Page 51 of Peak of Love
Without inhibition, Celina matched the swirling rhythm of his hips to meet him at every grind. Her body was so taut with anticipation, every point of contact was a lash of flaming pleasure.
And then it began: an orgasm that sucked her breath away and bowed her back before the first enormous cresting crash. “Dane, oh god, Dane, Dane,” she screamed through the shattering climax.
He slowed as she caught her breath. Dane kissed her possessively. She returned his passion with all her heart. When she playfully bit his lip, he pushed his hard cock deeper.
“I love it when you scream my name,” he grunted as he pumped into her in a steady rhythm. “Scream it again, sexy girl.”
At that, he placed both of her legs over his shoulders and the angle awoke the nerve endings deep in her channel. A tightening of her inner core intensified, making her moan his name as each powerful plunge pushed her body closer to another brink.
“I can’t hold it.” His words morphed into garbled sounds of restraint. “My sweet Celina, say you’re mine.” She caught words muffled by emotion.
“I’m yours, Dane. I love you and I’m yours,” she said breathlessly just as her walls began to quiver. Her words mixed with the roar of Dane’s manly release.
Through the haze of bliss, they watched each other fall apart.
Celina and Dane cuddled by the fireplace with a buffet of snacks in front of them: various cheeses, apple slices, pretzels, chocolate. He’d offered to take her to dinner anywhere she wanted, but her response was too perfect.
“And get dressed? Nah.”
He finally got that dress off. He liked that he wouldn’t have to give it back any time soon. Celina agreed to stay the night when Tori volunteered to watch the twins.
“I’ve been meaning to give you something,” he ventured. “I didn’t want to do it in front of the boys.”
She pulled back and tilted her head in bewilderment.
It took him a second to regain his confidence. Dane pushed the hesitation away. There would not be a better time.
“Wait here.”
He stood to grab the shoebox he had retrieved while helping Parker and Grace. The process of memorializing Asher’s life, as opposed to mourning its loss, was only beginning. The next stage would include Celina and the boys. Till then, the three picked through old school binders and tattered soccer socks, athletic bags and a couple of ancient laptops. Asher wasn’t great about getting rid of clutter. It was tedious and, at times, unbearably sad. Yet Dane’s time with the Whittakers brought the three of them closer. They shared memories of the past as well as reflected on the future.
At Grace’s urging, they put aside some artwork from Asher’s childhood. Parker decided which of the trophies were the most important to keep. Asher’s first tennis racket and his championship soccer ball were also saved for the boys.
Dane offered the tattered shoebox to Celina. He kept a cautious distance because, restless and nervous, he couldn’t seem to sit down.
She pulled out the first postcard. “These are—” Her voice broke. “He kept them? He keptallof them?” Whispered words full of awe and agony escaped her lips.
Mr. Espinoza, Celina’s dad, was a pilot. Theirs was a family of tireless travelers. The three sisters had been around the world twice by the time Celina went to college. Once Celina and Asher started dating at fifteen, she made a point of sending postcards to her boyfriend from each city. She occasionally sent more than one postcard from an especially interesting location. Throughout high school, she offered notes full of humor and updates and observations.
When Dane saw what was in the shoebox, he saved it for her. He didn’t read any of her writings. However, a quick glance revealed scenic cards from Tokyo, from Munich, from Istanbul. There were dozens.
From the distance of the fireplace, he watched in silent reverence. One at a time, Celina took out the postcards she had sent Asher through those years. At one point, a gasp of surprise came out of her. Occasionally, a giggle and a few snorts mixed with her fond mumblings. Once in a while, she’d mutter random statements like “Jesus, I was a drama queen” or “No way that happened in Rome.” Every word was mostly to herself, under her breath. As she worked through the stack, she would pause and stare into the fire before continuing. With only a few left in her hand, she sighed and looked up to mouth a silentthank you.
The whole time, tears fell. A blanket of moisture covered her face as she worked through the joy and pain of reminiscing simple messages from the past. Dane was watching her so intently he saw the moment her shoulders stiffened.
“Remember when Asher attended that soccer camp in England for two weeks?” she asked with a thoughtful frown on her face. “When he stayed with his uncle.”
“Yeah,” Dane answered.
It was the summer before senior year, and Asher was seriously considering his chances of going pro instead of to college. He was an all-star soccer player in the Northwest, yet got his ass kicked in Manchester. Still had a blast, though, if Dane remembered correctly. The experience firmly confirmed that he was college bound in the US.
“Our cat, Sydney, died that summer, so I called Asher.” She sounded embarrassed. “She was sick, which is why I stayed in town.”
“I remember your cat. Asher had it once in a while right?” Dane asked.
“That’s why I called him while he was in England. Sydney was Asher’s pet as much as mine.”
She cleared her throat before continuing. “This one’s—” she started, before choking on her words. Celina closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them, she sought Dane’s face.
