Tides of Love

by Tracy Sumner

  She complied, guiding his hips up, tugging his trousers down, while her lips traversed his cheek, his nose, his brow. Tentative pillages, light nibbles and licks, sensation snaking into every exposed pore, setting fire to every nerve ending.

  Although their fingers faltered often, it seemed easy to divest each other of clothing. Boots, he toed off. She wore none. Her divided trousers, he managed quicker than he could a complicated dress. She wore a simple shift, no corset in sight. He had dressed in a hurry to get to her and wore nothing but a pair of worn underclothing. She had no stockings; he had no socks.

  The first touch of her skin against his sent was a shock to his senses. He lifted just enough to allow moonlight to cross her body. Overwhelmed, he could do nothing but stare—and appreciate his good fortune.

  She had grown into an incredibly beautiful woman.

  “Noah.” Embarrassed, she reached for his spectacles.

  He shied away, emitting a husky laugh. “Oh, no, sweet. I waited too long for this, not to see clearly.”

  Her hair a wild, crimson riot flowing over the tattered blankets in such vivid contrast to the ivory sand. Her breasts plump and capped to perfection, nipples budding beneath his scrutiny. Her slightly rounded tummy, the bellybutton so feminine he wanted to smile. The need to smile vanished, the need to touch outweighing all else as his gaze dropped to her hips. Creamy skin and a round birthmark on her pelvic bone. Below, a swirling tuft of hair between her thighs.

  Shapely thighs capping a pair of slender, surprisingly lithe legs.

  “You’re perfect,” he said, and lowered his body to hers, the wind rustling the sea oats above them. “Simply perfect.”

  “No.” A soft denial, followed by a breathless exclamation as he fully covered her.

  He wrenched his spectacles off and flung them to the sand, kissing her cheek, her lips, her neck, wanting... wanting everything. His hand moved to her right breast, his mouth to her left. “Yes. Yes, you’re perfect.” Then he set out to prove it by catching her nipples between his lips and his fingers, lavishing them as he had dreamed of doing. Oh, God, he was....

  Dying. She was dying.

  The man she loved lay atop her, firm muscle to her sleek softness, half breaths rattling from his lungs with each slow grind of his hips, his fingers and teeth, his lips, all over her, everywhere at once. He groaned and in an instant of raw understanding, she realized his need matched hers.

  Gliding her hands past his shoulders, she marveled. He found her perfect? Juste Ciel. He was perfect. If she could only get another look; a real, five-minute one. A vivid picture of his body bloomed in her mind, and she arched into the motion of his hips, capturing a whimper between clenched teeth. His hand had strayed, his fingers delving into the tight curls at her apex, a place forbidden except during bathing, and even then, under evidence of a heated blush.

  He combed and stroked, diligently seeking, oh, merciful heavens... seeking. She stiffened and went on alert when he found what he sought.

  “Trust me.” His lips captured her earlobe, his breath sweeping inside. “I’m here, I’ll always be here.”

  She shook her head and dug her heels into the sand, twisting the blankets and inching away from his hand. She didn’t believe him... could not give him what he sought... not at all certain what he sought. It frightened her, the ease with which he molded her, as if she were a lump of clay in need of shaping.

  Sensing her hesitation, he returned to her mouth and kissed her, seducing her, using whispered words and a velvet touch. She struggled through a cloud of half-formed pleasure. As his tongue began to match the rhythm of his fingers, heat rose from the tips of her toes, flowed up and out her fingertips.

  She trembled, blood pounding in her head. “Please,” she begged, unsure what she begged for.

  A ravenous nip to the side of her breast... a rough tongue laving... hair chafing. Sliding his thigh between hers, he gradually forced her legs apart. Blinding sensation, each one of greater magnitude than the one before. She didn’t know where this would end or how to end it; she could only hang on to him as a painter’s splash stained her lids.

  She clutched his shoulders, dug her nails into his skin as he dipped his finger into her moist folds. Desire clashed with fear, hunger with indecision. Tell him no, maybe, yes. She followed her body’s will, arching, crowding into him, and sending his finger deep inside.

