When Strangers Marry (Vallerands #1)(38)



His long, wet arms closed around her, and she felt the water from his chest soak through the back of her gown. Another high-pitched giggle erupted from her lips, and she damned herself for losing all traces of self-possession. “Max, you’ve made me wet all over!”

His mouth descended to the back of her neck, kissing softly. “Sweet little wife,” he whispered. “Let me have just a little more of you. I won’t break my promise, I swear. Just let me touch you. Please.”

She felt him tug at the back of her gown, and the laces gave way, releasing her confined flesh in an impetuous spill. The bodice of her gown began to slide, and before she could prevent it, the gown dropped to the floor in a wet heap. She was left dressed only in a damp chemise and stockings. Max’s hand slid over the tight curve of her bare bu**ocks, and she jumped at the startling touch.

He crooned wordlessly, his chest working against her back as he breathed in deep gusts. His hand glided over her hip and around to her front, his fingertips brushing across the hollow of her navel. Lysette flattened her palms on the hard wood paneling of the door. “Max,” she managed to say shakily, “you shouldn’t.”

“I’ll stop the moment you tell me to.” His palm passed lightly over the springy thatch of hair between her thighs. His teeth caught the nape of her neck lightly, and then he soothed the nip with gentle strokes of his tongue. “Don’t be afraid. I only want to please you. Dieu, how sweet you are.”

Her traitorous throat closed on a protest, while his nearness caused her body to ache in deep, intimate places. She continued to face away from him, gasping, while he eased the chemise up to her waist. He let the scorching length of his erection press high on her bu**ocks, the head of the shaft seeming to brand her like heated iron. Reality slid free of Lysette’s tenuous grasp, and she let herself push back against his steaming male body.

His fingers wandered through the fiery curls, softly exploring the tender feminine mound. Her lips parted, but she couldn’t make herself tell him to stop. It felt too good. He sifted through the springy triangle, until Lysette moaned and spread her legs in an involuntary plea. His mouth touched her ear and wandered to her damp cheek.

Gently his clever fingers parted her swollen lips and entered the tender cleft. “Petite, I’ve dreamed of touching you here… like this… yes, let me, ma belle….” He found the tiny peak of flesh that had begun to throb with sensation, and his wet fingertips nudged, circled, coaxed, until Lysette began to whimper and roll her forehead against the door. Her heart raced out of control, the blood pumping wildly through her veins.

“Max,” she said raggedly, “Oh, Max…”

His middle finger slipped inside her, gliding easily through the tight opening. She stiffened at the tender invasion, while a hot glow spread through her loins. “Shall I stop now?” he whispered. His finger withdrew, causing her to shudder hungrily. “Tell me, Lysette, tell me what you want, and I’ll do it.”

She turned to face him, her arms winding around his neck, her ni**les pressing into the thick fleece on his chest. All principles had burned to cinders in the white-hot conflagration of desire. “Max, make love to me, now, please, please, please—“

“I won’t take your virginity yet.” His hand coasted down her back in a stroke that was meant to soothe, but caused her to writhe wildly. “Not until I’m certain that you truly want it.”

“I do want it,” she moaned. “I do.”

His hand slid back between her legs, his fingers returning unerringly to the place where she needed them most. “I’ll give you ease. I just wanted to make certain that you were willing.”

If she were any more willing, she would burst into flames. Her head fell back against his supportive arm while her h*ps squirmed in constricted circles, responding to his every caress. The sensations flared rapidly, too fast, too hot, and she cried out as her body was suddenly overtaken with rich spasms, her nerves sparking with heat, pleasure inundating every part of her until she was weak and shivering. She sagged against him, burying her face in his shoulder.

“Max… take me to bed now.”

“No,” he muttered stealing a hard kiss from her damp lips. “I don’t want to take advantage of you, petite.”

“I would never think that. Please, Max—”

“Not when you might blame me for it later.”

Lysette was amazed that he was going to refuse her, when it was obvious that he wanted to make love to her. Did he care that much about her feelings? Her heart pounded at the thought, and she offered him her mouth again. When their lips parted, she said breathlessly, “If you’re implying that I’m not in full possession of my senses—”

“You’re not.”

“Yes, I am!”

“A good Creole wife never argues with her husband,” he informed her.

A reluctant laugh bubbled in Lysette’s throat, and she played with the hair on his chest. “Max…” She rubbed her cheek against his smooth shoulder. “Do you think the bathwater is still hot?”

“Probably.” He lifted her chin and smiled down at her. “Is it my turn to bathe you now?” he asked, and lifted her in his arms before she could reply.

Chapter 7

Although Lysette had lived in an almost exclusively female household for much of her life, she now found herself surrounded by men. It did not take long for her to discover that her male in-laws were quite different from her stepfather.

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