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He glanced down at the soft nest of golden curls at the apex of her body, and then back up to her face.
‘Let me,’ he husked, desire beating like a fever in his blood. ‘I’ve wanted you like this for ever.’
She wet her lips and arched involuntarily as his sure fingers moved higher up her softened thighs, bringing her closer to the edge of the settee as he delved between her damp curls.
She was slick and ready, and Tristan lowered his head and devoured her with his lips, his tongue, his fingers. She made the sexiest noises he’d ever heard, and when she came he thought he might too, lapping at her until he had fully sated himself with her taste. Then he rose, and felt like an emperor as he looked down upon her pliant flushed nudity.
His heart lurched, and desperation and need grabbed him by the throat as he quickly divested himself of his clothing and rolled a condom over his now painful erection.
She sat up and reached for him, but Tristan shook his head. He’d wanted to take things slowly this time, and already slow had gone the way of the birds. If she touched him he doubted he’d even make it inside her body.
‘Next time,’ he promised hoarsely, picking her up and carrying her back in front of the fire. ‘I need to be inside you now.’
‘Oh, yes.’ She held her hands out to him, and Tristan settled over her and drove deeply inside her body on one long, powerful thrust. Her body accepted him more easily this time, but still she was tight and he tried to give her a minute to adjust.
Only she didn’t want that and immediately wrapped her legs around his hips. ‘More,’ she pleaded, trying to move under him.
Tristan couldn’t resist the urgent request and drove into her over and over, while he brought them both to a shattering climax that took him to the stars and beyond.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
‘I’LL be back,’ he murmured against her mouth, and Lily flopped back against her pillows as Tristan quietly closed the bedroom door behind him.
She’d almost felt sick earlier, when she’d woken in the early-morning light to find Tristan trying to slip out of her bed without waking her. He’d pulled on his jeans, a frown marring his perfect features, and then he’d noticed her watching him. He’d looked remote, but then his eyes had devoured her and he’d walked over and let his lips follow suit.
‘I’m going to make you a cup of tea,’ he’d whispered, and she’d smiled and trailed her hand down his naked chest.
She didn’t really want tea, just him, but she was glad now of the momentary reprieve as she stared at the ceiling and memories of last night swept blissfully into her consciousness.
Last night he’d told her she drove him crazy, and a slow grin spread across her face as she recalled the tortured way he had gasped her name when he climaxed. She liked the idea of driving him crazy. She liked it a lot. Because she felt the same way. She only had to think of him walking into a room for her hormones to sit up and beg.
Last night he had made love to her in front of the open fire and afterwards carried her to bed, where she had promptly curled against him and fallen into the deepest sleep she’d had since arriving back in the country.
He’d promised her slow, but she had no complaints about their lovemaking. In fact she’d loved it! The urgency, the excitement…the way he’d touched her, cared for her. In fact she loved everything about him.
Lily put her fingers over her face.
She loved him.
Oh, Lord. Did she?
She tested the words out silently in her head. And her heart swelled to bursting.
No. She couldn’t. But she did. Completely and utterly.
And it had been there all along. It was the reason she’d been so nervous about seeing him again. It was the reason she had been so upset when he’d thought she was guilty of carrying drugs into Heathrow. That he’d thought her guilty of being a drug addict.
It was the reason she had been so morose these last few days, and the reason she had allowed herself to be swept away in the library last night. No, had wanted to be swept away—by him.
Lily swallowed, her heart pounding. They had made love so reverently, and she had given everything to him and he had seemed to do the same back.
He’d told her she drove him crazy with desire, and although he hadn’t said he loved her she couldn’t believe he didn’t have any feelings for her.
But even if he did what did that mean?
Nothing. Because he didn’t do love. He’d made that clear enough. And he wouldn’t want her to love him either. Only…what if he felt differe
ntly with her?
