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‘Benneit, don’t stop...’
‘Hush,’ he breathed against her ear, his lips a heated slide against it, sending ripples over her nerves like warm water. ‘Slowly. Let me touch you. I need to feel all of you.’
The words touched her, reached inside her, a strange dark promise and demand. He kissed the lobe of her ear, a light brush of skin on skin, but it made her shoulder rise involuntarily and he kissed that as well, moving slowly towards her neck, lingering on the silky skin below her ear, so gently it felt like the caress of a breeze. Then, just as gently, he touched his tongue to her earlobe, closed his teeth on it and suckled.
A dam of liquid heat burst inside her, her palms flattening on his chest, ready to push away, but instead they pulled him towards her, as she angled her head to capture every nip and sweep of his mouth as he unravelled her. But he didn’t match her urgency—his hands caressed her back, drawing her deeper into the slow, swaying rhythm of his mouth as he continued to explore. It was a sweeping possession, like the furling and unfurling of the waves in the south bay, but underneath was all the raging fierceness of the sea that had nearly destroyed them and it was terrifying and exhilarating. He swept her into his rhythm, into the scorching sweep of his mouth and tongue on her body, breaking her into elements, finding places that had never meant anything to her before this moment, but now made her shudder and cling, whimpering for something she knew he held, but withheld.
‘I’ve found your rose, an Autumn Damask, right here.’ He breathed in, the air cool on the skin at the base of her neck. She shivered and he guided her arm around his neck so he could bring her closer, moulding her body against his with a shuddering sigh of satisfaction, as if this was what he wanted, just this meeting of bodies.
For a moment he held her there, only their breathing shifting their bodies against each other, but it was not a peaceful embrace. The silence and the stillness was merely a stage for the swirling heat that had caught them on the cliff path and in the dance—it was there, still raging, gathering force. When he spoke, his voice measured but harsh, she knew he felt the same.
‘I should leave, but I can’t. Not if it is left to me. You will have to say the words, Jo. Choose.’
She didn’t want that burden, she wanted him to shoulder it. But there was enough of her own conscience still alive to recognise he was trying to show her some respect. Because he could offer no more than this. She would have to choose.
‘I need you here tonight, Benneit. Please stay with me.’
The words unleashed the fierceness he had shackled so firmly, his hands pulling her hard against him. His mouth was no longer soft and coaxing—it slanted over hers, taking her fully, his tongue teasing and touching places that made her body clench halfway to release before a single layer of clothing was removed. She wanted him to hurry, to slow down, to combust and take her with him... She was cold and hot and everywhere at the mercy of his hands as they explored her body, tightening impatiently on her buttocks as he raised her against him to deepen the kiss, his tongue tracing hers, suckling and tasting, and everything poured through her to lash at the burning, dampening flesh between her legs, turning her skin to liquid warmth until she was shaking, about to crest the waves.
She felt everything, but hardly noticed as her dress and stays fell away, followed by the heavy folds of his kilt. She only realised she was half-naked when the backs of her legs met the coolness of the bed. He leaned her back until she lay there, with him standing between her legs. He pulled off his shirt, holding it in his hands as he looked down at her and her legs tried to close but only managed to press against his as he stood there. His thighs felt like rock against the inside of her knees. As hard and warm as the Devil’s Seat in the sun. He tucked his hand under her knees, raising them so that her feet were braced on the edge of the bed, then shocked her by brushing a light kiss on her thigh, even as his hand curled under it, his fingers caressing the soft skin, slowly moulding and kneading as he slid the edge of her chemise upwards, his mouth trailing in its wake, a whisper following a whisper.
The fire was behind him, gilding him with a garish halo and leaving his face in darkness, but between soft, feathering brushes of his mouth along her leg his eyes rose to meet hers with an obsidian glint like those of a panther.