  “Blessit, you’re so warm,” he whispered against her breast. He moved to her nipple, sucking, drawing her in. “So wet.” His finger retreated, and she whimpered. “Let me pleasure you.” Then he plunged. Again, and again.

  A deafening roar, a mad pulsing. Mindless, breathless. A masculine scent on the hand she lifted to her face, moisture and sand on the arm she threw over her eyes. The hammering fury of the ocean, the hammering fury of the man she loved. She shuddered, then shuddered again, her toes curling into the sand. She moaned, perhaps she screamed. However loud, whatever sound, it pealed in her ears.

  “I’ll be here.” He coaxed her, his voice thick, his touch direct and unrelenting.

  Snagging her hands in his hair, she guided his mouth to hers.

  He didn’t follow, instead kissed his way down, swirling his tongue, lewdly, in her navel.

  “Why?” She rocked against his finger as it went deep. His thumb found the erect nub nestled in her curls. He glided his tongue past her hipbone, stopped to suckle the inside of her thigh.

  “I want to taste you, know every crease in your skin.” The words blurred on a labored breath. “I would never hurt you. Trust me, sweet.”

  She did trust him, even as, unbelievably, his mouth replaced his finger.

  One moment of suspended shock, then she broke apart, scattering in a thousand different directions. Need overwhelming reason. Delight overwhelming fear. She thrust her hips and demanded. Ecstasy, pure and undiluted, scorched a wide path, clearing her mind of everything but the reality of him caressing the most intimate part of her, his fingers working in delicate tandem with his mouth. She gasped, needle pricks of pleasure striking her, jettisoning her into a world of shrouded gratification known only to those who sought to grasp it.

  Cool air brushed her skin, and she blinked to find found Noah poised over her, his weight held on his elbows, his gaze ravishing her, setting fire, inch by inch. She wiggled against the aroused flesh nudging the folds he had just vacated. He met her eyes, his as dark as she had ever seen them. The hunger in his gaze sent longing straight through her. Her knees swayed; her legs fell flat.

  Had her heart ever felt this complete, her body this sated, her mind this calm?

  A masculine smile of satisfaction crossed his face. Hands cupping her face, he leaned in, his mouth capturing hers in a long, deliberate kiss. She met each thrust of his tongue, desiring equal partnership. He groaned his approval, slanting his head and taking all she offered.

  “Did you like it, Sweet?”

  She closed her eyes, making a sound like a purr. Her arms flopping wide, she burrowed her fingers knuckle-deep into silken sand, uncaring that she lay before him, naked and complete.

  His thumb smoothed her eyebrow, his hand trembling against her temple, passion building inside him, she knew. “I’ve never, well... I didn’t know if you would like it. God, I wanted you to.” His arm slid under her bottom, angling her hips as he settled against her. “This will be even better.”

  “Not possible.”

  She felt his slow smile. “Just watch.” This said, he seized her lips, a kiss of savage possession, of mastery and crude compulsion. More blatantly sexual than any he had given her. Gone was the seductive, patient lover, the childhood friend. In his place, a man whose need had risen above his level of restraint.

  Elle should have imagined how he would take her comment. Even as a boy, Noah appeared apathetic about swimming contests or boat races, the most unconcerned of the bunch.

  Until dared.

  She had never seen anyone work harder, by honest means, to win.

  And
now, he used his incredible tenacity, his talented lips and fingers, to drive her wild. She blinked into a midnight sky nestled with winking stars. As she stared, the world tilted on its axis.

  “Where next?” His gruff query rang in her ear. “Here?”

  He caught her nipple between his teeth and suckled. “Here?” His hand slipped through her moist curls, he sent his finger into her, once, twice, then a complete, teasing withdrawal.

  Heaven, what had he done to her?

  He pressed his sex against her. “Here?” he asked, each word he spoke more hoarse than the last.

  She dragged her hands from the sand and clutched his shoulders. “Yes.” A memory of her fingers circling him, followed by an image of them joined, shattered her coherence. Moaning, she urged him to sink into her.

