Mine Till Midnight (The Hathaways #1)(57)

"So we're going to take this road," he murmured, "and see where it leads."

He waited for a signal, some syllable of objection or encouragement, but she could only stare at him, transfixed and helpless.

He smoothed her hair, whispering for her not to fear him, he would take care of her, please her. His fingers found the sensitive curve of her scalp, cradling her head as he kissed her. He dragged his mouth across hers, again and again, and when her lips were open and damp, he sealed them with his.

Excitement flooded her, and she gave in to the dark pleasure, opening to the penetrating strokes of his tongue, struggling to capture the silkiness. His hands gently urged her backward until her balance collapsed. She lay on the tumbled bed as if on some pagan altar. Bending over her, Cam kissed her throat. There was a series of quick tugs at the front of her gown, and the edges of the garment parted.

She felt his urgency, the heat radiating from his body, but every movement was careful, lingering, as he reached beneath the fragile cotton and caressed her breast. Her knees drew up, her entire body arching to contain the pleasure of his touch. With a wordless sound Cam coaxed her to relax, his hand gliding from her chest to her knees. His parted lips brushed the na**d tip of her breast, toying with the hardening bud, his tongue skimming wetly. She brought her hands to his hair, tangling her fingers in the ebony locks, trying to hold him to her. His mouth closed over her nipple, tugging lightly until she quivered and tried to roll away, unnerved by the feeling that she was being driven to the brink of some new sensation altogether.

Cam pulled her back to him and bent over her once more. His mouth covered hers, while his teasing fingers pulled the hem of her gown higher and found the tender backs of her thighs.

Amelia reached for his shirt with trembling hands. It was loose-cut and collarless, the kind that lifted over the head instead of buttoning. Cam moved to help her, pulling the garment off and tossing it aside. Moonlight gilded the supple, muscular lines of his body, his chest taut and smooth.

Flattening her palms against the hard flesh, she drew them gently downward to his sides and around his back. He shivered at her touch and lowered to the place beside her, one leg sliding between hers. The gown fell open to expose her chest completely, the hem bunching high on her thighs.

His lips descended to her breast again, while he cupped and kneaded the firm flesh. Arching up to him, she struggled to press closer, to bring his weight more fully over her. He resisted, his hands traveling over her in caresses meant to calm her. She quivered at his gentleness, her hands gripping his back. She couldn't think clearly, couldn't find words. Twisting against him, she felt the desire sharpen to unbearable intensity. "Cam.,.. Cam..." She pressed her face to his shoulder.

Feeling the dampness of her lashes, he eased her head back and touched his tongue to an errant teardrop. "Patience, hummingbird. It's too soon."

She looked up into his shadowed features. "For you?"

There was a moment's pause, as if Cam were struggling to hold back a sudden laugh. "No, for you."

"I'm twenty-six years old," she protested. "How could it possibly be too soon for me?"

Cam couldn't suppress his laughter then, burying the low, rich sounds in her mouth.

The kisses turned harder, longer, and in between, Cam spoke in a mixture of Romany and English, and it was unclear if he even knew what language he used. Grasping her hand in his, he brought it down his body to the urgent thrust of his erection. Shocked and fascinated, Amelia eased her hand along the length of him, her fingers molding hesitantly over the hardness. Cam groaned as if in pain, and she snatched her hand back at once.

"I'm terribly sorry," she said, flushing. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"You didn't hurt me." There was a flick of tender amusement in his voice. He caught her hand and brought it back down.

Amelia explored him shyly, her curiosity stirred by the heat and suggestion of movement beneath the taut fabric of his breeches. He seemed to revel in her touch, nearly purring as he moved over her to nuzzle and lick at her throat.

Both his legs were between hers now, widening the space between them, the nightgown crumpled around her waist. Exposed, mortified, excited, she felt one of his hands roaming low on her stomach. Soon there would be pain and possession, all mysteries solved. She thought perhaps now would be an opportune time to mention something.

"Cam?"

His head lifted. "Yes?"

"I've heard there are ways—that is, since this can lead to—oh, I don't know how to say it?

"You don't want me to give you a baby." His fingertips played gently through her intimate dark curls.

"Yes. That is... no." Her breath tangled around a moan.

"I won't. Although there's always a chance." He found a place so alive with sensation that she jerked and drew her knees up. His fingers were light and gentle as he parted the soft cleft. "The question, love, is whether you want me enough to take the risk."

Her senses swam in shame and pleasure at the way he touched her. Her entire existence had dwindled to the sly teasing of one fingertip. And Cam knew. He waited for her answer, stroking, shaping the tenderness with his fingertips, paying careful attention to every shiver and twitch of her body.

"Yes," she said unsteadily. "I want you."

The pad of his thumb stroked downward, gliding through a patch of inexplicable wetness. Before she could say a word, he had pressed into the moisture with his thumb, invading her slightly.