appetite for it. Regardless, she considered herself well and truly sated, and made her way down to the kitchen to attend to another appetite.
She was starving.
She grabbed an apple out of the bowl, poured a glass of wine before perusing the contents of the fridge.
Someone, she noted, had done some shopping. And since she’d contributed nothing there, unless anyone objected, she knew what to do with the lamb chops.