  He made a guttural sound and pressed her into the blankets. A creeping thrust; his hold on her tightened. Lifting her hips, she took him deeper. She hid her face in the crook of his neck and breathed in the mix of soap and sea clinging to his skin.

  “So long, I’ve wanted you for so long.” He captured her startled cry as he embedded himself inside her, hip to hip.

  Her body bloomed in response to the unfamiliar fullness, each petal unfolding. The sharp pain quickly subsided, outweighed by pleasure. She smiled and gazed into his face. A muscle in his jaw jumped, a circle of white surrounded his mouth. He tilted his head and swallowed hard, obviously controlling his reaction.

  Her hands skimmed his back, coming to rest above the rounded crest of his bottom. Tentatively, she moved her hips, a fresh torrent of desire claiming her.

  His lids fluttered, his eyes meeting hers for the first time since he’d made her his. “Are you all right?” He pressed a feather-soft kiss to her cheek.

  Amazed by the gratifying completeness, and so all right she could not believe it, she nodded. Grasping his waist, she made an impatient movement he could not help but understand. “But I think you need to... work harder... to win this bet, Professor.”

  He laughed and complied, the muscles in his buttocks bunching as he withdrew so far she feared he would pop out. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, before claiming her lips and doing a gradual, glorious slide back.

  Tender movements became fierce, amused expressions resolute. Restraint broken, he set a furious, steady pace, surging into her, each stroke seeming to touch deeper than the last. She rose to meet him, lost in a tide of tactile awareness. Whiskers scraping her cheek... teeth closing around her inflamed nipple... muscles, damp and hard, flexing beneath her fingertips... hips bumping, bruising and rough. Savage and untamed, fighting for subsistence, for the most basic gratification. And every place she hungered, he found: touching, licking, driving, tensing.

  He raised her knee to his waist. She lifted her leg, locking her ankles behind his back, marveling at the wonderment of him thrusting, filling her completely.

  “Ma chere fille.” Low and ragged, the once-loved designation brought her closer, ever closer to the edge. For the second time.

  “I’ll be there, with you. Always,” he whispered next to her ear.

  A swift crest, a headlong dive. Harder, then harder again. The wind whipped the blanket against their hips, sand pricking their skin. She searched, thrashing and whimpering. He answered, his finger finding the nub of flesh he had teased before. Keeping his pounding rhythm, he touched her there, purposely.

  And she exploded.

  “Thank God, only so long I could think of fish,” he said over the odd ringing in her ears. The ground shifted, and she arched into him, digging her heels into his calves, clasping him to her. Heartbeat to heartbeat, slick skin to slick skin. They fought for the same air, not enough for both of them it seemed.

  As she drifted back, he called her name, his body shuddering. Driving deep once more, he buried his face in her hair and gathered her close, panting. For a long moment, they lay silent and dazed, limbs tangled in an intimate, damp jumble. Tremors shook him and passed to her.

  He lifted his head, his gaze feral. A bead of sweat crossed his cheek; a rapid pulse beat at his temple. She smoothed her finger over the bulging vein, swept the drop of moisture away with her thumb. He leaned into her touch, his lids fluttering, the scarred one drooping. She smiled. She hadn’t noticed before, but his nose was peeling, and his cheeks were freckled from the sun. The dark circles beneath his eyes attested to his lack of sleep.

  Had she ever looked at him this closely? Would she ever again?

  He released a weary sigh and rolled to his back, pulling her with him, pressing her into his side. He brushed her hair from her brow and laid a soft kiss on the crown of her head. “Better than candy,” he murmured and yawned.

  Fulfilled, she snuggled against him, the muscles beneath her cheek relaxing as he slipped into sleep. The arm around her went slack, the other lay across his belly, his slim, well-shaped fingers splayed wide. She searched for his hand, linking their fingers. Automatically, his tightened in possession.

  Forever.

  She would treasure what they’d shared forever, even if it had been the biggest mistake of her life.

  Because, how long would it be before Noah began to regret?

  Chapter 16

  “It is thus quite intelligible that a world

  of animals may live in the dark abyss.”

