Page 55 of A Scar in the Bone
I could never get close enough. Neverbeclose enough.
My head buzzed, the dragon at my core vibrating, full of him, his scent, his touch, the delicious solidity of him.
He was here with me, a miracle come to life.
His breath landed warm and sweet on the side of my face, and I turned my head, seeking, claiming his mouth like a woman starved. Starved for him. Starved for a balm to the pain, to the ache, to the long-suffering loneliness.
For some incomprehensible reason, he stilled against my lips.
“Please, please,” I growled, shamelessly determined to have him, to keep him with me. Never lose him again.
“Tamsyn—” he muttered, but I would not let him finish.
Seizing his head between my hands, I renewed my efforts, kissing him, sliding my tongue against the seam of his mouth.
I felt a shudder go through him. A great sigh lifted his broad chest, and then, as though an invisible thread snapped between us, he made a grunt of sound and lowered me down, stopping at the last moment to ease me onto my back carefully.
His weight came over me, bearing down, sinking us both into the soft furs.
The comforting weight, the sheer size and pressure of him engulfed me, ignited me.
Fire bubbled in my veins as his hands went to my hips, nudging me to lift up so that he could pull my shift up and over my head in one fluid move.
There was a brief wash of cool air and then he was there. Again. A pulsing, radiating wall that bore me down.
I welcomed him between my legs, feeling the swollen length of him, hot and prodding against the insides of my thighs.
I tilted my hips, seeking, hungry for him, whimpering for an end to the ache, longing to pick up where we left off a year ago. We’d barely started before it was all ripped away. I had wasted so much time keeping him at arm’s length, wary and afraid, when we could have been doing this all those nights together on the crossing, in the Borg …
His mouth ravaged mine, gliding down my throat, the slope of my shoulders …
I wriggled beneath him.
His hardness settled against my sex. He rolled his hips, rubbing against me where I was wet and aching.
He stoked my fire, building the want in me, the throbbing so deep that my need sharpened to pain. Only one layer of fabric between us, and I wanted it gone. I was gasping, desperate for that … for our bodies to join like before, again—to be more than memory, to be real, to benow.
I threaded my fingers through his long hair, following the strands down to the middle of his back. My nails scraped over the smooth dip of his spine, gratified by his hissing breath in my ear.
I frowned slightly, something rousing awake inside me, niggling through the fog of my mind like the stirring of a breeze.
A feeling. A sense. An awareness.
I lifted my hands back to the crown of his head and stroked myfingers through the length of his hair again, following the moonbeam strands that ran past his shoulders and down his back.
Fell’s hair had never been this long before. My frown deepened. It had stopped just at his shoulders.
I stilled beneath him, stopping my slippery grind against him.
Other things caught my notice then. I touched his neck, lightly stroking his skin, searching for the heavy chain of his opal necklace. It was gone. Had he lost it? I’d never seen him without it.
Fear trickled through me.
My marked hand …
I flexed my fingers, gave them a little shake, moving them as though I were playing an instrument, testing, seeking. My palm had gone silent, still and flat as a dormant wind. No warmth. No tingle. No buzz as when he was near.
Alwayswhen he was near.
