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‘Would you like me to ease it for you?’
‘That would be nice,’ she said breathlessly.
He sat her on the edge of the bed and knelt at her feet, applying delicate pressure on her knees to part them and, moving boldly into the space he had created, began unlacing her with a deliberately tormenting slowness, holding the two edges of the teddy together as he removed the ties from their lace eyelets.
‘Now...let’s see if I can relieve that painful discomfort,’ he murmured thickly, slowly peeling the bodice away, tugging it roughly apart at the last to burst the snaps that fastened the narrow band of silk between her legs. The sharp, satiny friction made her gasp and to her shock he touched her lightly there, a teasing stroke of a finger against her parted softness. She moaned.
‘Did I hurt you?’
She shook her head mutely, her mouth too dry to talk.
‘There, does that feel better now that there’s nothing here to bind you?’ He traced the faint impression of a seam down her side. She seemed to quiver all over, her softly rounded nudity acutely receptive to the sight and scent of his aroused masculinity. She was utterly his, and he knew it.
She licked her lips. ‘A...little.’
A carnal expression of satisfaction burned in his eyes at the sound of her husky challenge. ‘Only a little? Then let me see if I can do a lot better...’
He groaned, but not with effort, as he lifted her with easy strength to lay her flat on the bed, her bent knee brushing his rigidly swaying length as he moved over her, settling between her restless legs.
Her hands reached for his lean male hips but he drew them away. ‘No, not yet, darling, I want you readier for me than this...and if you touch me now I’ll explode. Here...hold on, darling—promise you’ll hold on tight for me...’
He wrapped his big hands around hers and lifted them to the vertical bars of the bedstead, curling her fingers around the thin cylinders of cold brass and holding them there so that her arms were outstretched over her head, her torso lightly arched over the thick, soft pillow under her shoulders as he bent to his self-appointed task.
‘No, don’t let go,’ he growled, long, agonising minutes later as he slid further down her perspiration-slicked body, and Honor’s hands clenched violently on the brass as she felt his first, delicate, exploring touch.
‘That’s right, arch your body, move with me, but whatever you do, darling, don’t let go!’
‘Adam—!’ The cry was wrenched from the depths of her bewilderment.
‘No, let me do this...let me be selfish...I want to see it happen to you first before I take you. I want you to be as sweet and ripe inside as you are here, and here...and here...’
Honor needed her cold brass anchor to reality as her whole world splintered and formed and reformed around her, around the slow, languid, flicker and lash of his tongue and the hot, hazy pooling of pleasure created in the dips and hollows of her body by his big, capable hands. The slow, thick pulsation of her heart moved from her chest to the place between her parted thighs, where all sensation began and ended...with Adam.
Suddenly Honor cried out, her whole body contracting, her hips lifting from the bed in a violent series of wrenching convulsions as she was cast into a turbulent new realm of experience. At the instant the first paroxysm hit Adam cried out her name in a savage shout of triumphant exhilaration and reared up, coming down with a powerfully driving thrust that obliterated her last conscious thought, stretching and filling her, lifting and plunging again and again as he rode her to an ecstatic completion. His own culmination was just as turbulent and violently fulfilling and seemed to go on forever.
And afterwards, a long time afterwards, when light was streaming i
n through the chinks in the curtains, and he had made love to her twice more—each time urging her to more reckless heights of passion—he grimly asked the question that had hovered silently in the air above their heads since the first moment of his possession.
‘Why the hell didn’t you warn me I was going to be your first lover?’
CHAPTER TEN
IT WAS strange how much more a tone could convey the words themselves, thought Honor, hideously graunching the VW’s new gears as she changed down in order to lurch up another winding hill.
If Adam had held her in his arms and asked his all-important question with tender curiosity she wouldn’t be driving home now, making the reckless flight that she had contemplated last night—for very different reasons.
But he hadn’t. He had rolled away from her on to his back, spoken with a brusqueness that verged on anger, edged with something that sounded chillingly like regret. And, too, he had used ‘warn’ rather than ‘tell’. To warn someone was usually to notify them of possible danger ahead. What possible danger could her innocence have been to Adam? How could something that had seemed so beautifully right turn out to be so ugly and wrong?
‘Why the hell didn’t you warn me I was going to be your first lover?’
Honor had reached down to pull a corner of the rumpled quilt across her body, suddenly embarrassed by her wanton sprawl.
‘I said I had chances, not that I ever took them,’ she replied quietly.
‘A virgin. At your age!’ he muttered in brooding disbelief tinged with...was it contempt? No, that was too strong, it was more like angry disappointment.
Oh, God—he was disappointed!
