Where Dreams Begin(80)

She fought against the tangle of clothing between them, longing to be completely rid of her gown, wanting to feel his bare legs against hers instead of the textured broadcloth trousers. Voluptuous tension gathered inside her, while cries of need broke from her throat. A strange, wild fever had overtaken her, and she couldn't stop herself from writhing harder against him. She loved the rough, dense texture of his body, the thrusting length of him inside her, the big hands that cupped her br**sts as she rode him. Then suddenly she couldn't move at all, her muscles locking as burning pleasure blossomed in her loins and spread all through her body. Paralyzed, she bit her lip and moaned as her nerves caught fire and her senses exploded.

Although she didn't entirely understand what was happening, Zachary did, for he murmured softly and cradled her in his arms, his h*ps continuing their steady upward drives. She began to shudder, her body tightening in delicious spasms around his invading shaft, and that was enough to send him over the edge as well. He shivered and sighed and buried himself in one last thrust. His hands gripped her bu**ocks, pulling her hard against his loins as he impelled himself as far inside her as possible.

Feeling drunk, Holly relaxed heavily against his chest, while the place where they were joined still glowed and throbbed. She wanted to laugh and cry at the same time, and eventually a nervous giddy sound escaped her. Zachary rubbed her bare back soothingly, and she pressed her cheek against his shoulder.

“That never happened to you with your husband,” he whispered. It was a statement, not a question.

Holly nodded in perplexed wonder. It was hard to believe they could have a conversation this way, with the heat of him still lodged deep within her. But the storm was still beating outside, surrounding them in dark rain-swept privacy, and she heard herself reply in a drugged voice, “I liked making love with George…it was always pleasant. But there were things he never…and I wouldn't…because it isn't right, you see…”

“What isn't right?” Zachary pulled a few pins from her hair and unraveled the warm coil of shining brown locks, spreading them in a curtain over her na**d back.

She spoke slowly, searching for the right words. “A woman should tame a man's bestial nature, not encourage it. I told you once before what lovemaking should be—”

“An elevated expression of love,” he said, playing with her hair. “A communion of souls.”

Holly was surprised that he had remembered. “Yes, exactly. It should not descend into lewdness.”

She felt him smile against the side of her head. “I see nothing wrong with a little lewdness now and then.”

“Of course you wouldn't,” she said, hiding a smile in the thick carpet of curls on his chest.

“So now you probably think your character has begun to degenerate,” he mused, and her smile faded.

“I've just had illicit relations with my employer in the summerhouse. I don't think anyone would claim that as evidence of a sterling character.” She tried to move off of him, gasping as the heavy length of him was pulled from inside her. Unbearable mortification swept over her as she felt the abundance of moisture seeping between her thighs, and she groped for something to blot it with. Zachary reached for his discarded coat, and for once he was able to find a handkerchief. He gave it to her, and spoke with a thread of tender amusement in his voice. “I've never seen a woman blush from head to toe before.”

Glancing down, Holly saw that she had turned varying shades of pink and red over every exposed inch of skin. Snatching the handkerchief from him, she turned away from him as far as possible as she used it. “I can't believe what I've done,” she said in a suffocated voice.

“I'll cherish this afternoon for the rest of my life,” Zachary replied. “I'm going to have this summerhouse goldplated, and a plaque hung over the door.”

Holly whirled to face him, horrified that he might be serious, and saw the shimmering laughter in his eyes. “Oh, how can you joke about this?” She jerked and pulled at her gown, great masses of fabric wadded and crumpled around her waist.

“Here, hold still.” Deftly he pulled up her undergarments and hooked her stays and helped her slide her arms back into her sleeves. The evidence of his expertise with womens' clothing was disheartening. There was absolutely no doubt that he had trysted like this with many paramours…She was the latest in a very long line.

“Zachary—” she began, closing her eyes as he gathered the locks of her hair in one hand and lowered his mouth to the side of her throat. His lips moved in a velvet slide across her skin, causing gooseflesh to rise. She made a despairing sound and leaned back against his solid chest. “I'm appalled by my weakness of character where you're concerned,” she said. “No doubt many other women have said that to you.”

“I don't remember any other women,” he said.

She gave a disbelieving laugh, but he turned her to face him, his big hands moving possessively over her waist and sides and back. “What we just shared, Holly…I don't know if it was a communion of souls, but it was the damn closest I'm ever going to get.”

“It was a moment out of time.” She kept her gaze on his bare chest, her hand moving with a will of its own and stroking the hard, sleek muscles, the thick covering of hair. “It has nothing to do with our real lives. I shouldn't have…it's just…I wanted to be with you at least once. I wanted it so badly that I didn't care about anything else.”