“Don't fight it,” he said, pressing his arousal against her belly. “It only gets better.”

“Are you sure?”

He nodded. “Positive.”

Her legs went slack again, and this time Charles nudged them further open, settling into the space between her thighs. He moved his hand, and then his manhood touched her, softly probing at her entry.

“That's right,” he whispered. “Open for me. Relax.” He pushed forward, then stopped for a moment. “How is that?” he asked, but his voice was strained, and Ellie could tell that he was exerting extraordinary control to keep himself from making love to her completely.

“It's very strange,” she admitted. “But good. It's—Oh!” She yelped as he moved even closer to her center. “You tricked me.”

“That's what it's all about, sweetling.”

“Charles, I—”

His face grew serious. “This might hurt you a little.”

“It won't,” she assured him. “Not with you.”

“Ellie, I…Oh, God, I can't wait any longer.” He plunged forward, sheathing himself completely within her. “You feel so…I can't…Oh, Ellie, Ellie.”

Charles's body began to move in its primitive rhythm, each thrust accompanied by sounds that were half-groan, half-breath. She was so perfect, so responsive. He'd never before felt desire with this total, complete urgency. He wanted to cherish her and devour her at the same time. He wanted to kiss her, love her, surround her. He wanted everything from her, and he wanted to give her every last piece of himself.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he realized this was love, that elusive emotion he'd managed to escape for so many years. But his ideas and feelings were overwhelmed by the raging need of his body, and he lost all power of thought.

He could hear her moans grow higher in pitch, and he knew that she felt the same desperation and need. “Reach for it, Ellie,” he said. “Reach for it.”

And then she shattered beneath him, muscles tightening like a velvet glove around him, and Charles let out a loud shout as he plunged forward one last time, releasing himself into her womb.

He shuddered a few times with the aftershocks of climax, then collapsed on top of her, dimly realizing that he was probably too heavy for her, but unable to move. Finally, when he felt as if he might have a little bit of control over his body again, he started to roll off of her.

“Don't,” she said. “I like feeling you.”

“I'll crush you.”

“No, you won't. I want to—”

He rolled to his side, pulling her along with him. “See? Isn't this nice?”

She nodded and closed her eyes, looking weary but well-loved.

Charles played absently with her hair, wondering how this had happened, that he had fallen in love with his wife—a woman he'd chosen so impulsively and so desperately. “Did you know I dream about your hair?” he asked.

She opened her eyes in delighted surprise. “Really?”

“Mmm, yes. I always used to think it was the exact color of the sun at sunset, but now I realize that I'm wrong.” He pinched a lock and brought it to his lips. “It's brighter. Brighter than the sun. And so are you.”