So caught up in both his own climax and the fact that she soon tumbled after, her cries in his ears and her body shuddering against him, that Thomas missed that her tears were from anything but pleasure. After all, the first time they had been together, moisture had been in her eyes and on her cheeks when they lay panting afterwards. Something different had been in the moment of eye contact, but he had been too far gone to really decipher it.
Savannah buried her face against him, and his hands lazily stroked over her bare back, over the skin touched with the sheen of sweat. Drops of moisture dropped onto his shoulder, and his hands momentarily stilled, wondering if she was, “Hurt?” As in, had he hurt her. He had not thought so, but the tears did not exactly seem like the same tinged with joy ones she had shed before.
His hands moved again, “Savannah, are you okay?” The aftermath of his own orgasm lay heavily upon him, and the fact that he was once again lying close to her and finding something more than comfort and pleasure in her proximity and touch. Something unnamed and unacknowledged.