Mine Till Midnight (The Hathaways #1)(59)

The fire flicked and snapped its yellow ribbons, lapping at broken birch and oak. Hot... he had never been so hot in his life. As he considered removing his shirt, he felt Amelia's hands creeping under the loose hem. The small, cool fingers roamed over his steaming skin. Wherever she touched, the muscles rippled and tightened, and it felt so good that Cam let out a faint groan against her hair. She grasped loose handfuls of his shirt and tugged upward. Without hesitation he sat up, stripped the garment off and tossed it aside.

She crawled into his lap, her long hair streaming over his na**d chest and shoulders in a silken net. Entranced, Cam held still as she pressed her mouth to his chest, his shoulders, the base of his throat, in a delicate frolic of kisses.

"Amelia? His hands came to her head, stilling her. The warm ripples of her hair slid over his arms, raising gooseflesh.

"Monisha," he whispered, "I won't do anything you don't want. I only want to give you pleasure."

Her face was glowing in the firelight, her lips the color of red currants. "What does that word mean?"

"Monisha? An endearment." He could hardly think straight. "A Roma says it to a woman he's intimate with."

Her hands came to his, fingers slipping into the spaces between his fingers. They held each other, their lips forming soundless words, mouths grazing and catching with damp heat.

Cam lowered her to the blankets, in the pool of dancing firelight. And he whispered in the old language, telling her that he wanted to chase her as the sun chased the moon across the sky, he wanted to fill her until they were corthu, one being, joined. He was only half aware of what he was saying, drunk on the scent of her and the heat rising from her body.

He opened her robe and gown, dreamily pulling the soft fabric away from the deep curves of her br**sts and waist. She was so beautifully made, lush and firm, the pale skin burnished with light. Voluptuous shadows dipped into places he yearned to touch and taste. He followed her spreading blush with his mouth, pursuing the wash of color. She shivered beneath him, her hands gripping the bulging muscles of his upper arms.

He cupped her br**sts and teased the peaks with his breath and tongue until they were hard and silken. Softly he drew one between his teeth, held it there until she whimpered and lifted upward.

Cam tugged at the tangled layer of her gown between them. The cove of her navel rose and fell with her breathing. Easing his mouth over it, he sank the tip of his tongue into the tight circle, filling the hollow.

"Cam... oh, wait..." She was squirming now, pushing at him in earnest. He caught her hands and gripped them close against her body, and breathed hard against her stomach.

Fighting for self-control, Cam laid his cheek against her skin with all the gentleness he was capable of. "I won't hurt you," he whispered. "I'm only going to kiss you ... taste you . .."

Her voice was plaintive. "Not there."

Cam couldn't suppress a smile. This was new, this mixture of amusement and arousal. "Especially there." He let his fingers drift over her hip and thigh, into the soft curls. "I want to know every part of you, monisha?Hold still for me and?yes, love, yes? He moved downward, shaking with hunger. The scents of intimate salt and female skin had kindled an unbearable craving. His mouth brushed intimately closed lips. He licked them open, delving into the heat, the taste of her pleasure.

Amelia was silent except for her broken gasps, her legs clamping hard against his sides. Helplessly she followed the sinuous pattern of his tongue, her entire body arching and yearning. He soothed her, provoked her, his mouth as playful as a swallow in flight. His breath fell rapidly on her wet flesh, her erotic incense. He slid a finger into the silkiness.

She made a sound of distress as she lost all self-control, and he gloried in it, his mouth punishing in its gentleness. He drew out the torment until the soft female moans broke into sobs. She tightened and twisted, her fingers closing in; his hair, h*ps pulsing in helpless movements as he licked away every twitch and throb.

After a while he moved to gather her against him. She reached down to the fastenings of his breeches and worked at them until the garment was loose around his hips. The rigid length of him sprang free. Her hand curled around the burgeoning shape, stroking until Cam jerked back with a gasp.

Her face was flushed, eyes half-closed. She touched him again, urged him forward, instinctively making an open cradle of her h*ps and legs. He resisted, keeping his weight suspended above her, shielding her from the gaze of moonlight as he spread his fingers and trailed them over the front of her body. She shivered as the tip of his smallest finger brushed the tip of her breast. He traced a circle around it, watching the bud tighten.

"If you want me, love," he whispered, "tell me in Romany. Please."

Blindly Amelia turned her head and kissed the curve of his biceps. "What should I say?"

He murmured soft lyrical words, waiting patiently as she repeated them, helping her when she faltered. All the while he positioned himself against her, lower, tighter, and just as the last syllable left her lips, he thrust strongly inside her.

Amelia flinched and cried out in pain, and Cam was torn between acute regret at having hurt her, and the devastating pleasure of being inside her. Her innocent flesh cinched around the unfamiliar invasion, her h*ps lifting as if to throw him off, but every movement only drew him deeper. He tried to soothe away the hurt, stroking her, kissing her throat and br**sts. Taking a rosy crest into his mouth, he sucked lightly, ran his tongue over it, until she relaxed beneath him and began to moan.