Her eyes went wide, and her breath caught in her throat when he probed deeper.
He stopped and looked down at her, his eyes worried.
“Okay?”
She nodded, too wired and senseless to form a coherent response. Her nails dug into his shoulders as she silently urged him on.
Finally he moved. In one hard thrust, he went deep. Her mouth opened in a silent exclamation. Her vision blurred. She shivered uncontrollably and held onto him for dear life. She wasn’t going to last. It was too much. It had been too long.
“Please,” she begged.
She arched, she twisted, she writhed. He cupped her to him and began thrusting hard and fast. Oh God, yes. Finally.
He had been tender. He wanted to be tender, but right now she needed him to be strong. Hard. Fierce. To remind her of all she’d missed.
Her protector. Her warrior.
She threw back her head, squeezed her eyes shut and gripped his shoulders so tight she was sure she’d leave marks.
The friction was so wonderfully torturous that it was almost too much to bear. He was swollen and hard. So hard. He filled her again and again, his body driving relentlessly into her.
Tension built. They both gasped and squeezed.
“Come with me,” Ethan whispered. “Be with me. Love me.”
The gentle words were a balm to her soul. She closed her eyes, gathered him close and simply let go.
His hips powered against hers. He tensed against her and gripped her as hard as she held him. Their bodies were meshed so tightly that there wasn’t a centimeter between them. Their limbs were entwined as their hips undulated in frantic rhythm.
He buried his face in her neck and whispered her name. “Rachel.”
She flew. It was the only word to describe it. She soared. Euphoric, so light. She could almost feel the rush of the wind in her face. She lifted her face to the sun and felt the warmth on her skin after so long in the dark.
And then she floated down, and Ethan was there to catch her. She drifted lazily, finding home in his arms. Home. Finally home.
His lips found hers. He kissed her long and sweet. Hot tears slipped down her cheeks, mingled on their tongues.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
She kissed him again, too overcome to say anything. She wasn’t sure she had words for what she was feeling. So she said nothing and nodded.
“I love you, baby. Never doubt that.”
She touched his face, stroking his firm jaw. “I won’t.”
Carefully, he withdrew from her body and rolled to the side. He gathered her close, so close she could feel every beat of his heart.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He stiffened slightly in surprise. His eyes were puzzled when he looked at her. “For what?”
“For making me feel love again.”
He leaned his forehead against hers and drew his fingers through the strands of her hair.
“You’ll never know anything else again,” he vowed.
CHAPTER 25
THE dream was dark and ugly. It hit her on a deep emotional level that frightened her. Ethan was there, but he wasn’t her comforter or the warrior she’d imagined for so long. He was furious with her.
The desperation that gripped her was born of the knowledge that whatever they were once to each other, it was long gone, buried under broken trust.
She faced him, frightened, knowing this was it. The end of their marriage, of their love. She wasn’t strong enough to face him, but he gave her no choice. He wanted her to know. Why was he so adamant?
The eyes she so loved were not filled with warmth and support. They were hard and resolved.
“No,” she whispered. She didn’t want to see him this way. It was just a dream. A nightmare. It wasn’t real. Was it?
You’re a fraud. Your marriage is a fraud. He doesn’t love you.
The voice whispered into the most vulnerable part of her soul. It twisted and turned through the paths, spreading despair in its wake.
“No. No!”
“Rachel. Rachel, wake up, baby. It’s just a dream. Come back to me.”
Gentle hands caressed her face, wiping away the tears on her cheeks. Her eyes fluttered open and she blinked to adjust to the darkness.
“Hey,” Ethan said softly. “It’s okay. You’re safe, Rachel.”
He gathered her in his arms and hugged her to his chest. Her heart drummed relentlessly against his chest, and she struggled against the panic still on the fringes of her consciousness.
Why was she having this dream? It was growing stronger, not weaker. Shouldn’t her panic be going away the more time elapsed after her captivity? And why was she dreaming about Ethan this way?
A therapist would probably feed her a line about her unconscious fears rearing their ugly head when she was most vulnerable.
She snuggled closer to Ethan, holding on as tight as she could, as if by sheer will she could point and say, See? He doesn’t hate me. He’s here. He loves me.
He kissed the top of her head and stroked over her chilled skin. She wore nothing after their lovemaking, and his hands should have felt like magic on her flesh. Instead she tensed, dread filling her.
Maybe she really was crazy.
“Baby, talk to me,” Ethan murmured. “What’s got you so scared? Can you tell me about the dream?”
She closed her eyes again. What could she say? Gee, Ethan, I dreamed you were a real bastard and that you hated me. That would certainly make him feel good.
But she had to tell someone.
The idea of going to the therapist Ethan had gotten information on scared her. It made her feel out of control and helpless. But maybe it was time. Maybe she couldn’t do this alone.