Where Dreams Begin(111)

A smile pulled up from deep inside him, and he shook his head slightly. He wandered along the path of roses, in no particular hurry as he added to his growing collection. The blossoms were lush and fragrant, the sweet smell teasing his senses as he carried them. After retrieving more than a dozen, he found himself standing before his own bedroom door, with one last bloom dangling from the doorknob by a red ribbon. Feeling rather dreamlike, he opened the door, crossed the threshold and closed himself inside the bedroom.

A small table laden with covered silver dishes and candles in silver holders had been set in the corner. His gaze traveled from the cozy supper for two to the sight of his pretty dark-haired wife, who was dressed in something filmy and black. Her body was visible through the wickedly revealing negligee, and he stared at her in stupefied silence.

“Where is everyone?” he asked with difficulty.

Holly waved a rose as if it were a magic wand. “I made them all disappear.” Smiling mysteriously, she came forward to embrace him. “Now, which will you have first?” she asked. “Supper?…Or me?”

The roses dropped to the floor in a rustling, sweetly aromatic heap. He stood amid the cascade of blossoms as she pressed against him, silken and fragrant and utterly female. Zachary's arms went around her. The feel of her warm flesh beneath the transparent black silk was enough to make his mouth go dry and his aching loins wake in a rapid, twitching surge. He tried to control the bursting excitement that filled him, but he was so hungry with longing, his body so damn deprived, that all he could do was stand there and gulp for air. Her small, clever hands roamed busily beneath his coat, tugging at buttons, pulling at fabric until his shirt hung free of his trousers. Her palm brushed lightly over his rock-hard erection, lingered in a squeezing caress, and she smiled against his shirtfront. “I suppose this answers my question,” she murmured, and set about freeing him from the tight constriction of broadcloth.

Somehow in the midst of his turmoil, Zachary was able to make his stiff mouth form words. “Holly, I'm afraid…oh, God…I can't control myself.”

“Then don't,” she said simply, and tugged his head down to hers.

He resisted, his face drawn with torment. “If I should cause you a relapse…”

“Darling.” She stroked his cheek with her soft hand, smiling tenderly at him. “Don't you know that your love only gives me strength?” She touched the corner of his taut mouth with a gentle fingertip. “Give me what I need, Zachary,” she whispered. “It's been far too long.”

Groaning, he took her sweet mouth with his, delving deeply with his tongue, and the pleasure of it drove him wild. He kissed her endlessly, sucking, stroking, devouring, while his hands cupped over her silk-covered br**sts, her round hips, her bottom. The feel of her made him dizzy. He dragged her to the bed and tossed her on top of the mattress, and tore at his own clothes until most of them were gone. He crawled on top of her, his hands and mouth searching for the white skin left uncovered by the veil of black silk, while she whispered urgently for him to unfasten her gown. “There are some buttons,” she gasped. “No…not there, over here…yes, and a ribbon that ties over my…oh, yes…”

His growing desperation made it impossible to dispose entirely of the intricate network of fastenings. Finally he settled for pushing the filmy skirts up to her waist and lowering himself between her open thighs. He pushed himself inside her, lunging, sliding, until he was deeply encased in her silken heat. She moaned and wrapped her arms and legs around him, her h*ps pressing firmly upward against his weight. Framing her face in his hands, he kissed her open mouth and began to thrust without restraint, taking her in primitive, impatient drives that made her whimper against his lips. The delicate crescents of her nails pressed into his back, and he shuddered and pumped harder, until the eruption of sensation caught up with him at last. For a moment the release seemed too intense to bear, white-hot and consuming as it blazed through his body. Just as his cl**ax began to ease, he felt her inner muscles tighten around him in a long, exquisite ripple. He took her cry into his mouth and held himself as far inside her as possible, riding her until the last tremor had faded.

They lay together, winded and relaxed and steeped in pleasurable aftermath. Zachary drew his fingers over his wife's alluring body, unfastening what was left of the negligee and stripping it away. Finding a rose poised on a nearby pillow, he retrieved the soft open blossom and drew it over her damp pearly skin, tickling her br**sts and navel, gently stroking it between her thighs. “Zachary,” she protested, delighting him with a blush.

He grinned lazily, feeling at peace for the first time in months. “Witch,” he murmured. “You knew I wanted to wait longer before doing this.”

Holly levered herself over him with a triumphant smile. “You don't always know what's best for me.”

He tangled his hands in her hair and urged her to kiss him. “And what is best for you?” he whispered when their lips had parted.

“You,” she informed him. “As much of you as I can have.”

Filled with adoration, Zachary stared into her smiling face. “I believe I can oblige you, my love.” And he pulled her deep into his embrace and loved her once again.