Page 74 of Impetuous

They rushed down the garden path and across the wooden walkway to the gazebo, which sat a few feet out into the pond. Philip turned and pulled her to him, kissing her passionately. Her senses were all sizzlingly alive, and the taste and heat of him mingled with the faint sounds of the water lapping around the piers of the gazebo and the night birds calling, and with the caress of the breeze on her overheated skin.

His fingers went to the buttons of her dress, undoing them as they kissed. He parted from her only long enough to peel down the bodice, exposing her chest, covered only by a thin white chemise. Slowly, almost reverently, Philip slipped down the straps of the chemise until they dangled loosely around her elbows. He tugged at the ties of the ribbon threaded through the neck, undoing the bow, and the material sagged open. Hooking his fingers in the top of the undergarment, he dragged it down over her breasts, brushing her sensitive nipples with the backs of his fingers.

Her lush breasts were exposed to his gaze, her nipples large and dark, pebbling with desire. He gazed at her for a long moment, his breath coming faster in his throat. Then he cupped her breasts in his hands, gently squeezing, and stroked his thumbs across the hard buds. They tightened eagerly as desire darted straight down through her and blossomed into heat between her legs.

“I’ve wanted this for weeks. Since I first met you.” His voice was low and roughened by desire. As he talked, he continued to caress her nipples, watching their response with delight. “The past few days have been sheer hell, wanting you and trying so damn hard not to kiss you, touch you. Cassandra, you don’t know what you do to me.”

“I know what you do to me,” she replied, reaching out and beginning methodically on the buttons of his shirt, as he had with her. He drew in his breath and moved closer to give her free access.

His eyes drifted closed as she unbuttoned his shirt, his face stark with hunger. He stiffened when she slid her hands beneath the material, spreading them flat on his chest. Cassandra moved her hands apart, shoving the two sides of the shirt away, caressing his heated skin. The hair of his chest was prickly beneath her palms, his flesh smooth and hard. She found the flat buds of his nipples, and he let out a soft groan. She explored his chest thoroughly, caressing the ridges of bone and muscle, twining through the hairs, and gently tweaking the flat masculine nipples until his chest was rising and falling in rapid pants.

He tore off his shirt and threw it to the floor, then pulled her against him for a long, thorough kiss. Her breasts were flattened against his chest, the eager buds pressing titillatingly into his flesh, and the hard ridge of his desire pulsed against her abdomen. It seemed as if she were melting into a throbbing, aching mass of desire. She wanted to feel him against her, naked, all the way up and down. She wanted to feel him inside her.

The thought startled her, but she knew that that was exactly what the raw, hot, liquefying sensation between her legs meant—she ached to have him in her. She pulled away from Philip, and he gaped at her blankly for a moment before he realized that she was unbuttoning her skirt. He watched hungrily as she slipped out of her skirt and began to work on her voluminous petticoats.

Philip began to remove the rest of his clothes, an easier task than Cassandra’s, all the while watching as she revealed more and more of her shapely hips and legs. Finally, with a grunt of frustration, she shoved down the cotton pantalets that were her last garment, and they joined the frothy pool of petticoats at her feet.

Cassandra glanced up at him for the first time then, embarrassment at her nakedness mingling with an unexpected pride and pleasure at having him look at her this way. The reality of his own nakedness was a jolt. He looked so powerful and male that it was almost frightening, yet at the same time the sight of his naked body started an intense heat in the very center of her. Her heart knocked against her ribs as she stood there, watching him and waiting.

The heat in his eyes almost melted her. He put his hands on her shoulders, and slowly, almost methodically, he moved down her body, sliding over her breasts and onto her stomach. His hands parted to glide down her hips to her thighs and back up, then over her abdomen until his fingers touched the pale thatch of curls between her legs. Everywhere his hands explored, his eyes followed, his arousal heightened by the sight of his hands upon her body. He moved behind her and caressed her back and buttocks in the same way, gently and thoroughly.

He dropped a kiss upon her shoulder, then made his way along her collarbone and up the side of her neck, his warm velvety lips sending shivers throughout her body. His hands stole around her and caressed her breasts and stomach as he nuzzled her neck and shoulders. One hand slid downward, crossing her navel and skimming over the flat plane of her abdomen. But this time he did not stop at the thatch of hair, but continued, delving into the damp heat between her legs.

Cassandra’s knees trembled, and she was afraid they might give way beneath her. It made her blush to have him touch her there. At the same time, the excitement was so intense that she wasn’t sure how she could stand it. He slid over the slick folds of flesh, his questing fingers separating and stroking. She gasped as he found the hot bud of flesh between her nether lips and gently began to tease it. She tensed automatically, moving back a little and going up on her toes, but he simply wrapped one arm around her waist, holding her up and hard against him, so that she felt the insistent pulsing of his manhood against her bottom while the other hand moved with her, continuing to caress her intimately.

Cassandra let out a little choked sigh, and her head lolled back against his chest. The way he held her, she could reach nothing of him except his thighs and the sides of his hips and waist, but she made do with that, stroking the outer sides of his thighs and reaching back around to the firm rounded cheeks of his buttocks. She heard his muffled groan, and his hand stilled on her for an instant. He began to kiss her ear, his tongue and teeth teasing her earlobe while his hand stroked her rhythmically.

