Gasping, she gripped his upper arms as he reached the moist place between her thighs. He pushed slightly with the heel of his hand, the pressure increasing her pleasure and her willingness.
Leaning down closer, his chest against her breasts, he pushed again.
“More,” she gasped, no other word coming to her mind.
He shifted. Moved back. She wondered—
He licked her. There.
Her eyes flew open and she raised her head. But only for a moment, because as he continued to arouse her, she fell back. She bunched the covers in her fist as his sinuous tongue took her to new realms of excitement and desire, until the building tension broke and splintered and scattered.
As she lay panting, she vaguely wondered what happened next. If that was all he intended to do. If she should speak….
He raised himself above her—the powerful, virile lord of Dunkeathe. His breath came in rough rasps as he looked down at her, his disheveled hair about his face and broad shoulders. “Riona, if you want me to stop…”
She shook her head.
“You know where this will lead?” he whispered hoarsely. “Where I want to go?”
She nodded. Her decision had been made when she kissed him in this chamber. “I want you to make love with me, Nicholas. Please.”
Still he didn’t move. “I make no commitment, Riona, no promises.”
“I know.”
“I have spent too many years—”
“Iknow,”she repeated, raising herself to capture his lips with another impassioned kiss.
And she did know. She knew that she was surrendering her virtue. That there could be no regaining of the virginity she was giving him. That he wouldn’t marry her. But if that was the price of a night in his arms, if that was what it would cost to share herself with this man even once, she wouldn’t refuse. If she thought otherwise come the morning, she would deal with it then.
She felt him pressing against her. And then he slowly thrust inside her.
She cried out at the stab of pain.
He stilled. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his lips against her neck. “Should I—?”
“Don’t stop,” she said as her body grew used to him. The sensation of him within her created a new and even more undeniable urging.
With a sigh of willing submission, he thrust again, slowly. The tension—that marvelous, anxious need and what it harbinged—arose within her as he moved again, with a little more force.
And again.
Need overtook her, the fervent wish to experience that wonderful release. She gripped his shoulders as he drove himself inside her yet more forcefully. The pain became a dim memory as her own body responded. Her excitement erased everything but the silent consent to allow the passion to take her where it would.
With him.
Faster he moved, pushing deeper and harder. His breath came in hoarse rasps. She held tight to him, delighting in his potent strength, the sheer power of his body, the way he made her feel. Holding his shoulders, his arms, she arched and bucked, moving without thought or plan, guided by the insistent urging of her own flesh, until the time of exquisite release. She groaned low in her throat as the waves of pleasure poured through her body.
But that was not the end, not until the cords of his neck grew taut as harp strings and with a rough cry, he gave one more powerful thrust and joined her in ecstasy.
Panting and sated, he rested upon her as she held him close.
How long they lay together, Riona didn’t know, but eventually, through the haze of sleepy, satiated pleasure, she realized that she couldn’t stay. “Nicholas? My lord?”
“Hmm?” he murmured, more than half-asleep.
“I have to go.”
