Because You're Mine (Capital Theatre #2)(51)

She couldn't stop herself from responding, her arms locking around his long, hard back, her heart thundering with fear and reckless love. “I don't know what to do,” she gasped against his lips.

“You don't have to do anything. Just trust me.”

Trembling violently, she felt his hand work at the back of her gown until the cashmere loosened across her br**sts. Her ni**les were tight and aching even before Logan pulled down her bodice and lifted her br**sts from the prison of ribbed silk stays.

One last warning shot through her mind, but she ignored it, living only for this moment, this night, no longer caring about what happened later. “Kiss me,” she said faintly, wanting his hot, drugging mouth on hers again. Instead his lips closed over her nipple, teasing, pulling, nudging with his tongue and teeth. She struggled upward, trying to push herself deeper into his mouth, and he subdued her easily. His hands slid over her body, undressing her, pulling at laces and hooks, stripping away every scrap that covered her until all that remained were her stockings and drawers.

In her adult life, Madeline had never been na**d in front of anyone, not even at school, where the students had been admonished to bathe in their linen undergarments. “Don't,” she heard herself whisper, her face flaming as Logan untied her drawers and tugged them past her knees and ankles.

His face was taut with passion. “Sweet love,” he said as she tried to cover herself with her hands. “You've seen every inch of my body…it's my turn now.”

Madeline experienced a feeling of unreality as she let him push her hands away. It can't be me, she thought dazedly, laying na**d amid a pile of velvet cushions while Logan stared at her and touched her intimately. His fingertips slid lightly over her br**sts and stomach and legs, causing shivers and twitches of pleasure to race across her skin. She sensed him studying her, as if he were learning things he needed to know, and she saw the flush of passion spreading across his face.

“Beautiful,” he whispered. “More beautiful than I'd imagined. I'm going to be your first and last, Maddy…forever.”

She quivered beneath him, unable to answer. His hand slid to her taut stomach, fingers stroking the crisp curls, searching the tender division of her thighs. Her heart beat hard in her chest, until she felt the echo of its pounding in every part of her. The effort of holding still made her shiver like a tightly drawn bow.

“Yes, that's right,” she heard him murmur, and he bent to brush his mouth over hers. “Let me touch you…love you…” He explored her with extreme gentleness while she moaned and arched upward, her body consumed with pleasure. Using his fingertip, he gave her the first hint of the invasion to come, pushing until his finger was buried in the moistness.

“Is this what you want?” he asked softly, repeating the question as he stroked inside her. With a stifled cry, she pulled away before the sensations became too intense. She rolled to her side and heard him undressing, the rustle of fine cloth, the raspiness of his breathing.

When Logan was naked, he pulled her to face him. “Touch me,” he said, kissing her, his hands tangling in her long hair. Madeline hesitated; his body had changed with arousal, far different than when she had seen him during his illness. Her hand shook with excitement as she reached down to him, grasping timidly, her fingers filled with silk and steel and scorching heat. Logan made a soft masculine sound and his hand closed over hers, guiding, pressing, showing her what pleased him.

He kissed her with delicious roughness, his tongue twisting and diving into her mouth. Madeline searched his body with her hands. She was hungry for the texture of his skin, so taut and smooth, his legs rough with wiry hair, his back rippled with hard muscle. She crushed and rubbed her face against his throat, inhaling his scent—crisp and masculine, almost like cinnamon. “Do you love me?” she heard him ask, and her voice broke as she replied.

“Always.”

He pushed her thighs apart and settled between them, and she felt the hard, heavy pressure of him at the entrance of her body. Cradling her in his arms, he thrust forward, and the discomfort turned into searing pain. Madeline writhed in protest at the invasion, her body stretched and burning.

Loan muttered against her ear. “God, Maddy, hold still—”

“It hurts,” she gasped.

“I'll make it better,” he said thickly. “Hold onto me.” His mouth traveled to her br**sts, lips covering the taut peaks, sucking and stroking. Her desire began once more, flickering and blazing into life. She clasped his head to hold him closer, the soreness almost forgotten as he began a gentle rhythm inside her, barely moving at first, then increasing the depth of his thrusts. She clung to him, beginning to welcome the slow, repeated penetration. Each movement was luxurious, deliberate, exquisitely controlled.

“Maddy,” he said, his breath scraping in his throat, “you're so tight, so sweet—I've never felt—” He broke off, his brow creased as if in pain, his features veiled in sweat.

Locked in the twisting tangle of their bodies, she was overwhelmed with the need to lift her hips, to pull him tightly inside her. Seeming to understand, Logan pushed her legs up and whispered for her to wrap them around his waist. As he continued the slow driving rhythm, Madeline's mind went dark, and she was suddenly suspended in the white-hot center of intense pleasure. Waves of sensation rolled through her, leaving her limp and stunned in their aftermath.