Seven Years to Sin(61)
“I feel you,” she breathed, as intoxicated by his ardency as she was by the finest claret. “You have become everything to me.”
Clasping her tightly, he pivoted toward the bed.
Chapter 17
Jess sank into the mattress with Alistair directly following on top of her. The descent jolted them both, his cock piercing deep as he pinned her to the bed. She moaned, perspiration blooming across her skin. He growled, fisting the counterpane on either side of her head and lunging again. The thrust was powerful, pushing her across the slippery velvet only to be stopped by his steely forearms at her shoulders.
“No,” she gasped, on the verge of climax. If she let him, he’d hurtle her into her first of many orgasms within moments. He would ride her relentlessly, delaying his own release until she was witless with pleasure and trembling. He would undress her and himself while she was too satiated to move; then he would continue for hours, stripping her defenses with merciless determination.
He paused, staring down at her with a gaze so hot it flushed her skin. “No?”
She pushed up onto her elbows. “Let me have you.”
Alistair straightened. He made swift work of removing his waistcoat, cravat, and shirtsleeves, all without leaving her body. He was forced to withdraw to remove his lower garments, his breath leaving him in a harsh rush as her tender tissues clung greedily to his length as he stepped back.
She took a long moment to admire the perfection of his naked body. It was a sight she would never tire of. He was long and lean, so fit that every sinewy length of tight, hard muscle was rendered in stark relief beneath his smooth skin. Her gaze traveled from his shoulders to his feet and back up again, lovingly caressing him—every virile inch. He moved not at all, unabashedly affording her the pleasure of looking at him. By the time their eyes aligned, she was breathless with infatuation and potent desire.
“You are exquisite,” she whispered, sliding her feet to the hardwood sole. She approached him and wrapped her arms around his trim hips, her lips pressing a kiss over his heart. “And priceless.”
His returning embrace was so fierce it nearly crushed the air from her. “And yours, Jess. Never doubt it.”
“I’m glad, because I am madly besotted with you.” She laid her cheek against his chest, breathing in the purely masculine scent that cloaked him. His heartbeat quickened at her words, proving what she’d begun to suspect—her fears were affecting him, making him anxious to cling to her as if she might drift away at any moment. An impossible notion to anyone who knew how anchored to him she was. But he didn’t know.
“I wish you would say such things to me more often,” he said gruffly, as ever so brutally, vulnerably honest that he shamed her for being so reticent.
“I don’t know how.” She leaned her head to the side as he began to unfasten the buttons securing the back of her gown.
“You cannot do it wrong.” Alistair kissed the top of her shoulder, then bit her, his teeth sinking deep enough to border on painful. The feral act startled and aroused her. “Did you never discuss your affection for Tarley?”
“The subject wasn’t one that came up in conversation. It was just there, between us, understood and comfortable.”
He turned her away from him to loosen her stays. “That isn’t enough for me.”
“I am falling so far, so fast,” she confessed in a low, shaken tone. “I cannot stop it or moderate it. I’m dizzy with it. My feelings for you frighten me, and so I expect their intensity will frighten you as well.”
“Give voice to your fears, as I do.”
Jess closed her eyes, knowing there was still so much to learn about him. It was her fault she knew so little about the events that had shaped him; she didn’t question him as he questioned her. She’d been trained not to pry, but she would have to break that training if she hoped to make Alistair truly happy.
“I will try. You vocalize your affection without hesitation.” Her gown puddled around her feet. “I envy you that ease.”
He divested her of her corset, chemise, and pantalettes with now-familiar expertise.
“Have you—” Jess cleared her throat. “There must have been someone you cared for?”
“Must there have been?” He stepped back.
She looked at him over her shoulder. He waited, and she finally collected that he waited for her, anticipating the vocalization of why she’d stayed him earlier. “Lie on the bed.”
He moved to do her bidding with sleek and graceful fluidity. He arranged himself in a half-reclined position against the pillows, his long legs stretched out before him, supremely comfortable in his nakedness. She reached the side of the bed and debated where to begin. His erection was an irresistible lure—thick and hard, curving up toward his navel—but she adored all of him.
“Who was she?” she asked, suddenly jealous of the phantom woman—or few—from his past who’d seen him thusly.
“You are so certain.”
“You did not begin your sexual experience as Lucien, so I cannot be the only woman you’ve known carnally as Alistair.”
He fisted his penis in his hand and stroked slowly, his heavy-lidded eyes unable to hide the look that said he was deliberately testing her.
“You’re shameless,” she said in a husky voice, climbing onto the bed.