Page 68 of Margins of Love
His words woke her up. It was only a split second but the most important one in their lives.
“Gam ani. Ani le dodi ve dodi le.”Me too. I am yours and you are mine. Her voice became clearer with every word.
His eyes shot to hers, glistening with raw emotion. He let her finish and then caught her with his mouth. Their kiss, this first kiss as husband and wife. They had just married each other with a sacred vow that was over seven thousand years old and were now doing so with an essential act. One they could only share between husband and wife.
* * *
He came in,pushing and stretching her. She was wet for him and open. Fave slid deeper and deeper. He felt her constriction and virginity. He came to a halt. It was his to take. Relishing the pressure of her tightness. He felt a wall, a stop.
“I love you, too.” Her tears still drew wet lines on her cheeks, but she gave him a tepid smile. “With all my heart and soul, and forever,” she added and granted him access.
It was Fave’s undoing and he looked down, eager to dive deeper into her. “This could hurt, I never want to hurt you.”
“You cannot hurt me as long as you are with me. Forever.” She smiled.
When did she regain her composure? This woman was strong, a riddle, despite the secret between them that had evaporated just moments before.
She put her hands on his behind, wriggled underneath him, and pushed him further. He readjusted and changed the angle. Then he plunged into her, bursting through her hymen. He looked at her and she bit her lips. He came down for a kiss to soothe her. Within a moment, their hips found a tantric harmony that made his head feel light and his middle strong. They were each other’s. Finally, they were one. Tears melted into sweat. It was glorious.
CHAPTER44
Rachel ran her hands through his golden sunkissed hair. She could not get enough of him. “Why didn’t you tell me—”
“I didn’t know until I saw you at St. James’s Square.”
“Themikveh…”
“For your wedding tomorrow.” His mood was invincible. “Too late now,” his up-to-no-good smile was contagious. Rachel laughed and tilted her head backward, liberated and elated. Then she saw it and the smile froze into a look of horror.
She had not noticed the large painting of a mountain lake before. It hung over the bed.
“What happened?” Fave asked.
Rachel could not take her eyes off the painting.
“I don’t swim,” she said.
“I know.”
“I…” She could not form the words.
Fave sat up and when she saw his hot chest glistening with the sweat of their lovemaking, it all came back again.
“It was so cold, so very cold. Locals had surrounded us, landlocked us into the lake. Mama was holding Maya.” She saw that he absorbed her every word with a quizzical frown.
“We lived in Lausanne.”
“Switzerland?” He asked. “But you are so… so—”
“British?” She smiled. With him, she would be all right. And she found the strength to tell him everything. From the night in the lake to the year of traveling, raking in debts, drilling her accent, to their arrival in London. Fave listened. His chest bulged with air when she spoke of the pain and the horror. But he did not interrupt her and she was grateful, for it was the first time in her life she could bare all of herself.
When she was finished, she closed her eyes and said, “This painting is awful.”
“I will have it removed,” Fave said, “I understand why you didn’t tell me.”
“I thought—”
“what everybody ought to,” Fave said, “but I am a Cohen.”
