Where Passion Leads (Berkeley-Faulkner #1)(89)

“Are you certain that this is . . . ?” Rosalie began tremulously, her voice fading away in sudden doubt. She felt a tiny inner shock waver through her body as she realized where they were and exactly what they were doing. Most people, she was sure, did not make love out-of-doors on the ground like savages . . . it was uncivilized. What would Rand think of her afterward for allowing him to do this when—?

“Shhh . . . don’t be afraid,” he was saying, his lips hot against her skin, his voice husky with desire. “Nothing between us could be wrong,” he whispered, his fingers easing under her chemise. “I would never hurt you . . . ah, sweet, don’t think anymore, let me love you. . . .” His words, his hands, had a peculiarly hypnotic effect on her, driving everything out except her awareness of him. His fingers combed through the curls at the juncture of her thighs, caressed her inner thighs and urged them to spread apart. Then slowly his body eased downward, and she tried uneasily to shrink away from him. “No, love,” Rand murmured, his hands clasping her h*ps steadily. “Don’t hold yourself from me . trust me.” He caressed the hard, tense length of her legs and then shifted so that they were hooked over his shoulders. His masculinity throbbed hotly, his passion flaring as he stared down at the dainty feminine flesh. “Let me,” he said hoarsely, and she relaxed slightly although her hands were clenched in agitation. He lowered his golden head.

At the first gentle, moist touch of his mouth she cried out, reacting sharply to the quaking pleasure that seared through her body. His lips opened wider, his tongue searching the fragile, swelling nakedness. It was like a kiss, and yet not quite a kiss. Rand groaned, and the vibration of the sound sent a corresponding vibration through her body. Rosalie’s senses careened wildly. Her eyes flickered open for just an instant, the image of his amber-shaded head between her thighs branded across her mind forever. Slowly his mouth moved and stroked, centering on a tiny cluster of nerves that increased in sensitivity until her limbs were stiff from pleasure. She gasped his name, suddenly drowning in painful ecstasy. Through her plummeting release the hands cupping her bu**ocks pulled her more closely against his mouth. His lips did not leave her until the last tremors had died into glowing embers, and only then did Rand lever his body back over hers.

Her face was moist, her translucent skin flushed with gentle color. Rosalie lifted her heavy lashes to stare at him with unfocused brilliant blue eyes. He kissed her, his mouth tinged with a sweet, musky flavor. She responded unhesitatingly, her head tilting so that their lips could fit together more intimately. Languidly her fingers moved to the fastenings of his breeches, slipping the buttons from their moorings until the garment gaped open. Rand shuddered, using his knees to spread her legs. He held his breath as he pressed into her slowly, feeling the tightness of her aroused flesh pull him deeper through her body. For a moment he was still and silent, grasping at the shreds of his control. There was no way for him to describe the sensation of possessing her, for the experience was unique. Emotion was layered with physical sensation—sex had become a matter of instinct, of feelings rather than technique. Even with all his experience, it had never been like this before. Cradling her head in one broad hand, he thrust into her, watching her eyes dilate with pleasure. Then he thrust again, more strongly this time, the action simple, monumental. As he kissed her he felt her lips tremble against his.

“Bend your knees more,” he whispered. Rosalie obeyed, and gasped as she felt him push even deeper within her. Then he moved without stopping, sharply, urgently. She looked up at him, her eyes flashing like sapphires as she stared at his face, which had been carved by passion into sharp planes. Her h*ps lifted, her toes curled, and then Rosalie was racked with an exquisite sensation that skipped tenderly over her body, like a pebble skimming the surface of smooth water. Rand gritted his teeth, his body tight and still in the moments before he shuddered, his breath releasing gradually. As the pleasure of their joining smoothed into a slow current, they relaxed in a damp tangle, hands lazily stroking, soothing, caressing, the aftermath as exquisitely sweet as the passion that had preceded. Lazily Rand raised himself on an elbow and looked down at her with drowsy green-shaded eyes.

“It’s worth going away, to be welcomed home like that,” he said huskily.

She let a long moment of silence drift between them before speaking. “Rand . . . how is it going to be between us from now on?” Rosalie asked softly, her brow creasing.

He smoothed her forehead with his lips, ending with a kiss at her temple. “We’ve had this discussion before,” he stated flatly, “and as you’ll recall, it didn’t end very well. Since we both appear to have conflicting ideas about the long-range status of our relationship, we’ll have to take it day by day.”

“But sooner or later we’ll have to—”

“It can be later. Before we make any decisions, there are other loose ends to be tied up.”

“I . . Yes, I agree,” Rosalie said. She had firsthand knowledge of how quickly someone’s life could change, how easily fate could turn the world upside down and shake it vigorously. The only thing she could be certain of was that her life would never return to what it had once been . . . and perhaps she should be grateful for that. “But we still have an immediate problem,” she pointed out.

“What’s that?” he asked, a curious smile playing on his lips.

She looked at the grass stains on their rumpled clothing, on the right knee of his breeches, ground into the fabric of her dress and the material of his shirt.