Page 47 of Silverstorm

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered.

She gave him one of her winning smiles in return. The one where her nose wrinkled up, and he thought a balloon was expanding in his chest. She was so beautiful. The perfect woman for him. Drawing her hand up to his mouth, he kissed each of her fingertips, then took his time, tracing the delicate veins that lined the back of her hand, up the inside of her arm until she twitched and giggled at his touch.

He pulled her in close and caught the hint of roses as he buried his face in her hair. Then his lips trailed down the soft skin of her neck, and his blood pounded in his veins at the feel of her beneath his fingertips. He wanted her, wanted to make love to her, here and now.

Suddenly, she moved to stand before him, looking down with her dark, sultry gaze. With one practiced move, she removed her jeans and underwear, and now she was naked. A growl came from somewhere deep inside at the sight of her.

He began to unbuckle his trousers, but she pushed him back onto the couch. “Let me do it,” she commanded. She tugged at his trousers and jocks until they were a puddle of material on the floor, and she was once more standing in front of him. It was too much, all that pale skin and lush curves, and he had to reach up and touch. To run his fingers gently over the curve of her hip, lay his palm over the flat planes of her stomach, then lower to cover her sex. She gasped as his fingers slid in between her legs and launched herself at him, so that she straddled him where he sat on the couch, her knees on either side of his thighs. Hovering above his lap, she looked down into his face.

“Wait,” he managed to croak from between gritted teeth. “Is this okay? I mean…” he said, wanting to make sure that whatever they were about to do wasn’t going to harm the baby in any way. Because this wasn’t going to be slow and easy. This was going to be fast and fiery, and he didn’t want to hurt her.

“Of course it is. The doctor said it’s fine. I believe his exact words were, you can have as much vigorous sex as you like.” Aria rolled her eyes and grimaced. “How to make a patient feel uncomfortable,” she added, which would’ve made Jude laugh if he hadn’t been thinking about how good it would feel to be inside Aria. She’d finally gone to see a doctor about her pregnancy—which was progressing normally—and he’d set up an antenatal plan for her and scheduled regular visits to keep a check on her. But all he cared about right now were the words vigorous sex.

She reached down and put a hand over his heart. He could feel his own heartbeat inside his chest, strong and fast beneath her palm. “I want this as much as you do,” she said huskily. The feeling as she grazed her teeth over the muscle of his shoulder made him just about lose his mind. If Aria said the baby would be fine, then he believed her.

But then another thought entered his head. “Condom,” he moaned. “I don’t have—”

“We don’t need one,” she whispered. “The doctor gave me a clean bill of health, and, well…I can’t get any more pregnant at the moment.”

His hands cupped her bottom as she lifted up on her knees and then settled over him, easing him inside her. Slow at first, so slow it stole his breath.

He couldn’t help it, he began to thrust harder, and she moved with him, kissing him in a hungry tangle of tongues.

This. He’d never had this before with any other woman. This purely visceral response she drew from him every single time.

Waves of pleasure began to roll over him, his muscles spasming with growing force until he knew he could no longer hold it in.

“Aria,” he cried out, suddenly scared he was going too fast, too hard, that he’d reached the crescendo without her.

“Jude,” she answered with a moan, head thrown back in ecstasy, long neck exposed. Then she met his gaze, her eyes so dark they were liquid pools of desire, and he crashed over the edge as she followed him down.

It took him seconds, minutes, hours before he came back to himself, his breath still hitching in his throat. She was still straddling his lap, and he held her tight against him, never wanting to let her go, joined together in this blissful contentment forever. She rested her forehead in the crook of his neck, breasts pressed into his chest, her hands grasping his shoulders.

When at last he could control his breathing, he whispered in her ear, “I want to spend the rest of my life right here.”

“I think that’s a marvelous idea,” she murmured back. “Because I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” She drew backward a little so she could look him in the eye. “I love you.”

His heart squeezed with painful intensity. Those words were from his deepest, darkest dreams. Words he’d been waiting to hear. She’d hinted them back on the day of the ice storm, but they’d both skirted around the emotion ever since. But he knew what he felt. Had known it for what felt like forever.

He’d been holding his own words of love back until she was ready to hear them. And now, it seemed, she finally was.

“I love you, too,” he told her, holding her beautiful brown gaze tight within his own. “I want to marry you one day. We fit together perfectly, like we were always meant to be. Every time I look at you, I feel joy. I want this joy to last forever. And when Bunny is born, you and me and the baby will be our own special family.” His heart felt like it was fit to burst as he stared up at her.

“I can’t believe I was lucky enough to find you,” she said, not taking her gaze from his face.

“Me, either,” he agreed.

She lifted herself off him and he covered them with a throw rug as they lay together on the couch, snuggling easily together.

“And I can’t believe how far we’ve come in such a short time,” she said, her head resting lightly on his chest.

“Perhaps not such a short time,” he mused. “If you count our high school days, we’ve known each other for over fifteen years.”

She lifted her chin and considered him from below lowered lashes for a few moments. “I never told anyone this, but I had the biggest crush on you back in high school.”

“See, that proves my point,” he exclaimed triumphantly. “We were fated to be together right from the start.”

“Maybe,” she consented. Then a small grin stole over her lips. “I was so in love with you back then, I even wrote a poem to you on the back of the girls’ toilet door. An ode to Jude Wilder.”

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