Heaven, Texas (Chicago Stars #2)(79)

“But I wanted so much to be—to be good at this!”

“I understand.” He settled on top of her and nudged her legs apart with his own. “Sometimes you just have to accept your faults. A little bit wider, honey.”

It was the least she could do for him.

Once again, she felt his hand brush her thighs, and then his finger invaded. He groaned. “You’re so tight.”

“I’m sorry. It’s because I’ve never—” She gasped as he began a slow, rhythmic stroking that uncoiled ribbons of sensation inside her. He touched her everywhere, his skillful, inquisitive fingers making intimate silken patterns.

“Bobby Tom?” She whispered his name as if it were a question.

“Don’t apologize, sweetheart. You can’t help being a failure.” Through her excitement, she realized he was smiling against her damp cheek. But before she could figure out why, she felt a hard probing at the small entrance to her body. Her hands convulsed around his shoulders as tingling shocks of pleasure raced through her body. “Oh…”

He eased inside, stretching her bit by bit, giving her time to adjust to his size. She could feel his restraint in the tight coiling of his muscles beneath her hands. But she didn’t want restraint. She had been waiting for this forever.

“Hurry,” she gasped. “Please hurry.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, honey.” His voice sounded tight, the way it did when he lifted weights.

“Please. Don’t hold back.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“I do. I want everything.”

He trembled and drove into her. Shafts of delight sped through her tissues and sang in her blood. She lifted her hips and wrapped her legs around his. He shoved his hands beneath her and tilted her higher, thrusting more deeply. She reveled in her ability to bear his weight, to accept his sex, and she gave a gasp of joy at the woman’s magic that permitted her body to accommodate his.

His breathing was a rough rasp in her ear, and she moved with him as if she’d been doing it forever. The sensations that swept through her felt more powerful than anything she’d ever imagined, like wind and thunder. He carried her higher and higher into the clouds, toward a mysterious place where only ecstasy dwelt. The dampness from their bodies mingled with their cries until they were part of the clouds. For a moment they hung there, perfectly suspended. And then they tumbled together in a warm shower of silver rain.

It could have been minutes or hours before she hit the earth. The world returned in bits and pieces: the brush of cool air on her arm, the distant sound of a jet passing overhead. His body grew heavy on hers. She welcomed the weight and experienced a pang of loss when she felt a gentle suction as he pulled out of her.

He rolled to his stomach, keeping his face turned toward her and laying his upper arm across her chest, just beneath her breasts. He fell into a light doze, and, as she lay on her back, she studied him, memorizing every detail of his face: the sensuous lower lip, the way his spiky lashes rested on his cheekbone, the straight, strong nose, and the curl of damp blond hair at his temple. His skin looked golden in the soft lamplight. He was so beautiful he took her breath away.

Joy surged through her. She wanted to dance; she wanted to climb up on the roof of the house and cheer. She had never been so full of energy.

“Bobby Tom?”

“Uhmm…”

“Could you open your eyes?”

“Urgmm…”

She thought of a cartoon she’d seen long ago of dancing mice holding frilly umbrellas. That’s how she felt lying naked here in bed with this man, as full of happiness as a dancing mouse with a frilly umbrella. “That was even better than I thought it would be. I knew you’d be an excellent lover—you really are, Bobby Tom—I’m sure you must be exceptional. But you shouldn’t have teased me when I thought I’d ruined everything with my premature orgasm.”

He opened one eye and, with his cheek still pressed against the pillow, peered at her. “In case you haven’t figured it out yet, there isn’t any such thing as a premature orgasm for a woman.”

“How was I supposed to know that? I mean this in a constructive way, so please don’t be offended, but you have an annoying habit of making jokes that only you understand.”

He smiled and lifted the arm draped across her chest to play in her hair with his fingers. “That was just about irresistible.” He gave a bark of laughter. “Premature orgasm.”

“Men can have them. I don’t see why women can’t.”

“Damn, you modern females want everything, don’t you? Well, sweetheart, us men are keeping this one just for ourselves, even if you take us all the way to the Supreme Court.” He yawned and rolled to his back, taking most of the sheet with him.

She sat up against the headboard. “Are you hungry? I am. I couldn’t eat too much earlier because I was so nervous, but, I swear, I could eat a horse now. I’ll settle for a sandwich, though, or even a bowl of cereal, or soup. Or maybe—”

“Chatty little thing, aren’t you?”

“Do you think we could do it again?”

He groaned. “I need a little recovery time. I’m not as young as I used to be a couple of hours ago.”

“I thought—Well, I know there are some different positions, and, to be completely honest, I’m rather fascinated by the, uh, male organ, and I didn’t get much opportunity to really study it, and—”