Love, Come to Me(56)

He lowered her down to the bed and shed his robe. His tanned skin seemed to trap the glow of the light as he bent over her, his gaze moving from her toes all the way up to her face. Hungry blue eyes met hers, shining with dark fire. “You’re beautiful, Lucy,” he whispered.

They were words that he had said to her before, but in this moment of discovery it seemed that this was the first time she had ever heard them. Her gaze faltered and her eyelashes lowered as he kissed her, his hand sliding beneath her head to cradle it possessively. His mouth demanded that she respond to him, his stroking hand insisted on venturing to the most secret places of her body. All of the hesitation and the shyness that Lucy had expected to feel crumbled and burnt to ashes in the face of his passion. Were those really her arms, pulling his head down to make his kisses deeper? Were those muted, smothered sounds coming from her throat? Oh, she had never dreamed, never thought, never imagined how good his na**d skin would feel against hers. She wanted to know what every inch of him felt like. Her hands slid up his back to his heavy, powerful shoulders, her palms smoothing over the faint edges of sears and back down to his lean waist. Boldly she let her fingertips drift to the hard surface of his bu**ocks and he groaned against her lips.

“It’s been such a long time. I’ve wanted you for so long . . .” Heath slid down her body and pressed his mouth in the fragrant valley between her br**sts. His thoughts careened into a haphazard jumble. The needs and the forceful demands of his body took the place of caution. His hands were filled with the softness of her; his mouth parched for the taste of her skin. She had fought him and denied him, turned his world upside down, set countless obstacles in his way, and suddenly here she was in his arms, yielding to him freely. All his frustrated desire was aroused to an acute pitch, and he was too far gone now to stop, think, or slow down. It seemed that his whole life was balanced on the outcome of this moment, and he knew that he had to have her or die of hunger.

Lucy gasped as his probing mouth found her nipple and surrounded the sensitive peak. His tongue stroked wetly over the very tip; then, his teeth caught at the contracting flesh and pulled at it delicately. Writhing, she felt the sensation extending to the pulsing softness between her thighs. Helplessly she let him spread her legs with his hands. She was so consumed by desire that she was shaking. He was kissing her everywhere. His hands caressed her thighs, and his body moved further down the mattress. His lips were on the inside of her thigh and they were sliding upwards. Suddenly she knew what he was going to do.

“Heath, wait—”

“Shhh.” He nipped the tender skin at the top of her leg and nuzzled into the soft, dark triangle of curls. “Let me . . . you’re my wife.” As he reached the burning flesh between her legs and his tongue flickered over the tiny, well-hidden cache of nerves, Lucy’s knees drew up and her toes curled into the bed. Heath’s hands cupped her bu**ocks, raising her up to the sensitive exploration of his lips.

Catching a sob back in her throat, she clenched her teeth and turned her face to the side, aware of every subtle, dancing touch of his mouth, conscious of nothing else but what he was doing to her. Her bu**ocks tensed in his palms as she was overwhelmed by pleasure. Suddenly his tongue flickered inside her, and she arched involuntarily, her senses expanding until she was hurtled through an explosion of feeling.

Gasping heavily, she floated in a warm sea of weakness, her eyes heavy-lidded with passion as she saw Heath’s face above her. She was too exhausted, too limp to protest as the weight of his hard-muscled body settled over hers. “Just relax.” His tone was caressing and low in her ear. “I won’t be rough. Let me love you . . .” There was an intrusion between her thighs, and somehow she was shifting her legs to make it easier for him, and then she gasped at the powerful invasion as he pushed into her. There was pain and the shocking realization that he was inside her. Responding to the gentle encouragements he whispered to her, she moved her legs further apart and he slid even deeper, huge and scalding as he moved within her. She flinched at the unfamiliar sensation and the discomfort, but his hands were there to soothe her quivering body, and his voice was soft and strangely broken. “You’re so sweet . . . Cinda . . . I knew you would feel like this . . . I knew it would be this way. Put your arms around me . . .”

Thrusting with a controlled rhythm, he gathered her more closely against him and showed her how to follow him. He was uninhibited and utterly abandoned, just as she had known he would be, ruthlessly stripping away her privacy and demanding with his hands and mouth for her to tell him what gave her pleasure. As Lucy looked up at the tawny features of the man she had married, she couldn’t imagine sharing this closeness with anyone else, and she knew that after tonight nothing would ever be the same. Confused, she turned her face into his gleaming shoulder and felt a wash of heat inside her; she felt his body driving in and staying there as he stilled and buried his face against her neck. His hands clenched into fists that depressed the pillow on either side of her head.

Blindly she raised her mouth to his, her lips parted and eager. The hours drifted by as their two forms entwined and touched, sometimes urgently and sometimes at a languorous pace. Lucy matched his desire with her own, returning his passion with an equal measure and giving no heed to thoughts of yesterday or tomorrow. She didn’t notice when the lamp burned out. She only knew that as the night deepened she became part of the darkness, part of a dream that was now long past innocence, wrapped in a sensual spell that would be broken as soon as morning arrived. With every touch Heath made her more a part of him, and in the hours beyond midnight she began to fear that he had taken more from her than just her innocence.