Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

A ihan stirred and woke as the bed dipped under Col’s weight. She had wondered if he would come to her tonight or not, after the events they had just endured, and fallen asleep concluding that he wouldn’t. She had tried to pretend it was for the best and ignore the ache in her chest. After all, hadn’t she just decided that afternoon she needed to put him at arm’s length?

But here he was, sliding in beside her.

“Aihan?” he said softly.

“Hm,” She rolled towards him, no more able to resist him than the pull of the tide.

She nuzzled into him, and he hugged her close, their legs intertwined. She felt the weight of unspoken words between them, but was reluctant to break the silence. For what could she say? Better to say nothing than speak of feelings she was unwise to entertain.

His heart belonged to his wife. She had known that from the beginning, and she had thought it made him safe, for she couldn’t become too entangled with a man who had no heart to give. But she had become entangled, she realised. His affection, as much as his passion, had snared her, and so had his need. It was so obvious he was starving for the care and touch she gave without realising.

“Hana?” he murmured over her head.

“Hm?” She lifted her head, and he kissed her. One of those soft, tender kisses he’d given her this afternoon. And tore the heart out of her.

That organ pumped hard now, as his lips teased a response from her, and she kissed him back, helpless to resist. What does he mean by this?

“Thank ye,” he said softly. “I know ye dinnae want my thanks, but ye have it anyway.” His face was in shadow; there wasn’t much light beyond the slight glow from the fireplace, so she couldn’t divine his expression, but she thought it was similar to this afternoon. Softened in a way that made her grow weak with longing.

She forced a chuckle to mask her feelings and said lightly, “Ye’re welcome. Anything else I can do fer ye?” She made her tone suggestive. Better to get things into more familiar channels. Sex was safer without emotions. She let her hand stray down his chest towards his groin.

His gasp when she clasped him, and the satisfying heft and firmness, told her that his gratitude hadn’t stifled his passion.

“Aihan,” The aching longing in his tone set her heart racing and made her wet. When has he uttered my name like that before? He usually called her lass, or occasionally Hana, a sweet diminutive; he seldom used her full name at all. She stroked him with more purpose, and he trapped her mouth with his. Kisses that devoured, and gave and took, as his hips surged urgently into her grip. She spread her legs for him, and he rolled into position between them.

His hand stroked her wet flesh, and she flexed her hips upwards, as eager as he to move things forward. Notching the head of his cock to her entrance, he pushed inside with a smooth thrust that made them both utter noises of satisfaction.

He drove into her with steady purpose, his hands pressing against hers, palm to palm beside her head, his eyes on her face. She couldn’t look away; his gaze held her captive as the long hard length of him ravaged her within. She writhed beneath him, reaching eagerly for that pleasure that teased her with possibility. He felt so good inside her; she panted, pushing herself to climax, her inner muscles flexing and squeezing him as he thrust deep and hard. Good, so good!

The pleasure built and built within her. She groaned from an excess of pleasure and frustration. So close!

“Ahh!” The cry tore from her throat as the wave peaked and held, and the hot release of him within her triggered her own climax. It crashed through her in a flood of pulsating delight, tingling to her extremities.

“Aihan!” His groan reverberated through her as their bodies melded in the boneless aftermath, and he lay prone and breathing heavily against her ear.

It was very simple sex, yet it had touched every part of her being. She squeezed him, arms, legs, inner muscles, in sudden gratitude. He made her feel so good.

He grunted and rolled off her, onto his back. Then he groped for her hand and kissed it. “Always good,” he murmured: so much an echo of her own thoughts, her skin prickled.

He reached for her, settling her into his embrace, and she got comfortable even as the thought of no longer having his arms around her taunted her. She pushed the thought away. She would leave soon; she must. But not yet.

Col lay listening to her breathing and let his body fully relax. The sex had been good, but he would have been content to just hold her tonight. Not that he regretted it. He felt buoyant and relaxed, and optimistic about tomorrow. Rory was out of danger, and he and Callum seemed to be getting on better. He just needed to improve his own relations with both of them.