Where Passion Leads (Berkeley-Faulkner #1)(60)

“Last night seems like a century ago.”

“Yes.” She stared up into the golden glimmer of his eyes as he pressed her back against the pillows. Rand braced his forearms on either side of her head, the solid network of muscle and sinew effectively caging her. How could they have known each other for such a short time? she wondered giddily. How could he have taken over her life so easily, plundered her emotions so effortlessly?

“You think I’ve waited for you only a few weeks,” Rand said, as if he had read her mind. His lips brushed against hers with the lightest of touches, savoring the taste of her, “but you’re wrong. I’ve waited years for you.” A small gasp left her lips as she felt the electric shock of his chest and steely midriff pressing into the bare tenderness of her br**sts. He could easily have crushed her, yet he took care to make certain that he gave her nothing more than a satisfying weight to bear. “Before this night is over you’re going to know exactly how much I want you,” Rand murmured, fully aware of how the light furring of his chest caused the soft peaks of her br**sts to contract in tingling arousal. “And you’re going to wear the mark of my ownership, just as I wear yours . . .” Rosalie closed her eyes, floating in a mist of voluptuous sensation as his soft, erotic purr continued to caress her ears. “. . . so that whenever our eyes meet, even in the most staid and proper of circumstances, you’ll remember the things we’ve done, the things I can make you feel, and you’ll despair of the few hours we’ll have to wait before we’re in bed again.” Before she could utter even a word, he sought her lips passionately, urging her mouth to open to his so that any thought of protest or apprehension flew dizzily from her head. The stunning wonder of the kiss flowed over her in a sleek, roaring current, and she lifted her arms around his neck, craving the damp heat of his mouth, seeking his nearness as if he were her only salvation.

She would forever remember that night of lovemaking as one of the most tormenting experiences of pleasure she would ever endure. It gradually became clear that he intended not to satisfy her desires quickly but to arouse them to an excruciating pitch, to leave her suspended in a state of eager frustration and then to drive her even higher. As she whispered his name pleadingly, she felt the faint brush of his teeth against the tautness of her breast, and though the light nip seemed to be accidental, her entire body jerked in reaction. Farther down on her midriff she felt his teeth catch oh-so-gently at her skin again, and this time his hands were there to restrain her startled quiver.

“What are you trying to do to me?” she moaned, and was met only with his silence as he let his mouth drift across the softness of her stomach. His tongue dipped into the shallow depression of her navel, causing her to draw her knees up slightly in a response of selfprotection. Suddenly his hands were parting her thighs, his warm, silken mouth beginning to travel below her navel, and as Rosalie realized what he intended to do, she began to struggle in alarm, a queer shock running through her.

“Rand, don’t! You can’t possibly mean to . . . oh, Rand …”

Immediately he perceived the cause of her distress. Lifting his head from her abdomen, Rand gathered her into his arms to subdue her agitation, his mouth suddenly curving with a mixture of dismay and tender amusement.

“Rosalie,” he said, his mouth searching gently through the curls that lay damply on her forehead, “you’re so lovely . . . I didn’t mean to frighten you. Petite fleur, I only want to give you pleasure. Let me—”

“No,” she said in a sobbing breath.

“Sweet, there’s nothing wrong about—”

“Rand, I wouldn’t be able to face you afterward . . . knowing that you had . . .” Her face flamed with embarrassment, and Rand chuckled softly.

“What an innocent you are, Rose.” His hand traveled down the smooth line of her thigh to her bu**ocks, and he hesitated before relenting unwillingly. “For now you win . . . but someday there won’t be an inch of your body that I haven’t tasted.” His voice was smothered as he kissed her throat, his hands wandering possessively over her skin. As Rosalie became aware of their na**d flesh pressing together, it seemed that she was bathed in fire. She lifted her lips to his, blindly seeking until she felt the velvet press of his kiss once more. Their mouths moved together differently than before, in a faint but unmistakable rhythm. “Little witch,” Rand muttered, his voice muffled against her lips, “let’s see how curious you are now.” He took her hand and pulled it down to his hips, placing her fingers against his toughly muscled abdomen in an invitation to explore.

Quivering, Rosalie took up the challenge and let her fingers slip from his smooth, flat stomach to his manhood. She felt awkward, clumsy, and shy, but overwhelming curiosity prompted her to explore him as intimately as he had touched her. He was full and hot, and surprisingly silky, and gradually her hesitancy disappeared as she stroked the demanding hardness and heard his breathing rasp in his chest.

“Rand?” she whispered, in wonder that her touch could affect him so, and he shook his head slightly. “I want you too much. No more,” he groaned, and then her knees separated to accommodate his large body as he settled between her legs. A dizzying, profound gratification surged through her as he entered her slowly, the compacted muscles of his arms flexing. Rosalie felt a slight strain as her body stretched to welcome him, and then she shuddered with the overwhelming sense of completeness that they had shared once before. He thrust into her with a low growl of need, his movements urgent, the rhythm of wings beating on warm air, sweeping her aloft until the culmination of their passion became a resplendent moment of perfection, too pure, too stark to bear for longer than a moment. Then, as she fell, his arms were there to hold her, his body there to shelter her from all that dared to encroach upon the fantasies that saturated the ebony night.