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He was touching her in such a way she couldn't think, touching her in a way that made her breath fast and shallow. His fingers played against her, played her and she felt almost helpless in his hands. "Oh, I care about the person I'm with," she murmured, feeling so much love just then.
"Good, then you can relax."
His touch was even more intimate now, his fingers slipping inside her. Winnie's thighs tensed and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her lips parting against the base of his throat. She'd imagined having sex but never imagined anything as seductive as this.
His fingers inside her made her ache for more of this, more of him. She writhed and he stroked her slowly, deeply and the pleasure was so intense she felt close to tears.
"Beach," she choked, practically grinding her hips against him. "Let's ... go ... to beach."
He carried her up in his arms and she was totally without inhibitions now. It seemed right to be naked and hot and craving each other.
On the beach they discovered a blanket, a stack of towels and two terry-cloth robes. Their scattered clothes had been discreetly removed.
"Mr. Foley," Morgan muttered, shaking his head.
"He's very attentive," Winnie said, smiling a little, fighting the nervous urge to giggle.
"Another sign that Mr. Foley likes you." Morgan lowered her down to the quilted blanket. "He's good with details, but this is a first."
The blanket felt warm, the sand was soft and inviting.
Winnie felt comfortable and deliciously languid. "I think like is too strong of a word."
He knelt next to her. "He was certainly concerned when I returned from the wedding without you."
She was about to answer when he ran a hand up the inside of her thigh, his hand returning to her inner heat. She closed her eyes, sucked in air, and thought she must be a hedonist because she'd never felt anything half so good and couldn't imagine anything ever feeling better.
Morgan shifted, parted her knees wider, lowered his body between. Before she fully understood what he intended to do, his mouth replaced his hand, his tongue substituting for his fingers.
Winnie gripped the blanket, squeezed the quilted cotton in her fists to keep from crying out loud. The intense sensation overwhelmed her. Okay, she thought, trying to catch her breath, this felt even better than the other.
He was doing something with his hand and his mouth, creating a pattern of feeling, a rhythm within her. She tried to make sense of the tightness coiling in her middle, her belly clenching, her legs beginning to tremble.
Without changing position, without shifting focus or losing tempo, Morgan placed a palm on her tummy just above her pubic bone. The pressure of his hand coupled with the rhythm of his tongue was quickly building tension, layering sensation on top of sensation like children’s blocks stacking all the way up, past the coconut trees to the starlit sky itself.
"But wait," she said, her voice raspy in the night, "I want you with me."
He kissed the inside of her thigh. "I'm with you."
"But I want it different for my first time, I want you."
"You might not be able to come. It can be hard for women-"
"I don't care. It doesn't matter." She reached down, ran her hand across his upper back, his muscles so beautifully hard, his skin silky smooth. ''I'd rather feel you inside me .. .if that's okay with you."
He didn't say anything. He didn't have to say anything. Morgan shifted, braced himself on his elbows, stretching out over her.
With his knees he pressed her legs up and wide. His body touched hers. She could feel the tip of him and she sighed. Morgan caught her hands in his, and even as he lifted her arms up, over her head, he thrust smoothly into her.
Winnie sighed, tightening around him. His hands pressed against hers. He thrust harder, now a little deeper, then briefly stopped. "Are you okay?" he asked, buried all the way in her.
She couldn't help smiling. Okay? She felt perfect, fantastic. " Yes, oh, yes."
But he was still concerned. "I don't want to hurt you."
"You're not, you couldn't, you feel wonderful. Besides, I was ready for you."
She felt him smile against her neck, then he kissed her most tenderly on the sensitive place near her ear. "I have to agree with you on that."
What followed was without time, without definition, without words. He was with her, so completely with her that she no longer knew him from her. He touched her and moved with her so that it felt as if they were part of the air, the earth, the sky. Beautiful, Winnie thought, I feel really truly beautiful.
She gave in to him and the rightness of being together. She gave in to the warmth, the touch, the exquisite pleasure. It was thrilling being so close, healing, too. The energy was intense, the heat formidable. To be held like this, touched like this, loved like this.
Loved.
Morgan rolled over, drawing Winnie on top of him.
She felt naked for a moment, and stiffened. But Morgan caressed her breast and drew her head down and kissed her. "Don't stop moving," he whispered, lips brushing hers. "You'll like this, I promise."
She wasn't sure, and she felt a little awkward but Morgan clasped her hips and shifted her a little and suddenly it all made sense. The heat was back, the tension building. The self-consciousness receded, the strangeness disappeared. She was his again. He was hers. They were together, neither was distinct, and as she moved against him light flashed against her closed eyes. Hot liquid sun, hot summer sun, red hot, so hot, and Morgan held her tighter, moved her faster. Winnie didn't think she could stand it, the tension growing, her muscles clenching, but he wouldn't let her escape.
"Morgan-" she choked, the heat so great, her skin so hot, beads of moisture forming everywhere.
He rose up to meet her, driving hard, fierce, and she couldn't contain it any longer, couldn't control it and with a cry she felt launched into the sun. Waves of light and heat rolled through her, waves of light and heat and pleasure until she shuddered from head to toe.
"I can't hold on much longer," he said, voice hoarse, muscles knotted hard.
"Then don't."
He lifted her off him, drew her down to his side.
Groaning, he held her as he came.
Winnie waited a moment before gently touching his face. "You didn't have to pull out."
He leaned on his elbow and looked down at her, his expression gentle, rueful. He pushed back a damp lock of hair from her forehead and kissed her warm brow. "Yes I did. I really wanted to be in you, but it wouldn't be fair. I'm not about to trap you into marriage."
She stared up at him, into his eyes. His black lashes were so thick they cast shadows on his face. "You've changed your mind about marrying me?"
He pulled her back on top of him, slid a hand up the length of her back. "Not at all, sweetheart, but I think you need to live a little first."
His lips were creating havoc on her skin. His hands were tracing the shape of her spine. Her body was stirring to life again. How could he still make her feel so much? Want so much?
"Live a little?" she gasped as he drew her nipple in his mouth. The warm wet feel of his mouth, the pointed flick of his tongue was driving her crazy, making her need and want and ache. Her breast ached. Between her legs ached. She was dying to feel him inside her again.
"Live," he said, his breath fanning her wet breast.
"Experiment. Do all the things you've always dreamed of doing."
"I think ... I think ... " she said, voice breathy, faint, as he flipped her over onto her back and parted her knees with his own.
He smoothed the hair back from her face and trailed his hand from her breast to her belly and back to her breast again, his touch light, tantalizing, maddening. "Yes?"
"I think I
'm ... " She exhaled as he entered her again, his body so hard, his tension barely leashed. " ... doing them."
And it was, she thought, as he filled her body, and filled her heart, the most beautiful experience she'd ever known. The reality of making love to Morgan was far better than anything in her wildest imagination.
CHAPTER TEN
LATER they put the robes to good use, wrapped themselves in the plush terry-cloth, and walked back to the house.
