Where Dreams Begin(94)

The sight of his magnificent body, long and powerful and supremely masculine, caused Holly's eyes to widen. “Oh, Zachary, you're such a beautiful man.” She gathered herself against the wonderful wealth of hair on his chest, playing with the dark curls, brushing her mouth and fingers through them.

A faint groan came from over her head. “You're the beautiful one.” His hands moved gently over her back and hips, savoring the texture of her skin. “I never recovered from my first glance at you, at the Bellemont ball.”

“You saw me then? But it was dark outside.”

“I followed you after I kissed you in the conservatory.” He pushed her to her back, his gaze sweeping over her na**d body. “I watched as you went to your carriage, and I thought you were the loveliest thing I had ever seen.” He pressed a kiss to her shoulder, his tongue touching the fragile curve, and Holly trembled.

“And you began to scheme,” she said breathlessly.

“That's right. I thought of a hundred ways to get under your skirts, and I decided the best plan was to hire you. But somewhere in the middle of my efforts to seduce you, I fell in love with you.”

“And your intentions became honorable,” she said, pleased.

“No, I still wanted to get under your skirts.”

“Zachary Bronson,” she exclaimed, and he grinned, bracing his forearms on either side of her head. Holly felt her pulse quicken with anticipation as the length of one hard, hair-dusted leg insinuated between her thighs, and the burning silken weight of his sex pressed intimately against her hip.

“That afternoon in the summerhouse was the best damn thing that ever happened to me,” he said. “But the way you left me right afterward…it was like being cast from heaven straight to hell.”

“I was afraid,” she said remorsefully, pulling his head down and kissing his cheeks and brandy-flavored mouth.

“So was I. I didn't know how I was going to recover from you.”

“You make me sound like an illness,” she said with a wavering smile.

A hot glow appeared in his sable eyes. “I've discovered there's no cure for you, my lady. I thought of going to another woman, but I couldn't. The hell of it is, you're the only one I want.”

“Then you haven't…” Holly was filled with relief. The thoughts of Zachary making love to other women in her absence had tormented her, and she was overwhelmed with gladness that he hadn't.

“No, I haven't,” he informed her, his tone lowering to a growl that was only half-feigned. “I've gone a month without relief, and you're going to pay for it.” Holly's eyes closed, and all her nerves sparked wildly as she heard his threatening whisper in her ear. “For the next few hours, my lady, you're going to be damned busy taking care of my needs.”

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, that's what I want, too—” Her words were cut short as Zachary bent his head over her breast. His hot breath fanned over the tender nipple until it contracted, and then he took it in his mouth. Holly's entire body tensed as he used the tip of his tongue to feather and tickle the sensitive peak. She put her arms around his shoulders, her fingers splayed wide over the hard slopes of muscle. He drew the taut nipple deeper into his mouth, suckling for long minutes, until he felt her thighs closing rhythmically on either side of his leg.

His hand slid between her legs, expertly finding the touch of moisture hidden among the springy curls. Whispering softly, he parted the soft feminine flesh to discover the peak that ached so sweetly. He teased her, sliding his fingertip around the tiny nub but never quite touching it, until she gasped and lifted her h*ps beseechingly. “Please,” she whispered through lips that felt swollen and hot. “Please, Zachary…”

She felt his mouth brush hers, a delicious pressure that made her surge upward in an eager search for more. He kissed her again, his tongue exploring her mouth while she responded with utter abandon. His body shifted over hers, and she felt his sex nudge against her, the broad head nestling in the triangle of dark curls. Encouraged by his hoarse murmur, Holly reached down to the heavy shaft, her hand trembling a little as she closed it around the hardness. She stroked him hesitantly, and her face turned scarlet as his own hand covered hers and moved it in a rougher, harder caress.

“Shouldn't I be more gentle with you?” she asked, somehow mortified and excited at the same time.

“Men aren't like women,” he said raspily. “You prefer gentleness…all we require is enthusiasm.”

Wordlessly Holly demonstrated her enthusiasm until he removed her hand with a curse and a groan. “Enough,” he managed to say. “I don't want this to end too soon.”

“I do.” Holly threw her arms around him and spread kisses over his chest and throat. “I want you…oh, Zachary, I want…”

“That feeling I gave you in the summerhouse?” he whispered, his eyes gleaming with wicked knowledge.

Holly nodded against his throat, and spread herself beneath him, her body taut and trembling with the need to be taken, claimed, possessed. He drew his hand in a slow, searching path over her br**sts, stomach, abdomen, and she made an excited sound as his palm brushed over the small, curly patch of hair at the apex of her thighs. His fingers were clever and maddeningly elusive, dipping into the curls with light touches, never quite reaching the place that had become hot and embarrassingly saturated. Her h*ps lifted urgently, searching for the stimulation he with-held, and then she felt his mouth slide over her skin in a trail from her br**sts to her stomach. His hands closed over her hips, squeezing and steadying, and Holly jumped in surprise as she felt his mouth drift over the moist curls. She exclaimed something, an incoherent sound that could have been either protest or encouragement, and Zachary's dark head lifted as he glanced at her flushed face.