Her heart was pounding, her breath rasping in her throat. She could hear whimpering noises arising from her which she was powerless to stop. She felt caught in a maelstrom of sensation, unable to distinguish among the wild, whirling pleasures that stormed her body.

Philip moved to her other ear, then began nipping little heated kisses down her back. His hand left her, and she almost sobbed at the loss, but he curved it over her buttocks, squeezing and caressing her, then once more sliding between her legs, but from the back this time, startling a little squeak of pleasure from her. Something hot and foreign to her seemed to be building in her. It was so powerful it almost frightened her, yet she wanted to rush straight into it. She moved her hips unconsciously.

Her untutored response almost unmanned him. Philip groaned and paused for a moment, leaning his head against hers and fighting for control. Then he turned her around almost roughly, pulling her to him, and began to kiss her mouth hungrily. Cassandra kissed him back with equal fervor, running her hands over his back and sides, discovering how exciting it was to feel the textures of his flesh. She moved her hands between their heated bodies and slid them tentatively down his ridged chest and stomach onto the softer flesh of his abdomen. With a boldness that surprised her, her fingers inched down until they closed upon the satin hardness of his manhood.

Philip jerked and made a noise deep in his throat, and Cassandra hesitated, pulling her hand away, thinking that perhaps she had done something wrong. But his hand went to hers, nudging it back to the stiff shaft. Her fingers closed gently around him, exploring.

At last he raised his head and bent, picking her up in his arms. He carried her to one of the long cushioned seats that ran along either side of the gazebo and laid her down on it. He hesitated for an instant, looking down at her.

“Are you sure you want this?” he rasped.

For an answer, Cassandra opened up her arms to him. A look of satisfaction crossed his features, and he lay down, positioning himself between her legs. It was not a wide seat, but there was room enough for them, and they did not notice any discomfort. His manhood probed the gate of her femininity, and Cassandra stiffened a little, but he kissed her until she relaxed. Slowly, he began to push up into her. Cassandra was aware of pressure, then pain, and she thought that somehow this was not working right, but then, with a single slash of pain, he thrust into her.

She gasped, but she was not sure if it was at the brief discomfort or at the new and delicious feeling of his filling her. He was sinking deep into her, stretching her past anything she would ever have thought possible, but it did not hurt. Rather, it was intensely satisfying, as if something missing all her life had been replaced. She wrapped her arms around him, luxuriating in the sensation. He began to stroke within her, pulling back and thrusting in again, moving with a slow rhythm, and with every stroke he built the fires of their passion. Finally he began to move more quickly, and the excitement that had been growing and spiraling inside Cassandra whirled ever faster. Suddenly the desire exploded within her like a fiery sun, shaking her to her core. She cried out, lost in the storm of pleasure. She felt Philip surging against her, then heard his hoarse cry as he shuddered and collapsed upon her.

Slowly the world came back together, and Cassandra was aware once again of who and where she was. Philip released a soft sigh and rolled over onto his back, pulling her up on top of him. He cradled her in his arms, and she rested her head on his chest, listening to the loud and furious thump of his heart, gradually slowing down to a strong, steady beat.

She had never felt such peace, such lassitude. Here, in his arms, she felt as if she were home.

* * *

CASSANDRA AWAKENED RELUCTANTLY, pulled from her sleep by a shaft of sunlight that poured in through the crack in the curtains and fell directly across her face. Groaning, she rolled away from it, burying her head in her pillow, but sleep eluded her. With a sigh, she turned onto her back and lay staring up at the tester above her head, her mind filled with memories of the night before.

They had not lain together in the summerhouse long. Philip had shaken them from their dreamy, languorous state, saying that they had to get back to the house soon. It would never do for her aunt or someone else to find her missing from her room and go looking for her. For her part, Cassandra was too wrapped up in contentment to feel much concern for her reputation, but she did as Philip asked, dressing with as much speed as she could muster and walking back up to the gardens with him. She had gone into the house first, slipping through the conservatory and up the back stairs to her room, thankfully meeting no one on the way. She had fallen into bed and gone immediately to sleep. Now was the first time that she had really reflected on what had happened.

Her lips curved up into an involuntary smile as she remembered their lovemaking in the gazebo. She loved Philip. She had known that for sure last night as they had hurried off down to the summerhouse. She had been fully aware of what she was doing and of the consequences. Had she been uncertain of her feelings for Philip, she would have held back. But her heart had been as sure of what she wanted as her body.

She knew that marriage would not be the result of their tryst. Her aunt was no doubt right about that: men like Sir Philip Neville did not marry penniless girls. But that had not mattered. All that had mattered was the fact that she loved him and wanted to be with him.

She was, she supposed, a fallen woman now. If anyone found out about last night, her reputation would be in tatters. A virtuous woman, she reflected, would probably be consumed by remorse this morning. Cassandra realized that she felt none, only a wonderful joy that made her feel light as air.