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He felt the tip with a touch so light it was almost a whisper, and he felt her little shudder of disbelief. He moved his tongue, curling the very edge of it around her in a rapid little circular movement which had her groping wildly for his shoulders, tangling her fingers frantically in his hair and crying his name out until he shushed her.
Even before he felt a rush of sweet moistness against his lips he could sense her release, and he held her hips while she began to shudder against his mouth. And then he moved away to take her in his arms, pressing his fingers hard against her while she convulsed around them, and he kissed away her wild cry until—to his astonishment— the cry became real.
And tears, great shimmering tears, began to roll down her cheeks. He felt them mingling with their merged mouths—so many different flavours of her—and heard the choking little noises she made as she tried to recover herself.
He drew back from her, his black eyes hooded—for he never trusted women's tears. They turned them on and off at will, as weapons of manipulation, that was all. As a deterrent they could not have come at a better time, though, for they stilled his own sexual hunger so that he was able to rein it in—a feat of self-control which few other men would have been able to manage under the circumstances.
'You cry? ' he demanded. 'I do not please you? '
It was an absurd question to ask—for surely he must have known that he had? Sorcha felt hopeless—helpless, shaky and insecure, and completely out of her depth—as if he had scraped away the top layer of skin and left her raw and vulnerable, unsure what to do next. She shook her head.
He smoothed her hair away from her damp face and frowned. "What is it? '
That...That... ’
She looked almost shy, he realised. Shy?
What? '
She felt the blush wash upwards from her neck and she opened her eyes, biting her lip. 'It was just...Oh! With your tongue...Well, I mean, I've never... ’
He held her still. Were his ears deceiving him. 'Never?' he demanded shakily. She shook her head.
For a moment Cesare stilled, and then he buried his face in her hair, closing his eyes. It was like music to his ears, though he scarcely dared to believe it. Had she hungered for him so badly over all these years that there had been no other man for her?
He slid his arms around her waist and levered her back up, smoothing her hair and looking into her eyes. 'You're trying to tell me you're a virgin?'
There was a split-second silence, and Sorcha was so tempted to lie. To tell him what
he really wanted to hear—and wouldn't that make it much easier to bear? Then the way that she'd reacted might have been a bit more understandable—if she'd loved and wanted and waited all that time for him to make love to her then who could blame her for what she had just allowed to happen?
But she couldn't lie. Not to Cesare. And certainly not about something as important as that. She knew how highly he rated purity—wasn't it the main reason he had asked her to marry him?
'No, I'm not a virgin’ she said quietly.
Now she had made him into a fool! Or had he only himse
lf to blame for the sudden leap of hope he had felt? As if she wouldn't have had a long line of lovers...not when he knew how instantly she reacted to a man's touch.
His mouth curved. 'Your lovers must not have been good lovers’ he drawled. 'If they did not know how much a woman likes to be eaten.'
'You are disgusting! ' she breathed. 'You weren't saying that a minute ago.'
Distractedly, she tugged at her skirt and straightened her blouse over her swollen breasts. It was like waking up from a dream when she hadn't even realised she'd been asleep.
What the hell would he think of her now?
Yet he had started it—set the ball rolling with that almost punishing kiss. And you let him. Egged him on. Incited him in a way which was almost wanton. Was it any excuse to say that she hadn't been able to stop herself? That once she had felt Cesare's lips on hers it had been like falling down a well straight into paradise?
She ran her tongue over her parched lips. 'That should never have happened’ she said hoarsely.
'Shouldn't it?'
Briefly, she closed her eyes. 'Not at the office!'
Cesare bit back a little murmur of satisfaction. The location had only added to its allure—but it was neither the time nor the place to tell her that her sudden capitulation to his kiss and its subsequent repercussions had been among the most erotic things to happen to him in a lifetime of erotic situations. That piece of knowledge would make her a little too powerful, and he liked to be the one with all the power.
And what was it about her that she should weave such magic over him even now? Because his desire for her had eaten away at him over the years? Or because she was so unexpectedly responsive? He swallowed down the bitter taste of jealousy—for that would not further his cause. He wanted her, and he intended to have her, and angry accusations about the men before him would not help his cause. And why should he feel jealousy over a woman for whom he felt nothing?
