Maya Banks - The Darkest Hour

She sucked in her breath and held it when his lips hovered precariously close to her nipple. She strained upward, wanting that intimate contact. Her nipples puckered and formed stiff, sensitive points.

And then his mouth closed around one straining peak.

Her knees buckled, and she clutched desperately at his shoulders in her effort to remain standing. He sucked strongly and laved the bud with his tongue.

Pleasure streaked sharply through her groin. Her pelvis tightened unbearably, and her clit swelled and twitched. She wanted him to touch her there, to relieve the unbearable pressure that grew with each swipe of his tongue.

For a moment, she lost her sense of time and place. Feeling, sensation, things she’d long been void of, came rushing at her from all directions. It frightened and thrilled her in equal parts. For too long the only things she’d felt were fear and loathing. How much more powerful were sensations of being loved and cherished?

And then he gently enfolded her in his arms, almost as if he knew how quickly she’d spiraled out of control. He was an anchor in a violent storm. Her rock. Her protection. She melted into him, holding on to him with what she could only deem desperation.

He picked her up. Her feet left the floor, and he carried her back until the mattress clipped the backs of her calves. Then he lowered her ever so carefully. His eyes bore into her. His expression was a study in fierce concentration. And determination.

Her back met the plush softness of the sheets. She shivered when for a moment he left her. Immediately she felt bereft of his warmth.

But he returned, crawling onto the bed. He loomed over her, his gaze so intent that she felt the heat to her toes.

“I wonder if you even know how beautiful you are to me,” he whispered as he straddled her body.

Sudden tears swam in her eyes, and she smiled up at him. She reached up to touch his face, her fingers shaking with the force of her emotions.

“Right now I feel beautiful.”

He captured her hand and pressed her palm to his lips. “I don’t want a day to ever go by where you don’t feel as beautiful as you do right now then. I’ll consider it my job to remind you at every opportunity.”

Her heart melted.

He took her hands and slowly lowered them to the mattress. He slid them high, just above her head, until he stared down at her, and she lay underneath him, completely vulnerable.

The thought should scare her. Logically. But she’d never felt safer. She smiled and arched her body invitingly.

With a tortured groan, he kissed her hungrily, loosing some of his tightly held control. He didn’t just kiss her, he ravaged her mouth.

Hot. Deep. So breathless she could never catch up. His tongue slid over hers, tasting, delving until all she could taste was him. All she could feel was him.

His body came down over hers, his hardness melding to her softer curves. His erection prodded impatiently at the juncture of her thighs, but he didn’t press forward. She cradled his hardness, the delicious sensation of him sliding over her most tender flesh, so erotic, so immensely pleasurable.

She opened her legs, and his cock jumped, bumping against her swollen, throbbing clitoris. She moaned softly and twisted restlessly underneath him. He swallowed up the sounds she made. Devoured them and her with his hungry mouth.

The past year slipped from her mind. There was only now. Only the indescribable feeling of being back in her husband’s arms. He moved over her, big and urgent. She felt small underneath him but so very protected and cherished.

He swallowed her. No part of her was left untouched. His hands slid down her waist to her hips. His fingers curled underneath her buttocks, and he held her as he inserted his thigh between hers to spread her farther.

Then he slipped a hand between them and tenderly pushed his finger between her folds. The tip fluttered across her clitoris, and she reacted immediately, arching up. A whimper escaped her mouth.

He propped himself up with one hand while he carefully explored the delicate tissues of her femininity. He eased one finger inside her, testing her readiness.

It was almost enough to send her completely over the edge. She clamped down around his finger, her body so tight that she feared bursting.

He worked his thumb over the taut nub hidden within her folds, as he slid another finger inside her.

“Ethan, please.”

It didn’t sound like her. This needy, mindless woman wasn’t her, was it? She wanted to beg. Wanted to force him to thrust inside her. She wanted him more than she imagined ever wanting anything else.

