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“That makes two of us.”
She tangled her fingers in his hair and hauled his face over hers.
“Are you going to kiss me now?” she asked.
“You have a preoccupation with being kissed.”
“Only by you.”
No sooner had she uttered the words than their lips met in a heated fury. He plundered her mouth with a hunger that ignited a passion so deep within her that it felt as strange as it felt right. His tongue tangled with hers, and she rose up into him, holding him against her, her hands newly wild. She fought with his robe and his shirt to get to his skin, and he did not help her, feasting on her mouth as though it was all he needed to live.
Until he abandoned her lips and kissed his escape over her jaw.
“More.” She grabbed his head. “I need you to kiss me.”
And this time she feasted hungrily on his mouth, not letting him leave her again. She wanted more and more—and his hand, oh heavens, his hand, jilting her needy breast in favor of her hip, her outer thigh, her inner thigh, and she parted her legs, hardly knowing what she craved, until he pressed against the persistent ache, right where she most needed his touch.
She fell away from him with a cry, struggling for breath, their eyes locked, his fingers stroking.
Stroking. Stoking the fire within her. Like a magician commanding the tides of pleasure.
He brushed his lips over hers. “I’m going to kiss you,” he whispered against her mouth. “As you never imagined being kissed.”
He slid away from her, and she tried to hold him, but he had his own plans, as relentless as those stroking fingers, changing her world. He dragged his hot mouth down her throat, to her breasts, attending to her nipples until she kicked with impossible pleasure. And then—Oh heavens! He slid his fingers inside her. Her senses began to crumble.
“Joshua! You…I…Oh.”
“Hush, sweetheart.” He breathed the words over her skin. “I haven’t finished kissing you yet.”
Unyielding, he burned a trail of kisses down her body, branding her with his warm mouth and soft-rough stubble, and she watched, dazed, as he parted her thighs with demanding hands, positioned himself between them. No, he wouldn’t. Not there, he couldn’t kiss her…
He did.
Pleasure spiraled through her. She arched off the bed. Her head fell back on the pillows. One strong hand pinned down her hips and still she writhed, seeking an escape from these exquisite sensations that must never, ever stop. His tongue was hot and strong and insistent, and his cheeks on her thighs were rough and soft, and her ache intensified, curling and swirling within her. She tried to move but he wouldn’t let her and she wanted it to stop and he wouldn’t stop and she wanted it to go on forever and it did, it did, and then the pressure was too much and bliss rippled over her, all the way to her eyeballs, all the way to her toes. He released her, as she arched and shuddered and cried out.
And even when the sensations had passed, her thudding heartbeat was echoed by a sweet, hot pulse between her legs.
Her breathing had barely steadied when she felt him climbing off the bed. She opened her eyes and smiled at him, waiting for the next part, waiting until he gave her all of him. He stood by the bed, looking at her, and she was not at all shy about her nakedness now. Soon she would have his body too.
“So that’s why,” she said.
“Yes. That’s why.”
His voice was hoarse. She reached for him but he eased away. He swayed toward her, swayed back. He seemed unsure, indecisive. That was odd. He was always so decisive. Even when he knew he was wrong, he was very decisive about it.
His uncertainty infected her. She shivered, though she was not cold.
“Joshua?”
“What?” he snapped.
She recoiled, confused. “I don’t think that was all. We…” She did not have the words to say what she wanted. “That…that won’t make babies.”
“That was enough. I told you I could stop.”
He scooped up her nightshift and tossed it at her. She caught it instinctively and twisted the cool fabric in her hands as the door closed.
A click.
