Black Hills by Nora Roberts

them together forever.
    They lowered to kneel, face-to-face, and she sighed against his lips.
    He stroked her, her hair, her back, her face, and finally her breasts. He’d felt them before, felt her heart kick against his palm when he touched her. But this was different. This was prelude.
    He drew off her shirt, and saw the smile in her eyes as she drew off his. Her breath caught when he unhooked her bra. Then her eyes fluttered closed as for the time he touched her there skin to skin.
    “Oh. Well. That’s definitely warming me up.”
    “You’re like . . .” He searched for the right words as he cupped her breasts, used his thumbs to tease her nipples. “Gold dust, all over.”
    “You haven’t seen all over yet.” She opened her eyes, looked into his. “Things are coming to life inside me I didn’t even know were there. Everything’s all jumpy and hot.” She reached out, rubbed her palms over his chest. “Is it like that for you?”
    “Except I knew they were there. Lil.” He bent his head and took her breast into his mouth. The flavor of her flooded him, the sound of her shock and delight raced wild through his blood.
    Her arms came around him, urging him, and stayed around him when they collapsed on the blanket.
    She hadn’t known there would be so much. Storms and waves and shudders. Nothing she’d read—not the texts, not the novels—had prepared her for what happened to her own body.
    Her mind seemed to lift out of it, release it, so there was nothing but feeling.
    She raced her lips over his shoulder, his throat, his face, giving in to the urge to feed on him. When his hand stroked down her torso, fought open the button of her jeans, she quivered. And thought: Yes. Please, yes.
    When she tried to do the same for him, he drew back.
    “I need to . . .” His breath came ragged as he dragged his wallet out. “I might forget, just stop thinking.”
    “Okay.” She lay back, touched her own breasts. “Everything feels different already. I think . . . Oh.” Her eyes widened as he yanked off his jeans. “Wow.”
    Elemental male pride at her reaction had him slanting a glance at her as he ripped open the condom. “It’ll fit.”
    “I know how it works, but . . . let me.” Before he could sheath himself she sat up to touch him.
    “Holy shit, Lil.”
    “It’s smooth,” she murmured as another wave of heat rolled through her. “Hard and smooth. Will it feel like that inside me?”
    “Keep that up, you’re not going to know for a while.” His breathing fast and shallow, he caught her wrist, pulled her hand away.
    He struggled to focus, concentrated on the protection. “Let me,” he said as he lowered to her. “Just let me this first time.”
    He kissed her, long, slow, deep, and hoped his instincts ran true. She seemed to soften under him, and then as he stroked his hand down, quivered.
    She was already wet, and that nearly undid him. Praying for control, he slipped a finger into her. Her hips arched up as her fingers dug into his back.
    “Oh, God, oh, God.”
    “It’s good.” Hot, soft, wet. Lil. “Is it good?”
    “Yes. Yes. It’s . . .”
    She felt something rise up, fly off, and take her breath with it. He was kissing her, kissing her, anchoring her, letting her go. She arched again, to find more. Then again, again.
    This, she thought, this.
    Swimming in the heat, she felt him shift, felt him press at the core of her. She opened her eyes, struggled to focus, watched his face, the intensity of those crystal blue eyes.
    It hurt. For a moment the pain was so shocking through the pleasure she went stiff with denial.
    “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
    She didn’t know if he intended to stop or go on, but knew she was on the brink of something unimagined. She gripped his hips, and reared up to find it, to know it.
    The pain struck again, another shock and burn—and he was inside her. With her.
    “It fit,” she managed.
    He dropped his head on her shoulder with a breathless and choked