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This time he was the one shrugging. “I want us to celebrate properly. Is that so bad?”
“You came over here with the intention of doing just that.” She accused.
Rising, he came around, without letting go of her hands.
“I smiled when you told me the news.” His fingers linked with hers as he pulled her forward and settled between her thighs. “I’m not leaving you tonight.”
“I have nothing to say about any of this?”
“I’m listening.” Letting go of her hands, he cupped her face between his palms.
“Stop looking at me like that?” She whispered huskily. She really should boot him out, spend the time assessing her emotions and what he’d revealed. He was doing something to her stomach to make it quivery.
“Like what?”
“Oh, hell.’ Blowing out a breath, she pulled his head down to hers.
Chapter 7
The lovemaking was slow and intense. It was as if he wanted to impress upon her the importance of the moment. They were celebrating life, he was celebrating love, one that had been a part of him since he was a child and had blossomed into something so intense that he was having a hard time not overwhelming her with it.
It was certainly overwhelming him. His hands played over the slender curves like a skilled violin, drawing out her reluctant responses.
A sigh turned into a moan. Quivers became tremors and whispers shivered along the skin. He murmured into her ear as his mouth took over from his hands. He found erogenous spots, weak spots and ruthlessly exploited them, turning her into a puddle. The texture of her skin, the taste of her, made him want to savor and linger.
Her impatience to have him inside her was ignored as he continued the torture, the sweet torment that had her breath catching. Her fingers searched for him, as she tried to pull him up against her, inside her, but he evaded as he continued to kiss her stomach. Where he lingered, the emotions washing over him like a flood.
His seed was planted, embedded inside her womb, where eventually it would form a life. One he was going to cherish. He realized that the time had come. He had to be inside her, to water her womb with his seed to wash away the bitterness of his upbringing.
With that in mind, he covered her body with his, sliding into the wetness of her, the tightness enveloping like a welcome and well-worn glove. Her face was flushed with passion, eyes shining like molten gold.
Her lush bottom lip quivered with the need for him. If she wasn’t in love with him, she was getting there.
"Brady." Her cultured voice was a whisper, hands going around his neck to bring him down to her. They were joined together, bonded. "Brady."
"Tell me." He urged.
"I can't.' Her fingers dug into his skin and then soothed.
"Show me." Bending his head, he took her lips and allowed her to lead. The kiss was fire and heat, scorching them with flames that played over them, inside them, consuming and destroying them. The lovemaking started out slow and turned frantic as skin met skin.
They came together, the climax so powerful it had them clinging to each other, their bodies trembling from the aftermath. He held her against him, ending the kiss just to dip his head into the softness of her neck as he struggled to control his harsh breathing. His body was still trembling, the aftershocks making him weak.
Never in his life had he experienced anything like this. In the past, he’d used sex to forget, to lose himself, the way he’d done with his painting. To forget, to seek some sort of comfort from the coldness he’d left at home.
To his surprise and gratitude, she didn’t push him away the way she usually did, but kept her arms around his neck. He was the one who made the first move, sliding off her and gathering her into his arms.
"Hungry?" He whispered against the thick dark curls.
"Starving." She admitted with a laugh.
"We didn’t finish the meal."
"We were too busy arguing." She agreed. "We do that a lot."
"Perhaps we enjoy the battle."
"Perhaps. It might be the fact you’re annoying and entitled."