As if sensing how far gone she already was, he shifted his body back over again and reached to position his cock at her opening. He took the time to stroke her with his fingers once more before moving his hand up to lace his fingers with hers.

“Tell me if I hurt you,” he said hoarsely. “I want you with me all the way, baby. If anything I do scares you, tell me. I’ll stop.”

In response she lifted her hips, wanting him to slide inside.

He closed his eyes, as if fighting for control, and inched forward. She gasped at the sensation of him opening her, of her body stretching to accommodate him. It was the most magnificent, overwhelming sensation.

Her eyes went wide, and her breath caught in her throat when he probed deeper.

He stopped and looked down at her, his eyes worried.

“Okay?”

She nodded, too wired and senseless to form a coherent response. Her nails dug into his shoulders as she silently urged him on.

Finally he moved. In one hard thrust, he went deep. Her mouth opened in a silent exclamation. Her vision blurred. She shivered uncontrollably and held onto him for dear life. She wasn’t going to last. It was too much. It had been too long.

“Please,” she begged.

She arched, she twisted, she writhed. He cupped her to him and began thrusting hard and fast. Oh God, yes. Finally.

He had been tender. He wanted to be tender, but right now she needed him to be strong. Hard. Fierce. To remind her of all she’d missed.

Her protector. Her warrior.

She threw back her head, squeezed her eyes shut and gripped his shoulders so tight she was sure she’d leave marks.

The friction was so wonderfully torturous that it was almost too much to bear. He was swollen and hard. So hard. He filled her again and again, his body driving relentlessly into her.

Tension built. They both gasped and squeezed.

“Come with me,” Ethan whispered. “Be with me. Love me.”

The gentle words were a balm to her soul. She closed her eyes, gathered him close and simply let go.

His hips powered against hers. He tensed against her and gripped her as hard as she held him. Their bodies were meshed so tightly that there wasn’t a centimeter between them. Their limbs were entwined as their hips undulated in frantic rhythm.

He buried his face in her neck and whispered her name. “Rachel.”

She flew. It was the only word to describe it. She soared. Euphoric, so light. She could almost feel the rush of the wind in her face. She lifted her face to the sun and felt the warmth on her skin after so long in the dark.

And then she floated down, and Ethan was there to catch her. She drifted lazily, finding home in his arms. Home. Finally home.

His lips found hers. He kissed her long and sweet. Hot tears slipped down her cheeks, mingled on their tongues.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She kissed him again, too overcome to say anything. She wasn’t sure she had words for what she was feeling. So she said nothing and nodded.

“I love you, baby. Never doubt that.”

She touched his face, stroking his firm jaw. “I won’t.”

Carefully, he withdrew from her body and rolled to the side. He gathered her close, so close she could feel every beat of his heart.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He stiffened slightly in surprise. His eyes were puzzled when he looked at her. “For what?”

“For making me feel love again.”

He leaned his forehead against hers and drew his fingers through the strands of her hair.

“You’ll never know anything else again,” he vowed.

THE dream was dark and ugly. It hit her on a deep emotional level that frightened her. Ethan was there, but he wasn’t her comforter or the warrior she’d imagined for so long. He was furious with her.

The desperation that gripped her was born of the knowledge that whatever they were once to each other, it was long gone, buried under broken trust.

She faced him, frightened, knowing this was it. The end of their marriage, of their love. She wasn’t strong enough to face him, but he gave her no choice. He wanted her to know. Why was he so adamant?

The eyes she so loved were not filled with warmth and support. They were hard and resolved.

“No,” she whispered. She didn’t want to see him this way. It was just a dream. A nightmare. It wasn’t real. Was it?

You’re a fraud. Your marriage is a fraud. He doesn’t love you.

The voice whispered into the most vulnerable part of her soul. It twisted and turned through the paths, spreading despair in its wake.

“No. No!”

“Rachel. Rachel, wake up, baby. It’s just a dream. Come back to me.”

Gentle hands caressed her face, wiping away the tears on her cheeks. Her eyes fluttered open and she blinked to adjust to the darkness.