  C. Wyville Thomson

  The Depths of the Sea

  Contentment. Completion. The first of either Noah had truly felt in twenty-seven years of living. Before this night, how could he possibly have understood what holding the woman of his dreams as he made love to her, her tremors of release shaking him to the core of his being. He had never even slept in the same, well... never spent the entire night with someone.

  He liked it; he liked it a lot.

  He smiled, amazed by his stupidity. By believing he could reason his way out of loving her. He gazed at the sapphire blaze streaking the sky and realized Elle was no longer chaste.

  Then, neither was he.

  Since he awoke to find her draped across his chest, her breath teasing his skin, her hand clutching his, he’d struggled to remember a time before her.

  A bit panicked, the answer struck hard.

  Ten years ago, he left more than two loving brothers.

  He stooped to grasp a conch shell, dusting off bits of sand. What if he had returned to find her married to Magnus Leland? A cinnamon-headed child bouncing on her hip, another man’s child suckling at her breast. Another man. Noah flung the shell into the waves.

  She was his; he would waste no more time on regrets and fear.

  It wasn’t entirely his fault, he reasoned. He’d always been rather possessive of her, fiercely protective and unable to shrug off the sense of responsibility. In some fashion, he had recognized the bond between them.

  But Elle recognized the love.

  Dammit, at seventeen, how could he know that he would never find another woman to match her, that she would be the one to fill the emptiness inside him? With all of Elle’s foolishness and flippancy, chasing him down the street on a daily basis, he hadn’t dared lower his guard long enough to find out.

  Now, he would put the past behind him. Forge a solid relationship with his brothers, with Rory. Let the wounds of distrust heal. Take a chance on the future. Take a chance on love.

  Love.

  Water lapped at his ankles as he walked forward. The wave retreated and coquina shells pricked the pads of his feet. Why hadn’t she told him she loved him earlier? How many years since he’d looked into her vivid green eyes and known for sure? Perhaps she had confused her fondness for a childhood friend. He had certainly accused her of that enough times.

  He dropped to his haunches, his trousers getting soaked to the knee. He thought women always said those words after coupling. During, maybe even. Elle hadn’t said anything remotely maudlin. Of course, he might have missed three little words, if she’d whispered them, or mumbled them against his neck or something.

  He drew his hand across his
whiskered jaw and sighed, his skin scented with almond and honey and woman. He sought to disprove the cold lump of suspicion collecting in his gut, the familiar fear of rejection, yet he could not.

  Caleb’s betrayal still stung. Of course, Noah was the fool; he should have stayed and let his brother beat him to a pulp, if necessary. They could have solved the problem a week later, not ten years.

  “Noah?”

  He wrenched around, landing flat on his bottom.

  Elle stared, wide-eyed, for all of ten seconds, then she slipped her hand over her mouth and burst into laughter. She wore her shift and nothing more. Moonlight flowed through the thin material, silhouetting her body well enough to stir parts of his he had thought were satisfied.

  He shoved to his feet, his trousers, minus underclothing, sticking to his legs like wet parchment. “You think scaring the life out a person is funny, huh?”

  She shook her head, yet choked for breath, the laughter still bubbling.

  He took a step forward. She took a step back. She broke into a run, and he was right behind her.

  They stumbled up the beach, a faltering gait in the sand. He caught her about the waist, swung her off her feet, and against his chest. “Forfeit,” he said, recalling a childhood game.

  She giggled in delight, this woman who never giggled. “If you remember correctly, Professor, I never yield. You’ll have to torture me first.”

  Her playful tone sent desire straight to his loins. He hardened against her bottom. “What kind of torture do you have in mind, sweet?” He seized her shift and tugged it to her hips in bunched fistfuls.

  She gasped, not able to form a coherent response when his fingers teased, delving into the patch of curls at her apex, spreading, exploring, penetrating.

  “Is this adequate punishment?” He found a bare spot on her shoulder and sucked.

  Her head lolled forward, then back. She sighed in reply.

  He settled her atop the blankets. Her shift fluttered to the ground; his shirt and trousers followed. Passion clawed at him, a ravenous beast demanding nourishment.