There was only one way he could think of to get any closer.
He lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed, shoving the heavy curtains open before lowering her onto her back.
She extended a hand, catching his fingers and pulling him down on top of her.
Balancing his weight on his forearms, he dipped his head to capture her soft, willing lips.
He wanted her so badly he could taste it, but he was determined to take it slow. This moment he had waited for all his life was too important to rush through.
Her hands slid under the tail of his plaid to follow the length of his leg, stopping only when one petal-soft finger stroked against the heat of his inner thigh. He sent a silent thanks to every supernatural being he could think of for the invention of the plaid. Had he only known, he would have been wearing them his whole life.
Slow and easy,he reminded himself, kissing a trail down the side of her neck, nuzzling aside the neckline of her dress to trace his tongue over the soft skin of her shoulder. His good intentions almost deserted him when her finger moved again, forging a path around his leg to brush against his swollen manhood.
A quick count of ten, backward, and he pulled at the neck of her dress, almost frantic in his efforts until her own movements allowed the cloth to slip down, revealing one perfect breast.
His mouth settled on the exposed treasure and he circled his tongue around the hardened nipple, his breath catching as she moaned and lifted her body against his.
It must have been a woman who designed these dresses. A man would have invented a snap-front micromini rather than the yards and yards of frustrating fabric that encased Christiana’s body.
“Wait,” she demanded, her warm fingers deserting the heat of his body.
He froze, one hand wrapped in what felt like fifty yards of linen separating him from where he wanted to be. Disappointment raged with the need to ignore her, but his better angels prevailed.
She wiggled enticingly beneath him and he counted again, backward from twenty this time.
“Better now,” she whispered, pressing herself to him, her gloriously naked skin burning into his.
His better angels, thoroughly rewarded for their honorable behavior, took flight, giving way to pure need.
THE FIRE INher belly raged out of control, turning all rational thought to instant cinders. Nothing mattered as much as extinguishing that fire.
Orabilis had told her there was only one way to accomplish that.
She knew the mechanics involved, even though she’d not experienced it herself. She’d seen animals mating. And she wasn’t completely without knowledge of what passed between men and women.
When she was younger, she’d overheard her father’s soldiers discuss their prowess at swiving, bragging about the tarse that hung between theirlegs, and the pleasure they’d brought some maiden in bending her over a table to shove that member into her womb while pulsing out the seed that might create new life.
None of that had sounded particularly pleasurable to her then, so what she’d expected was nothing like the immense pleasure she felt with Chase’s hot, wet mouth fastened to her breast. His tongue moved in rapid little flickers across her nipple, creating the most wondrous sensations that rippled through her whole body.
The soldiers must not have known how to do this correctly, because Chase’s every touch only seemed to set the fire in her belly burning brighter.
Chase’s hand slowly smoothed a path down her side, leaving a trail of chill bumps rising in its wake and creating a sensation in her loins that threatened her sanity.
Once again she slid her hand down to Chase’s tarse, trailing one finger from its base to its tip. It was large and stiff and velvety smooth, not at all like she’d imagined. She closed her fingers around it and slid her hand upward. As she stroked it, it twitched as if it had a life all its own.
Chase groaned at her touch, his breath hot against her breast until he lifted his head and cold air covered the spot where his mouth had been.
She waited, every fiber of her body so sensitive even the breeze created when he pulled his shirt over his head felt like a caress.
When he lay back down next to her, her heart pounded in her chest. This was it.
Wasn’t it?
Again he bent his head to her breast, his tongue forging a path from her throbbing nipples down the center of her stomach as his hands caressed her waist before sliding down to grasp her hips.
He spread her legs apart and fit himself on the top of her, the heavy heat of his manhood pressing against her delicate warmth.
As if her body had a mind of its own, her legs tensed, fighting to bring her knees together.