A Night to Surrender (Spindle Cove #1)(59)

His hand slid down, cupping her breast. She swallowed anxiously. But he stayed calm, kneading the soft globe with tantalizing pressure and rolling the taut nipple beneath his thumb.

With a thoughtful tilt of his head, he turned his attention toward her other breast. Now he cupped them both in his hands, plumping the left, then the right . . . as though he were testing and weighing them against each other. Men were so very strange. He pinched both her ni**les at the same time, and she gasped with surprise and pleasure.

She covered the noise with a nervous laugh. “Couldn’t you at least kiss me when you do that?”

“Gladly.”

His lips brushed the hollow of her throat. Again, and then again. Light, feathery kisses that tore apart her resistance, shredded any resolve. His hands roamed her curves.

“Bram . . .”

“Just kisses,” he murmured, his lips covering her racing pulse. “Just kisses. I swear, I’ll press you no further. I’ll stop the moment you say the word. Only let me kiss you, Susanna.” He trailed his tongue down her neck.

And she sighed her approval, tilting her head to aid his descent. Just kisses. What harm could a few kisses be? It was no more than they’d already done. In her desire-drugged mind, he made so much sense.

His bent his head, and his tongue made a sure, deliberate pass over her nipple. Then he drew the linen-covered peak into his mouth.

She cried out, shocked by the sudden burst of pleasure.

“Hush,” he murmured against her breast. “Just kisses. That’s all. Just kisses.”

Just kisses. Ha. Oh, certainly, these were just kisses. And the Great Pyramids of Egypt were merely little stacks of stone.

Sensation rocketed through her entire body. She’d never known anything so unbearably, exquisitely sweet. He licked and teased and pulled at her nipple, swirling his tongue in ever-widening circles until the fabric of her shift clung wet and heavy to her breast and the rosy flush of her skin showed through.

He gave her other breast the same careful attention, mouthing every curve. Pasting the linen to her aroused flesh.

“Yes,” he breathed, drawing back to look at her. With his hands he framed her bosom, pulling the wet fabric tight until the dark buds of her ni**les were thrust into relief. “Sweet heaven. Like rosebuds in a drift of fresh snow. And this”—he kissed his way down her belly, sinking lower and lower—“this, Susanna, is what will bring a man to his knees.” He pressed his brow to her navel. His mouth settled in the cleft of her thighs, warm and dangerous.

“Bram,” she whispered, frantic. “Bram, please get up. This can’t be good for your injured leg.”

He made a dismissive noise.

Well, now she’d botched matters. The stubborn fool would rather dive off a cliff than admit to a little pain. He certainly wasn’t going to rise to his feet now.

He groaned a little, nuzzling her thigh. His big hand cupped her bottom. “You wanted this, remember? You said you’d bring me to my knees.”

Of course she’d wanted him on his knees. Begging, pleading. Acknowledging her power over him. And now she had him doing exactly that—but something had gone all wrong. She was the one being conquered.

“Just kisses,” he said, framing her waist in his hands and pulling the fabric of her shift taut. “Just kisses, I swear. Let me show you how good it can be. I know exactly what you need.”

He pressed his open mouth to the linen covering her cleft. His tongue darted out, stroking her straight through the fabric, circling over that small, secret place that could bring her so much pleasure. Bliss forked through her, and her knees buckled.

Her breath caught, and she clutched wildly at his shoulders. “Bram, I can’t . . .”

His hands tightened about her waist. Pausing briefly, he murmured, “I have you. You’re safe with me. I won’t let you fall.”

“But—”

“Do you want me to stop?”

She couldn’t make herself answer.

His husky laugh teased her in unbearable ways. “I didn’t think so.”

He applied himself with purpose now, stroking more firmly with his tongue. Waves of pleasure pushed through her, and she surrendered to them, going limp in his strong embrace. With his shoulder, he gently prodded her knee to the side, spreading her wide to his kiss. Exquisite sensation mounted higher and higher. The moist heat of his mouth mingled with the dew of her arousal. Dampness surged between her legs.

His attentions centered on that sensitive, swollen bud at the crest of her sex. He licked and stroked and nibbled until she was helpless with pleasure. The muscles in her thighs began to quiver. A whimper eased from her throat.

And the world began to constrict. The remote din of music and laughter faded. The wind ceased to blow. Everything was forgotten. Nothing existed but the two of them: his wicked, talented mouth and her intense, spiraling joy. He pushed her higher and higher, until she tumbled straight over the edge into a soul-shaking climax.

She cried out with it, rocked by waves of pleasure.

As she came back to herself, he held her tight, pressing his brow to her belly and whispering soothing words. His thumbs sketched comforting circles on the small of her back.

She sank to her knees, and he pulled her down to the ground. There they lay beneath the willow tree, their limbs tangled and knotted as tree roots. Their combined breath made a little cloud of fog—as if they had their own sky hanging over them, here in this world apart.