He heeled the door closed; the sharp snap as it shut echoed through the room.
It was a large, airy chamber; that was all she managed to gather as he swiftly carried her across it. To the large bed.
Again, she waited to be set down—again, he surprised her. Effortlessly, he raised her, and tossed her onto the coverlet.
She gasped—gasped again as he joined her, as his weight landing beside her made her bounce—and roll toward him. He helped her along, one large hand wrapping about her hip and pulling her flush against him. With his other hand he framed her face, held her still as his head came down and he covered her lips with his.
Fire. It poured from him into her, and ignited her starving senses. His lips moved on hers; he pressed her into the bed, and his tongue filled her mouth. No languor this time, just a burning, driving need that had her reaching for him, pulling him down to her, sinking her fingers into his shoulders, then spreading them, grasping his clothes, wanting—needing—to feel his body under her hungry hands.
He knew, understood. He drew back enough to shrug off his jacket; still trapped in the kiss, eyes closed, she searched and found the buttons of his waistcoat, frantically undid them. Then she pushed the halves wide and slid her hands over the fine linen of his shirt—over the hard ridged muscles beneath, up over the heavy planes of his chest.
Her touch—the heat of it, the flagrant greedy hunger of her fingers—distracted Michael. Eyes closed, sunk in savoring the wonders of her mouth, he paused…
She froze. Stopped. Suddenly hesitant.
He tore his mouth from hers. Groaned, “For God’s sake, don’t stop.” Then he plunged back into the rich honeyed pleasures of her mouth—and felt her hands attack him again.
Felt her need of him in a flagrantly animalistic way.
Then she found the hem of his shirt where it had come loose from his breeches, and slipped her hands—first one, then the other—beneath.
Touched him. Spread her greedy little fingers wide and tactilely devoured him. He could barely believe the heat, the intensity of the desire she sent raging through him with each evocative touch.
Each evocative claiming.
For it was that. He wasn’t sure she knew it, but he did. In the distant corner of his brain that still functioned, he knew, even as he groaned and urged her on, that he was surrendering—giving himself to her—that he would give whatever she needed to sate her.
Her hunger ran deep—deeper than he’d realized. He sensed it, sensed her response, her powerful yearning, through their kiss. They both held to the kiss avidly, their anchor, their most assured means of communication in a world suddenly full of heated longing that had reduced, drawn in to the limits of their tightly focused senses.
Riding the urgency of her unfurling desire, he mentally groaned and held his own back, let her take the first bite, at least enough to slake the edge from her appetite.
He managed to shrug out of his waistcoat; hands between them, he undid his cravat, then flung it away. Blindly groped, caught enough of his shirt to wrestle it up, then broke from the kiss to drag it off over his head.
She surged up, pressing him back to the bed; he dropped the shirt over the side, gasping, eyes closing the better to savor the feverish urgency of her touch, the way she spread her hands over his bare chest, fingers flexing, searching—as if he were hers and she was intent on possessing him.
He had no argument with her direction.
Opening his eyes, he studied her face, saw delight and something close to wonder in her expression. The sight made him ache. Then she lifted her gaze and her eyes met his. Molten silver, burning bright, then she veiled them, lowered her gaze to his lips.
He urged her more fully atop him; she obliged, then without further encouragement bent her head and set her lips to his.
He was waiting for her, waiting to draw her back deep into the kiss, to anchor her there, caught in the swirling, building heat of interlocking desires, while he set his fingers to her laces.
She drew back briefly to unwind her scarf, then sent it to join his shirt on the floor. His hand firming in the mass of her soft hair, he drew her back down, tongue thrusting boldly, finding and enticing hers, capturing her senses, holding her attention deep in the kiss as he skillfully eased her gown from her.
When he finally drew it free and it, too, hit the floor, he could no longer hold back his own need to touch her, to spread his hands over the lithe curves, to trace the sleek lines of her body with his palms. To fill his senses with her. To learn as she was intent on learning him, to possess as she was intent on possessing him.
She murmured through the kiss; he felt her breath hitch as he closed his hands over her breasts and kneaded. She responded by slanting her mouth over his and pressing deeper, flagrantly inviting. He met her, caught her nipples and squeezed, until her attention splintered and she gasped. Releasing her breasts, still holding her to their kiss, he boldly slid his hands down, proprietorially tracing her sides, her hips, to reach beneath the hem of her chemise and caress the globes of her bottom. He reveled in the dewed flush that sprang to his touch, at the urgency that rose and coursed through her.
She shifted upon him provocatively, quite deliberately teasing his aching erection. Not taunting, but with her sleek thighs exploring its contours, shifting hips and legs to sinuously stroke him.
He nearly broke, but caught his reins in time to remind himself they had hours. Even more than the two he’d promised himself. There was time to play, to savor. And there would be only one first time.
Spearing one hand into the glory of her hair, he anchored her head and kissed her. As ravenously as he—and she—wished, as blatantly, wantonly, primitively evocative as they both desired.
No rush.
He took his time savoring her mouth anew, feeding from her, stoking their passion as, with slow deliberation, he explored her body. Found each hollow and stroked, traced, searched for each point where her nerves fluttered, where any touch, however light, made her breath catch. High on the backs of her thighs—she was excruciatingly sensitive there. The undersides of her breasts, too. Inch by inch, he eased her chemise up, until finally he broke from the kiss and drew the fine garment over her head.
The instant it was free he let it fall where it would, caught her and rolled, pressing her back to the bed, leaning over her, hand splaying over her midriff, holding her down as he sank deeply into her mouth, then drew back.
And looked at the treasure he’d uncovered. Discovered.
At the feminine beauty of lithe limbs and svelte curves encased in ivory silk already delicately flushed with desire.
Wits barely engaged, breathless, Caro watched his face as he examined her body. Saw the austere planes tighten as with his hand he almost reverently sculpted her flesh. Her nerves tightened with an anticipation more delicious than she’d imagined. She felt on the brink of shivering, yet she wasn’t cold.
It was a glorious midsummer afternoon; the window was open—a balmy breeze wafted in to caress them. To add its gentle warmth to the heat already pulsing so hotly within her. And him.
He was burning. For her.
She raised a hand, gently traced the harsh, almost graven lines of his face. His gaze deflected for one moment to her eyes, then he turned his head and pressed a kiss to her palm. Desire glowed in his eyes, turning the soft blue more solid, more intense. It was passion that etched his face, that hardened its lines as he returned his attention to her body.
To drawing fire beneath her skin, with each increasingly intimate caress pulling her deeper into the vortex of her own hungry desire, tempting her need—a need only he had ever evoked. She watched his face, watched his concentration as he loved her, clung to that evidence of his commitment to their goal. The tension investing his large body, which had tightened his muscles to bands of steel, which she could feel through her fingers locked on his shoulder, likewise reassured. Then he bent and took one already ruched nipple into his mouth, and suckled. Deeply.