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The palm of his hand slipped under the ruched silk and flattened against her back. Slowly he eased them both upright until Elsbeth sat facing him, trembling, the whooshing in her head a hot roar.
Fingers dragged through her hair, hooded green eyes seeming to drink her in. He leaned in closer. Her breath caught in her throat and her eyes closed as his lips pressed against hers, as fleeting as the touch of a feather, his hands slowly moving down from the back of her head to her shoulders and down her sides to where her nightdress was gathered.
Pulling his face back, his eyes locked back onto hers and then, bit by bit, her nightdress was pushed over her belly and breasts. She lifted her arms. Silk fleetingly caressed her neck and face and then, for the first time in her life, Elsbeth was naked in front of a man, shaking, her heart beating so hard he must be able to see its ripples through her chest.
A finger gently lifted her chin.
She’d never been so scared of what she would find in Amadeo’s gaze, terrified too of what she was feeling, how deeply her desire for him ran, trapped in every cell in every part of her body.
She forced herself to look at him. The dim glow of the bedside light cast his face in the shadows and plains that turned his features from mere drop-dead handsome to heart-breaking, and Elsbeth fought even harder to keep the essence of herself intact and not fall into the heady promise of the lie in his eyes, however desperately she wanted to believe the hunger she was reading in them was for her.
This was what her mother had warned her about, the day when a man’s ardour was stronger than normal.
When it was over, she would still sleep alone.
He palmed the flat of her back again and, with the same care as when he’d pulled her upright, lowered her back down so her head rested on her pillow. Then, with infinite care, he laid himself between her legs, elbows resting either side of her head, cocooning her with his body and the sheets he’d pulled up to his shoulders.
It was the romantic scene she’d longed for on her wedding night.
The weight of his erection brushed against the top of her thigh. The tips of her sensitised breasts brushed against his chest. Heaven help her, she had to make fists with her hands to temper herself against the craving to crush herself tightly against him.
For the longest time he said nothing, just gazed at her, his fingers smoothing her forehead. Desire was there, but something else too, as if he was trying to bore into the hidden caverns of her brain. It was a look that made her heart want to punch out of her chest and fly into his.
Don’t fall, she begged herself, even as her body trembled at the tenderness of his touch.It isn’t real. Don’t fall.
His mouth closed in on hers. A feather-light kiss. Light, but with the power to send more thrills racing through her than all the other kisses they’d shared.
Another feather-light brush of his mouth.
Don’t. Fall.
His lips fused against hers in the way they’d only ever done in her dreams, hard, demanding and yet so very sensual and, at the first flicker of his tongue against hers, the stray thoughts Elsbeth had managed to recapture and all the frantic warnings in her head flew away as heat and electricity crackled through to her core.
With a sigh of pleasure, she cupped the nape of his neck and melted into his mouth.
Amadeo shuddered at the scorch Elsbeth’s light touch branded on his neck, and deepened the fusion of their mouths. Never had merekissingbeen so potent, the clash of lips and tongues so erotic. What had he imagined? That to delve into a Fernandez’s mouth would poison him? If there was poison it was soaked in nectar, an addictively sweet toxin that fed into his bloodstream and fed the hunger for her that had taken on a life of its own.
Her skin was laced with the same sweetness and,Dio, it was so soft, softer than brushed velvet, and he trailed his mouth and tongue down her brushed velvet neck into the shallow at the base that had so caught his fantasies.
He shifted lower, using his hands and mouth to explore her body. Even his wildest imagination couldn’t have adequately conjured its beauty. Above her left breast sat a small mole he’d never seen before...he’d hardly seenanyof her before. He kissed it before kissing lower still, over the swell of breasts so much fuller than he’d appreciated. Reverently, he took a hardened peak into his mouth, an electric thrill racing through him to finally hear the soft mew of Elsbeth’s pleasure.
Forcing himself to keep his ardour in check, he lavished attention on each breast in turn, revelling in the subtle responses of her passion. It was all there, in the arch of her back, the delicate hitching of her breath, the familiar clenching of the bedsheets and the grazing of her right foot against the mattress.
More than that, he couldfeelit, the fevered heat consuming her, could feel it as deeply as the burn consuming him.
Flames were licking Elsbeth’s skin. Every touch of Amadeo’s hands, every brush of his body against hers, every lick of his tongue, every mark of his mouth burned through her flesh, melting her bones until she was nothing but a mass of pulsating need.
Who knew a tongue trailed in a circle around her navel could be so arousing, could send the flame burning even deeper? Nothing could have prepared her for such pleasure. She could lie there for ever, putty in the hands of this most hedonistic assault to her senses.
Putty in Amadeo’s hands.
Those same hands were now holding her hips, his lips trailing down her abdomen. So lost in the sensations was she that when his mouth drew down her pubis she didn’t realise what he intended until his tongue brushed against the place where her pleasure was always the most intense and sent a deep thrill rushing through her.
Reflexively, her heart thundering at both the unexpected action and the charge that rocketed through her, she pressed her thighs together.
Instinct told her this was a line of intimacy it was far too dangerous to cross.
But how could she say no to him? How many times had her mother told her that she must never say no to him about anything, that in the bedroom she was to take whatever he gave and give whatever he demanded?
