Runaway by Heather Graham Page B

reason.
    It was then, only then, that he rose above her. She lay too stunned to protest, to worry—to fear him at all. This time the fullness of his weight wedged firmly between her legs. And despite the wealth of sensation that still surrounded her, she came quickly to full reality when he first thrust into her. She could not scream, would not scream, when the whole of the boat might hear her! But as careful a lover as he had been, the pain was staggering. Tears leapt to her eyes. She buried her head hard against the muscles of his chest, trying not to let them spill from her eyes.
    His hand cupped her cheek. She could not meet his eyes. She was suddenly certain that she could never do so again. “It’s all right,” he whispered. “It’s all right.…”
    It wasn’t all right. She wanted to shake herself from him. It felt as if there were a sword slicing into her!
    “Please, God!”
    “It will pass, I swear it.”
    Like it or not, he rose above her, and forced her eyes to his. She blinked furiously, determined that she wasn’t going to be a coward now. But she could scarce stand it and he hadn’t even begun to move. And she knew that he would. That he would be seeking that shattering splendor he had managed to touch within her.…
    “It will not be so bad,” he whispered softly, watching her eyes. “Remember, I swept you away from some fate worse than death!”
    “Death might be just fine right now!” she murmured, and he laughed, but there was something tender in that laughter, and she knew that whatever might come in the black void of a future that loomed before her, she could never fault him for tonight. Just when she thought that she would truly die with the pain, his whisper came against her lips. “Did I say you were worth one million? Make it at least two … no, there can be no value set upon you. You are priceless.”
    Luckily he clasped her to him, for the tears did fall from her eyes. Not from the pain, from the sweet gift of the words. In all of her life no one had spoken so gently to her.
    Let it come. Let the pain come.…
    And it did. But oddly enough, as he had promised, it was fleeting. And to her absolute amazement the wonder began to build again. Magical sunrays reached throughout her to touch her. The searing hot pulse of his sex, so alien at first, brought thrusts of silver to shimmer throughout her. Slow at first, so very slow, sliding into her until she thought she would be split in two, until she was filled with it, feeling it from her womb to her heart. Yet she was barely aware when he quickened his pace, when the tension riddled his body so hotly that he couldno longer make love with control. All she knew was that she was suddenly swept into it. And it was magic again, the sunrays streaking out, the molten honey coursing through her. She wanted him, wanted something, wanted desperately to taste and touch and feel it all again.…
    And she did. Raw splendor exploded all around her. Went to blackness. She wasn’t sure that she lived, that she breathed. But he was with her still, with her when the black curiously faded to light. She felt the massive, terrible tension of his body, then a thrust that once again seemed to tear her apart. Then the honey again, streaming and racing into her, filling her with something sweet and warm.…
    He fell to his side beside her, his breathing as ragged as her own, his muscles slick with sweat and glistening. She closed her eyes, biting into her lower lip, both exalted with this wedding night and still embarrassed by it.
    She hadn’t even known him before this night.
    His arm was around her. She curled against his chest, grateful, for the moment, that she didn’t have to meet that searching ebony stare of his. His thumb moved over her cheek.
    “Tears,” he murmured. “I’m sorry to have hurt you.”
    “I am not hurt,” she said. But she was, of course. Now that the shattering magic was gently fading away, she could feel the soreness