It wasn’t the way her body welcomed his as he slid deep inside her that told him. Not the way she melted like warm milk chocolate beneath him, whispering sexy words with each measured thrust that told him. Not the beautiful way she rose up to meet him, not the so familiar taste of her lips and skin, not the soft sounds that turned to throaty moans as he possessed her.
It was the moment her eyes locked with his, something warm and comfortable shining brighter than the lust that told him. It drove him to the edge of himself to see acceptance there. Acceptance of the man he was and could be because she needed him. Wanted only him.
He was home.
Just the way her skin glowed with a sheen of sweat was intoxicating to him. The hard wet grip of her body as she tumbled over the edge, his name on her lips, her legs so tight around his waist. She tossed her head back, her cries loud as she lost herself in the pleasure he gave her. He couldn’t hold out any longer.
With a wordless cry, he followed her over. He gave and gave, bathing her with his essence, and reveling in the knowledge that she was his in every way. Nothing had ever felt this right; no woman had ever felt this right.
“I love you.” The words, pulled from somewhere deep in his soul, spilled out as he settled on top of her. He whispered them, felt them, and let them shimmer between them. Cradling her close, their bodies still connected, he savored the feeling of being home.