But in that moment, no humiliation or disappointment waited in her eyes, and she seemed to understand. She even seemed to share his hunger. Gently, she traced his lips with her thumb, telling him with her eyes, as she’d done so many times, that she trusted him. And with his own eyes, he told her the same.

Without words, and with a slightly faltering breath, she freed her arms from her sleeves and let her robe fall on the countertop. He tried to compose himself at the disclosure of smooth, bare lines, but then she moved her hands to his pants. She popped the button, pulled down the zipper. While one hand returned to his hair, the other lingered below, and the way she took hold of him made it impossible to get out her name on one breath. Her own breath was shallow, elevated with what he could only hope was excitement, and with the connection of her eyes, she pled for him to continue. With the assertive way she grasped his hair, she didn’t give him a choice.

He let his every reserve go as he kissed her, let it seep through his feverish skin and dissipate into the air, and when he brought his hand to her breast, she murmured a sound so sensual he could taste the delicious ecstasy. And he thanked God that he was the man lucky enough to hear it.

Arching her back, she pressed herself firmly against his hand, and her own hands became more aggressive. He pulled her from the countertop and secured her around him, her chest against his a euphoric sensation. With his thoughts on her red bed sheets, he rushed toward her bedroom, her hips already moving against him and her kisses filled with aroused sighs.

Control began slipping from him as he slammed her against her bedroom door, but that aggression seemed to fuel her, for she slid her feet into his pants, pushing them to the floor. She reached behind her as they kissed, opening her door, and he had barely stepped out of his pants before the edge of her bed hit his shins.

He threw her upon it with a growl that sounded too much like his darker side, and was over her at once, pinning her hands roughly to the sheets. She appeared frightened, or perhaps nervous, for the briefest second, but he entered her before his mind could get a hold on it. She inhaled sharply, a noise akin to a cry of pain, and his own breath left him abruptly, his voice a gravelly sound as he murmured her name. He wondered if he should stop, but she felt better than he had expected. It surrounded him, the physical presence of her being, and though he would stop in an instant if she desired, taking away such contact would be a bitter death.

Then her body relaxed, moving with him, and when she intertwined her fingers with his, all was right. The more in sync they became, the less he could align his thoughts.

He slowed, since he longed to live every moment inside her, and met her eyes. Something he once thought an impossible feat: face to face in the moment of intimacy. But this was true intimacy. And it felt more natural and easy than anything in his life. It was just one of the many ways Elizabeth was different than the rest. She offered him hope above all things, and the sight of her below, giving him every part of herself, demanded urgency.

Wrapping his arm beneath her, he propped himself up with his other. While holding her close, her body arching to his and his own rolling with every thrust, he twisted her moist hair around his hand, firmly taking hold and forcing her mouth to his. With her body imprisoned, the air between them was humid, and at the intense and carnal rise of his climax, he heaved a groan into her mouth, and then another. Her fingers dug roughly into his arm, her own body tensing, and she could hardly kiss him, her breath a whimper as she attempted to keep her tongue mingled with his.

It was in that carnal, almost animalistic moment, Henry’s wounds healed. It was trust, it was liberation, and it could come only by a moment like this.

***

When all had slowed and little elements of reality floated down to Henry, he kissed Elizabeth softly, relaxing his body over hers, for the first time in his life feeling truly tranquil. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to drift on that tranquil sea, allowing the weightless, euphoric burning of his every muscle to keep him afloat. He laid his head over her heart, desperate to hear it. It had become one of his favorite sounds over the past month, and its rapid rate made a good companion with their winded breaths. In that moment, the air stilled and every star aligned. And this was the start of a new life.

He caressed her ribs, kissing her chest. Her skin was still sultry, and now that tranquility had come over him, he ran his eyes over her with no hurry, taking in every exquisite edge that caught the rays of sunlight. His lips continued to explore her as he did, the action beyond his control, and her chest breathlessly shuddered beneath him. His hand followed, slowly, lightly tracing over the condensation on her skin, and he knew she was meant for him. She’d always been; forty-nine years of punishment, and then her. And it had been worth every minute, the punishment.

Her hand found his and he took it, kissing her palm and wrist. She wore a fresh bandage on her arm and he tried not to look at it, tried not to let it remind him he should still hate himself. He looked up instead, and his heart stopped. Tears dwelled in the corners of her eyes, replacing ones that had already left streaks on her skin. He lifted himself onto his elbow, wiping them away with his thumb. “I hurt you, didn’t I?” he asked, somewhat anxiously, feeling ill. “Did I—?”

She shook her head in earnest. “No, Henry,” she whispered. “I just didn’t know I would ever get to experience this with you. And I’ve never felt so…complete. I’ve never…” The words caught in her throat, and it was almost strange to him that Elizabeth, who always knew what to say to him, couldn’t speak.

“I know,” he said just as quietly, resting his forehead on hers. “Me either.” She kissed him, intertwining her leg with his. An unmeasured moment passed while he stared into her eyes and she into his, and the fear he once felt seemed like something from another life. With an unsteady swallow, he admitted, “I was afraid of you. More than I’ve ever been of anything.”

“Why?”

“Because the first time I looked into your eyes, I saw it. I saw that you were going to change everything for me. I’d never seen anyone so beautiful, Elizabeth, not ever. I wanted to prove myself wrong, wanted to prove you were like the rest. But…I never could, because you’re nothing like them.” He paused, attempting to hide the emotion in his voice, not so successfully. “And then it changed into fear of hurting you, and losing you. What if I woke up one morning and you weren’t here?”

Her eyes spoke what words couldn’t, her palm soft against his rough cheek.

“I still don’t understand how you can see me the way you do, and that will never change. I want you to know I will never think myself worthy of you.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he placed his thumb over her lips and continued, “But I can’t fight it anymore. I don’t want to.” He swallowed. “I need you. And though I don’t deserve it…I beg you to let me love you.” She pulled his face against hers. “I’m not proud of the things I’ve said, but…”

“Don’t,” she breathed, still holding the back of his neck.

He chuckled. “You won’t even let me get in a damn apology.”

“Because I know, Henry.”

“You know how much I’m in love with you?” His voice sounded small with emotion, even fear—different than the fear he’d felt in the past.

She nodded, knitting her brow. “Yes. And I love you. That’s all we need.”

Closing his eyes, he fought the stinging behind his lids, and he would never understand. But he would be thankful for it every day for the rest of his life—for her, and that she loved him. “I can’t hide anymore,” he whispered. “But you must know your life is in danger with me.”