Page 58 of Where It All Began
She’d wanted this, but she had no idea where it would take them. She was a prisoner of John’s pleasure, and it overwhelmed her.
He was riding her recklessly as if racing toward a finish that only he could see. The primal need for release built within her until she quivered around his shaft. It was too much. Phoebe feared her body would break apart into pieces, slivers of pleasure.
His shout, triumphant and desperate, echoed in her ears, and as he came, he reached between her legs, stroking her over the edge. She joined him, careening into the lightning and wind as her body shook with each wrenching wave.
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“What. The. Hell. Was. That?” John’s breathing was still ragged from the orgasm that had ripped him to pieces.
Phoebe laughed or coughed under him. He couldn’t tell with her face pressed into the pillow.
He hoped she wasn’t suffocating because he really didn’t have the energy to roll off of her at the moment. He was still inside her, still feeling the aftershocks of her own release around his half-hard cock.
“I just need a minute,” he murmured against the smooth skin of her back. “An hour tops.”
There was still no discernible response from Phoebe, and he worried that she might have already suffocated. With effort, he slid over onto his side and pulled Phoebe’s face out of the pillow.
“You still breathing?”
“Mmm.” Without opening her eyes, she rolled and snuggled into his chest, a smug smile on her pretty face.
A wave of feeling swamped him as he pressed his face to her damp hair.He’d been wrong, dead wrong.And that rarely happened. He was a planner, a weigh-er, a debater. His decisions were rational and well thought-out. Yet, with that approach, he would have missed out on the woman cradled against his chest.
They didn’t make sense together, but what they did make was a hell of a lot more addicting than logic.
John had known the satisfaction at the end of a hard day’s work. Felt the joy of time spent with loved ones, the pride in the harvest of a crop grown by his own two hands. He’d enjoyed the carnal delights that sex had to offer.
But nothing in his life prepared him for what he felt in bed with Phoebe. Every time he came, it was as if he emptied himself into her only to be refilled with… what was it? That strange glow. Well-being, satisfaction, peace? He couldn’t put a finger on it. But it was warm and bright and flooded him.
Fuck. Was this love?Is that what was glowing in his chest for Phoebe?
The twitch in his eye was back.
Why couldn’t he be more like Cardona? A sexual connoisseur with a passing enjoyment of the buffet of women. No, he had to fall in love with the woman he couldn’t keep for longer than a summer, a season.
Chapter Twenty-One
Phoebe unwrapped herself from the phone cord and hung up dancing a jig. John looked up blandly from his papers. “And how’s Elvira?” he asked.
Phoebe knew it was a perfunctory question as he’d heard every word of her end of the conversation. She danced over to him and leaned over his shoulder.
Reflexively, he covered his writing, and Phoebe gave him a little pinch.
“El had some news.”
“I gathered that from all the ‘no ways’ and ‘are you kidding mes’,” he said dryly.
“Well, then smarty pants. What’s the news?” Phoebe flopped down in the chair closest to his.
“Cardona asked out Hazel,” John guessed.
Phoebe felt herself deflate. “How did you know?”
“He told me he was going to.”
“And you didn’t tell me?” Phoebe slapped at his arm. “Honestly, John. Sometimes I thinkIwas the one who was supposed to be born in Blue Moon.”
He grinned at her and pulled her chair closer to him until he could reach her for a kiss.
