A Wallflower Christmas (Wallflowers #5)(51)

Rafe nodded, brushing the pad of his thumb over a pink nipple and watching it tighten. “It’s never been an act of love for me before.”

“Does that make it different?”

A wry smile curved his lips as he considered that. “I’m not certain. But there’s one way to find out.”

He undressed himself and lay beside her, gathering her carefully in his arms. Despite the desire raging through his body, he pressed her against him with controlled gentleness, letting her feel him. He slid one hand over her bottom, rubbing in a warm circle.

Her breath caught as she felt the length of him against her. A small hand came to the surface of his chest and explored delicately. “Rafe…how should I touch you?”

He smiled and kissed her throat, savoring the softness and female fragrance of her. “Anywhere, love. Any way you like.” He held still as she played with the light pelt of hair on his chest.

Staring into his eyes, she let her palm drift to the muscles of his abdomen, stroking until they tightened reflexively. She fumbled a little as she grasped his aroused flesh, the hard satiny length alive and pulsing with masculine need. She gave him a few hesitant caresses. His response was so acute that he gasped at the sharply climbing sensation. “Hannah,” he managed to say, reaching down to pull her hand away. “Change of plan. Next time”he paused, struggling for self-control”you can explore to your heart’s content, but for now, let me make love to you.”

“Did I do something wrong? Did you not like the way I”

“I liked it too much. If I liked it any more, this would all be over in less than a minute.” He rose above her and pressed kisses over her body, lingering at her br**sts to tug and tease and softly bite. He delighted in the shocks of response he felt in her, the deepening color of arousal, the instinctive way she moved toward him to follow the source of pleasure.

Nudging her thighs open, he rested his hand between them, fitting his palm over the fleecy triangle. And he held her gently until she writhed and moaned, needing more. Sliding downward, Rafe kissed her stomach, letting his tongue trace delicate circles around her navel. He had never been so aroused, so completely absorbed in someone else’s pleasure. The intimacy was nearly unbearable. His breathing was quick and frayed as he found the entrance of her body and teased around it with his fingertip.

“Hannah, darling,” he whispered, “relax for me.” He eased his finger inside the lush, clinging heat. The feel of her was so exquisite, he let out a groan. “I have to kiss you here. I have to taste you. No, don’t be afraid…just let me…oh, Hannah, sweet love …” He dragged his mouth straight through the curls, and searched hungrily until he found the blunt silken peak. His senses were engulfed in radiant pleasure, all his muscles taut with lust. The taste of her, salt and female, was insanely arousing. He drew his tongue over her, flicked and circled, glorying in her helpless cries. He slid his finger deeper, and again, teaching her the rhythm.

She reached down with a low cry, her hands gripping his head. With tender skill he urged her into climax, luxuriating in the soft, pulsing warmth of her body. Long after her release had faded, he stayed with her, drawing his tongue through the rosy heat, easing her into a dreamy afterglow.

“Rafe,” she said thickly, pulling him upward.

Smiling, he levered his body over hers, staring down into her dazed green eyes.

“More,” she whispered, and wrapped her arms around his back, holding him to her. “I want more of you.”

Murmuring her name, Rafe lowered his body into the cradle of her thighs. A rush of primitive satisfaction went through him as he felt the enticing softness parting for him. He pushed into the resisting flesh, so hot, so wet, and the deeper he went, the more tightly she closed around him. He thrust deep and held, trying not to hurt her. It was like nothing he had ever felt before, a pleasure beyond imagining. He took her head in his hands and kissed her mouth, while his senses swam in rapture. “I’m sorry, love,” he said in a guttural voice. “So sorry to hurt you.”

Hannah smiled and drew him down to her. “As a foreigner goes to a new country …” she whispered against his ear.

He let out a shaken laugh. “God. You’ll never let me forget that letter, will you?”

“I never even read the whole thing,” she said. “Parts of it were burned. And now I’ll never know everything you said.”

“The passages you missed were probably about this,” he murmured, pushing gently inside her. They both caught their breath and held still, absorbing the feel of it. Rafe pressed a smile against her cheek. “I wrote quite a lot about this.”

“Tell me what you wrote.”

He whispered into her ear, love words and intimate praise, and all the longing he’d felt. And with each word he felt something opening inside him, a sense of freedom and power and perishing tenderness. She moved with him, welcoming him deeper, and the ecstasy of being joined with her roared through him, driving him to a piercing, brilliantly transcending release.

Indeed…love made it different.

RAFE HELD HER FOR A LONG TIME AFTERWARD, HIS HAND STROK-ing gently over her back and hip. He couldn’t seem to stop touching her. Hannah snuggled in the crook of his arm, her body feeling heavy and sated. “Is this real?” she whispered. “It feels like a dream.”

Amusement rumbled in his chest. “It will seem real enough tomorrow morning when I take you back to the manor a fallen woman. If I hadn’t already told Westcliff of my intentions to marry you, I daresay he’d greet me with a horsewhip.”