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‘Nothing,’ she whispered huskily, as she knelt up and moved towards him. ‘Not now.’
He took her in his arms, bringing her closer to him and in one swift movement pulled her to sit astride his legs, her arms around his neck, her breasts level with his face. He watched the soft swell of them moving up and down with each breath, resisting the urge to discard her bra and taste first one nipple then the other.
‘There is no need to be afraid of anything, cara...’ Instantly she tensed in his arms, her legs no longer relaxed and heavy against him. She was still resisting him, still reasoning over her actions when she should just give in to him and enjoy the night for what it was.
‘Being here like this, with just the fire, it’s not something I’ve done before.’ She lowered her lashes, their long length sweeping down to spread over her cheeks. She was still hiding from him.
Gently he lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him. ‘Would you like me to light the candles again?’ He didn’t want to do that. It would expose his scars, his hang-ups and fears. He was damn sure she wouldn’t stay around once she saw the full horror of how badly scarred his legs were. She would be gone. For the first time in three years he was prepared to take the risk and make love to a woman, but that didn’t mean he wanted her to see his scars.
‘No. There’s no need.’ She shook her head slowly and began to relax. He felt her limbs soften and a burst of hot lust shot through him as she leant towards him. His fingers still held her chin and he guided her closer until their lips were almost touching—almost kissing.
‘You look like a goddess in this light.’ His husky whisper shuddered from him as he fought to hold his control, wanting to savour this moment. She was so different from all the women who virtually threw themselves at his feet with alarming regularity.
Tilly needed to be handled with care. She needed him to be gentle and considerate and the idea sent desire hurtling through him. She deserved more than a frantic tumble to satisfy a lust-filled moment but he was past rational thought now.
He felt her breath on his face, her body against his, and knew she wanted to be loved. She deserved to be, but he couldn’t love her, not in that way. He shouldn’t even be kissing her. But he wanted her, needed her, as if only she could breathe life back into his battered body and tortured soul.
‘Right now, I feel like a goddess.’ The gentle purr of her voice pushed his control to the breaking point and he claimed her lips in a hard and demanding kiss. His fingers slid into her hair, gripping it as he focused on keeping her where he wanted her, allowing him to deepen the kiss.
She lifted her head, a ragged gasp rushing from her, and he moved his attentions to the hardened peaks of her nipples, clearly visible through her bra.
‘Dio mio, you are beautiful.’ The throaty rasp of his voice almost broke as she took a deep breath in, her breasts moving closer to him, teasing him so much he began to question just who was in control. Her or him?
Heady lust hurtled through him as he pressed his lips against the creamy swell of one breast, feeling each deep breath she took and the thumping of her heart. His hand cupped the other, his thumb rubbing over her nipple as it strained against the lacy fabric covering it.
‘Xavier.’ The husky whisper of his name snapped that last thread of control and he let go of her hair, reached to the fastening of her bra and snapped it open, freeing each delectable breast for his attention.
Her fingers clutched at his hair as he kissed one nipple, teasing it until she was shuddering with desire, each breath she took as deep and ragged as his. His tongue swirled around it, tasting her.
‘Too much,’ she gasped between increasingly shallow breaths.
‘Too much?’ He pulled back from her and looked up at her flushed face. ‘Should I stop, cara?’
‘Yes. No. I don’t know.’ She sighed and looked down at him and he realised he’d nearly pushed her over the edge. It was as if she was discovering the joy of such pleasures for the first time, and had never sampled the delights of passion. ‘No, don’t. This is on my list.’
He puzzled over the words whispered in a throaty way that left him in no doubt she was losing the battle of resistance. ‘This in on your list?’
‘Yes, but don’t stop.’
Her fingers curled tighter in his hair, pushing him to a new limit, and with gentleness he moved her from him, trying not to acknowledge the pain of having knelt on the floor, and pushed her down against the throw that was spread out over the rug.
