Love in the Vineyard (Tavonesi #7)(47)
He slipped his hand from hers and scooped her into his arms, fully expecting her to protest. If she had, he would’ve released her. But instead her tongue drove deeper, shocking the truth home. She wanted him as much as he wanted her.
Keeping the contact of their kiss, he navigated the stairs and then kicked open the door to his bedroom. And though he didn’t want to break their kiss, he set Natasha on her feet.
His normally well-ordered room looked like a disaster area. His riding clothes were strewn across the floor along with the work clothes he’d doffed before he’d jumped into the shower.
“I apologize for the state of my room; it’s not always such a mess. I wasn’t expecting company.”
He couldn’t have said anything more perfect. That he hadn’t planned for her to end up in his bedroom made the moment more precious. And less scary. He hadn’t plotted to seduce her. The edge of apprehension she’d had to swallow down in order to make her bold move at the sink and kiss him eased.
But an awkward silence fell between them.
He took her hands in his. “Natasha, I want to make love to you. With every cell in my body and every breath, I want to make love to you. But I need to hear for certain that’s what you want too.”
She pulled one hand away and buried her fingers in the dark curls at the base of his neck.
“Adrian, stop talking and kiss me.”
He whispered her name as he pressed his hand to the small of her back and drew her to him. Their lips met, and some of her chattering thoughts stilled as she surrendered to the strange and wonderful ecstasy of his kiss. As his tongue teased hers, it was as though he was freeing her from the cords of shame that had bound her for as long as she could remember—cords that had imprisoned her and kept her from feeling anything hopeful. She’d heard the word grace all her life but hadn’t known its true meaning until now. Suddenly she craved to feel his skin against hers, to feel his heart beat against her breasts. To hold him. And never forget the feeling. She broke off their kiss and with fumbling, shaking fingers began to unbutton her shirt.
“Let me,” he said with the velvet tones she heard every night in her dreams.
He undid the top buttons. Cool air touched her skin, followed by pure heat as his fingertips traced her collarbone. He lowered his head and tracked kisses down her neck while he worked the rest of her buttons free. He peeled her shirt down and dropped it to the carpet. Her heart pounded when his palms curved along her waist and up her ribcage. He unfastened her bra and tossed it away. She inhaled and closed her eyes as he cupped her breasts and brushed his thumbs across her aching nipples.
“My God, Natasha. What you do to me.”
She opened her eyes at his wavering tone. His lips crushed hers. This was no gentle kiss. She met his thrusting tongue with a hunger of her own. Like a dragon unleashed, power surged in her, and she tore at his T-shirt.
With a moan, he broke off the kiss. She watched his muscles ripple in his arms as he pulled the shirt over his head.
She had to touch his carved abdomen, to trace the thin line of dusky hair that disappeared into his jeans. To feel him under her palms. To touch so that she would always remember this night, for certainly there could be no others. Her hand stilled at his belt buckle but then roved lower to the throbbing proof of his desire. Unable to resist, she stroked the length of him.
He snatched her hand away, his fingers circling her wrist with firm yet gentle force. It had never occurred to her that force could be gentle and alluring. That she’d crave the power it promised.
“If you do that one more time,” Adrian practically growled, “I won’t be able to give you the pleasure I’ve dreamed of since the night we first met.”
So she hadn’t been alone in her dreaming. Maybe some dreams could be trusted.
He lifted her and laid her across the bed. Bending over her, he tracked hot, branding kisses from her neck to the space between her breasts. Her body arched when he took a nipple into his mouth and teased and sucked and made her cry out his name.
She was even more lost when he teased the other nipple, suckling until she forgot where she was. Forgot all but the man at her breast and the pulsing passion rushing through her. Desire surged as the heat of his palm branded her belly. But when he slid his hand under the waist of her jeans and his fingers stroked her sex, pleasure, need, want and dreams rushed together, melding in a wave that took her breath, dissolved her thoughts and engulfed her in a vast sea of merciless sensation.
“Float, Natasha… let me please you.”
His words drew her back. But when she opened her eyes and met his gaze, she knew there was no shore to swim to, no safe place to find shelter from the desire he’d set coursing in her body.
His lips quirked up, first one corner and then the other. She struggled to school her features and respond to his devastating smile, fought to find words to hold on to as the current he’d loosened threatened to carry her away. He was right. There were languages and ways of communicating that had nothing to do with words. And she was lost in the sea of messages and meanings she’d never dreamed could come to life in her.
He moved to kneel at the side of the bed, keeping one palm on her abdomen as if to hold her down, to keep her from flying up, from flying away. With his other hand he eased her jeans down her thighs and pulled them off. Her breath caught as he lifted her legs to straddle his shoulders. He bent down and the heat of his mouth seared through the fabric of her panties. Suddenly self-conscious, she tried to pull her legs off his shoulders, but his forearms clamped her legs in place.