Then he was liberating the fastenings of her frock, and she was soon stepping out of it. He grinned. “I knew you didn’t bother with petticoats.”
“They’re a hindrance in a fight.”
“And in lovemaking.”
Her heart jumped about in her chest. She’d expected him to use a crude word to describe what they were doing, a word she’d always associatedwith the act because she’d never given her heart to any man and so how could it be lovemaking? And yet, she feared she might be losing her suddenly rebellious heart to him. It would hurt when he left, but now wasn’t the time to ponder that or to consider how the pain of his parting would be worth the price of having known him fully.
Reaching out, she stroked the bulge of his trousers. He groaned low, almost as though he were in pain. Another stroke before cupping him. “I think I’m going to find you quite impressive.”
Moving away from her, he sat on the edge of the bed and tugged off his boots, followed by his stockings. Coming to his feet, he unfastened his trousers and shucked them. Oh, yes. Her mouth went dry.
Tenderly cupping her chin, he tilted her face up until he could meet and hold her gaze. “Because of your surgery will I hurt you?”
She shook her head. The first few times she’d experienced discomfort until eventually she didn’t. However, none of her partners had been as striking as Marcus was. “I don’t think so.”
“You’re to stop me if I do.”
She nodded, but the movement was a lie. She wanted him buried to the hilt, inside of her as deeply as possible, stretching and filling her.
He trailed a finger along her throat, over her collarbone to her cleavage, and down to her corset. Making short work of releasing the hooks, he was soon tossing it aside. Her shoes and the remainder of her undergarments followed suit.
His gaze, like fire raging, slowly traveled over her. She knew the moment his eyes landed on the scar that ran the length of her abdomen. When he would have touched it, she took hold of his hand and brought it to her breast. “I don’t feel anything there, but I do here.”
With a nod, he reclaimed her mouth with the same powerful urgency he had before and his fingers kneaded the pliant orb, pinching her nipple, then soothing it. Suddenly, his arms clamped her to him, and he tumbled them onto the bed.
He noticed the scars. Every damned one of them. The one on her thigh, the one that would form on her breast. A small one on her upper arm she’d not told him about. The one above the mound of dark springy hair between her legs. The one that had robbed her of so much, that had put her on a path that led her into his arms. He believed in neither fate nor destiny, and yet without the scars, inside and out, that they both carried, they wouldn’t be here, side by side, facing each other, flesh against flesh, mouths devouring, sighs and groans echoing around them, heat building to a combustible level.
She didn’t hesitate to wrap her hand boldly around his cock and stroke with such purpose that he very nearly spilled his seed then and there.
“I could do this all night,” she said in a throaty purr.
He stilled her actions. “I won’t last a minute. I’ve not had a woman since . . . the damned picnicwith a hamper that summer last year.” He licked along her throat. “But it’s more than the drought of lovers. It’s you.” He journeyed up to her throat, nibbled on her lobe, relished her sweet moan. “It’s all you. Every aspect of you, inside and out, causes me to burn with want, with need.”
He dotted kisses over her shoulder, down to her breasts where he liberally peppered them. She hadn’t released her hold on him, and he felt her fingers tighten around him. He almost groaned from the pleasure of it. “Even if I had lain with a woman last night, still, tonight, you would ignite my passions.”
“I haven’t been with a man in a good long while. I know men prefer their women innocent and virginal.”
He lifted his head. “I find no fault with you for taking lovers.”
“To do so is a sin.”
“So we’ll enjoy hell together.” And he reclaimed her mouth.
He was wrong there. She’d never felt as close to heaven as she did at that moment, in his arms while they did deliciously wicked things to each other, stroking, kissing, nibbling, licking. She was on fire, but it generated the sort of flames that created, not destroyed. Glorious sensations. Her nerve endings danced and flickered. Her toes, nay, her entire body, wanted to furl in on itself even as it stretched along the length of his body.
He urged her onto her back and nestled himself between her thighs. With her fingers, she outlined the contours of his magnificent chest and shoulders as he reached down and positioned himself before pushing into her. Her body welcomed him, adjusted to his length and breadth. Lord, but it felt good, wonderful to have him seated firmly inside her. When he started rocking against her, the glorious sensations began to build, coursing through her body, in undulating waves like the sea greeting the shore, increasing in intensity.
Raised on his arms, he hovered above her, his beautiful blue eyes locked on hers. He withdrew, pushed forward, the powerful thrusts increasing in momentum, in force. He was magnificent in his concentration, his jaw tightened, his gaze focused as though he were memorizing every line and curve of her features. She could sense the tension in him increasing, his breaths becoming sharper, shorter. Never had a man lasted so long, moved with such determination, such exactitude, such purpose... not for him. For her.
She who never wept nearly did. Tenderly she cradled his face. “Don’t wait on me. It feels wonderful. It’s incredible. But this is as far as I go.”
“Pardon?” He didn’t stop his actions, but the movements were less frantic.
“I’ve reached the summit, but I can never . . .” She knew there was more. Occasionally she’d brought herself to climax, but it had never happened with a man. Although she’d often pretended. But she couldn’t with him. With him, forsome reason, she had to be honest. “I can’t fly off the pinnacle. But you should go ahead—”
“Bugger that.”
Suddenly, he was gone, no longer inside her, kissing his way down the length of her torso, spreading her thighs farther apart until he reached the heart of her womanhood and kissed there. No, it was more than a kiss. It was a feasting. His tongue stroking, lapping, circling.
