She thought she would die from the raw ecstasy his touch evoked. Her hips began to move against his hand, until the feeling became too intense for her to bear. She tried to move his hand away from her then.
Harrison was shaking with his need. The damp heat surrounding his fingers took the last of his control away. He kissed her again, a long, hot, wet kiss, and when he finally pulled back, he realized her hand was wrapped around his wrist and she was trying to get him to move away from the heat he most wanted to possess.
He lifted her into his arms, pulled the covers back, and placed her on the bed. And then he took his pants off. He was desperately trying to pretend he hadn't run out of endurance. He was overwhelmed by his need to thrust inside her and let her tight walls surround him, squeeze him, love him, but he knew he was going to have to gain her cooperation first. She was beginning to have second thoughts now. He knew what had caused the change in her. He also knew exactly what she was thinking.
The love of his life was staring at his erection.
"It's going to be all right," he promised, his voice harsh with passion. "We were made to fit each other, baby."
She shook her head and started to get up. Her breathing was choppy with her passion, but her fear was making her panic.
He didn't give her any more time to feed her fear. He trapped her in bed by stretching out beside her and anchoring her down with his thigh. He took hold of her hands, forced them around his neck so that she would stop trying to get him to move away from her and then leaned down to kiss her.
He had to chase after her mouth. She turned her head away from him into the pillow, but his soothing words of love finally calmed her enough to look at him again.
Her eyes were still hazy with passion, and he knew it wouldn't take him long to rekindle the fire inside her.
"Will you trust me, love? Let me kiss you once more. If you still want to stop, I promise we will."
He didn't add the fact that he wasn't going to stop until he was fully imbedded inside her, unless she started to struggle against him. God help him, he would stop then, even if it killed him, and he found himself praying he wouldn't have to.
She had to think about his offer before she finally agreed. If he hadn't been in such pain, he would have thought the disgruntled expressions humorous. He was throbbing with his need now, however, and all he could think about was sinking deep inside her.
"One kiss," she whispered.
"One kiss," he promised again.
"You're going to like this, sweetheart. Honest to God you are."
She didn't look like she believed him. He wasn't at all deterred by her attitude. "Open your mouth for me, baby," he whispered in a growl just a second before he took absolute possession. She tightened her hold around his neck and pulled him closer to her, and when she began to kiss him back with just as much passion, he knew she was forgetting all about being afraid.
He wooed her for long minutes with his mouth and his hands, until she was once again moving against him restlessly, and he could feel the tension growing inside her.
His hand moved down between her thighs to help her get ready for him. He shuddered with a surge of pleasure when he felt the wetness there on his fingertips. He caressed her silky folds, then slowly pressed up inside. He knew exactly where to touch her to get her to come apart in his arms.
She couldn't fight the splendor he forced on her. She began to writhe against him, but still he continued with the sweet torment. Her nails scored his shoulders and she whimpered low in her throat.
He couldn't wait any longer. He kept his mouth firmly on top of hers while he nudged her legs apart and moved between her thighs. He lifted her hips and slowly moved inside her. He stopped when he felt the thin layer of her resistance, closed his eyes in blissful surrender, and then thrust deep.
He felt as though he'd just died and gone to heaven.
She felt as though he'd just torn her apart. Searing pain shot through her. She cried out against the invasion and tried to get away from him. He wouldn't budge. He deliberately kept her pinned down with his weight.
"Try not to move, sweetheart. Just hold on to me until the pain leaves. Soon, baby, soon. It's going to feel better. I love you, Mary Rose. Oh, God, baby, don't cry."
He sounded devastated because he'd hurt her, and that realization actually helped to ease her pain. It wasn't completely unbearable now, but she still didn't much like the dull throbbing sensation.
Passion warred with her discomfort. She couldn't seem to make sense out of anything right now. Was she actually supposed to like this?
He didn't understand the torment she was going through. He was desperately trying to give her time to accept him, but his own consuming need to move inside her was becoming unbearable. Holding back was agonizing. He could feel her tight walls surrounding him, squeezing him. It was the most excruciatingly wonderful feeling, and God help him, if he didn't move soon, it would be too late. He would pour his seed into her with a primitive shout of surrender.
He rebelled against the glorious self-gratification. She was going to experience the same fulfillment, no matter how long it took.
His brow was covered with a sheen of perspiration, his jaw was clenched tight, and his heart was slamming inside his chest. He buried his face in her neck and began to nibble on her earlobe. "Is it starting to feel better, sweetheart?"
She could hear the worry in his voice. She instinctively wanted to comfort him, to tell him he hadn't killed her, that it would be all right.
"I'm feeling fine now," she whispered in a voice that mocked the lie she gave.
To show him she meant what she said, she put her arms around him again and began to stroke his back. He shuddered against her and let out a low groan. And so she caressed him again. She could feel the tension in him and knew it was taking a tremendous amount of self-control for him to stay still inside her. The consideration he was showing her made her pain and discomfort insignificant. "I don't want to disappoint you."
He braced his weight on his arms and lifted up to look at her. "You could never disappoint me. I love you, sweetheart."
She was overwhelmed by the tenderness. "It's much better now. I can endure it. You don't have to wait any longer."
He surprised her with his smile. "Endure?" he asked. "We'll see about that, love."
She pulled him down to kiss her, and when he lifted his head again, he was damned thankful to see the passion was back in her gaze.
He knew that very little time had actually passed since he'd planted himself deep inside her, but the raging demand in his body made him feel as if it had been an eternity.
The intensity in his expression aroused the passion simmering inside her.
"Tell me what to do. I want to please you."
"You do please me. Bring your legs up real slow, baby, so I can…" His groan made speech impossible for him. The pleasure he'd received when she began to move made his control snap.
She'd expected pain, but when she drew her legs up, she felt an altogether different sensation.
The intensity of the feeling made her want more. She moved again, felt another burst of pleasure, and tightened her arms around him. It really did feel better.
"It feels good, doesn't it? And this time, tell me the truth."
He sounded as though he were in agony. "Yes," she whispered. "I still don't feel like thanking you though."
God, how he loved her.
He told her to wrap her legs around him, then shifted his position and sank deeper inside.
Neither one of them could speak again. He pulled back, then surged deep once again. He wanted to take it slow and easy, to drive her completely out of her mind with pleasure, but she was so incredibly tight and hot, and it felt so damned good to be inside her, his need to quicken the pace took control of his actions now, and it was impossible for him to think about going slow or trying to be gentle. Hell, he couldn't think at all. He could only feel.