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“Ethan,” she murmured, leaning back to look at him, “I’ve never felt that way before.”
His eyes darkened with some emotion she couldn’t decipher. “The pleasure was mine.”
“Not entirely, I assure you.”
A hint of humor whispered over his features, then he raised his hands and slipped the pins from her chignon.
“Your hair is beautiful,” he said, slowly sifting his fingers through the strands. “Just like the rest of you.” He stepped back, and his gaze raked over her with barely suppressed hunger. “So beautiful,” he murmured, cupping her breasts, his fingers lightly tugging her nipples, eliciting a low moan of pleasure from her. She leaned into him, then gasped when he lowered his head to draw one tight nipple into his mouth.
“This is hardly fair,” she said, arching her back, offering more of herself. “I want to see you, touch you as well, Ethan.”
At her words, he gave her nipple one last long lick, then lifted his head. “Very well,” he said, raising her hands to his shirt. “Undress me.”
She immediately applied unsteady fingers to the fastening on his shirt. She fumbled a bit and forced aside her nervousness that she would fail to please him as she’d failed to please her husband. As if he’d read her thoughts, he said, “There is nothing you could do that will displease me, Cassie. You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. The softest I’ve ever touched. Believe me when I say that it is only by exerting an extreme amount of will that I am keeping myself from devouring you. Even so, my control is severely tested.”
A dark thrill raced through her at his admission, and she pulled his shirt open. “I don’t want you in control,” she said, skimming her hands over the hardened slopes of his chest. His body was that of a laborer, thick with muscle, browned from the sun-strong, masculine, and profoundly arousing. Dark hair dusted the broad expanse of sun-kissed skin, narrowing to a dusky ribbon that bisected his torso, a silken trail her fingers itched to explore.
She breathed in and savored his scent. He smelled of soap and clean linen and, just as he always had, deliciously of adventure. The mere sight of him made her feel daring and reckless, and giddy with a sense of boldness that, despite its unfamiliarity, couldn’t be denied.
Dragging her gaze back up to his, she said, “I want to be devoured. I want to feel. Everything. I want to touch. All of you.”
His eyes darkened, and with her help, he shrugged out of his shirt. Stepping closer to him, she pressed her lips to the center of his chest, then dragged her open mouth to his nipple. She suckled him softly, absorbing the hard beat of his heart against her palm and the growl vibrating from his throat. Her hands moved lower, over his abdomen, her fingers tracing, investigating the captivating ripples of hard muscle and that alluring ribbon of dark hair that cut down the middle of his torso. When her hands reached his breeches, she raised her head. “I want these off, Ethan.”
She stepped back and watched him remove his clothing, first his boots, then his snug breeches. When he finally stood before her naked, her mouth went dry at the sight of him. That enthralling ribbon of hair continued lower, spreading at the apex of his thighs where his arousal jutted forward, thick and fascinating. His legs were long and powerful, and his entire body appeared tensed with expectation.
She walked slowly around him, halting when she stood behind him, her gaze riveted to the scarred skin on his back.
“This is from the fire?” she asked softly, coasting her fingers over the pale, puckered marks.
“Yes.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her cheek against the old injury, then sprinkled gentle kisses over every bit of it she could reach. “It must have hurt terribly,” she whispered between kisses, her heart aching for what he’d suffered. “I’m so sorry.”
“It doesn’t hurt anymore.”
After pressing a last lingering kiss to his back, she moved to stand in front of him once again. Reaching out, she brushed her fingers over the head of his erection, and he sucked in a harsh breath. “You are extremely well made, Ethan. So very strong.”
He swallowed, hard, and she basked in the hunger that darkened his eyes, flushed his skin.
“I’m not feeling very strong right now,” he said, his voice resembling a low growl.
“Oh? How do you feel?”
“Conquered.”
She wrapped her fingers around his arousal and gently squeezed. His eyes slammed shut. “Vanquished,” he whispered.
“Do you want me to stop?” she asked, repeating his earlier question.
“No. God, no. Don’t stop.”
She couldn’t suppress the smile of pure feminine satisfaction that curved her lips at his rough tone. “If you insist,” she murmured, and stroked her fingers down his length, exploring every inch of the taut flesh, first with one hand, then two, cupping and stroking him, becoming bolder and more confident with each of his increasingly ragged breaths.
A long groan escaped him, and he tipped his head back and squeezed his eyes shut. “You ca
When she dragged a single fingertip through the pearly drop glistening at the tip of his erection, spreading the warm wetness over the swollen head, he made a strangled sound, then scooped her up in his arms.
“Can’t take anymore,” he muttered, his eyes all but breathing fire. He laid her down on the counterpane, then climbed onto the bed. He urged her knees apart and knelt between her splayed thighs. Breathing harshly, he reached out and teased her swollen folds, which felt wet and heavy and ached with need. His gaze tracked up her body until their eyes met, then he lowered his body onto hers.
His first stroke was a long, delicious glide that elicited a wordless gasp of wonder, from both the glorious friction and the profound intimacy of his body sliding into hers. When he was buried to the hilt, he stilled for several seconds, and she absorbed the indescribable sensation of him filling her, stretching her. Wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his shoulders, she pulled him tighter against her.
“So this is what passion feels like,” she whispered.
“Yes.” He withdrew nearly all the way, then slowly sank deep once again, a silken caress that ignited the same fire inside her he’d lit earlier. “And this…” Another long, slow stroke, another wet, satiny slide of his body into hers. His smooth thrusts quickened, deepened into driving jolts, each one edging her nearer to release. Her fingers bit into his shoulders, then with a startled cry, she arched beneath him as sweet, hot pulses of pleasure washed through her. She felt his entire body tighten, then, gathering her close, he buried his face in the crook where her neck and shoulders met and he poured himself into her.
When his shudders subsided, he drew in several shaky breaths, then raised his head. Cassandra’s eyes fluttered open. He looked as dazed and sated as she felt, and an aching tenderness pervaded her system.
She rested one hand against his cheek. “So that is what making love feels like.”
He turned his head to kiss her palm. “I’d have to say yes, but in truth I’ve never known it to be like that.”
“Like what?”
“Exquisite.”
He moved, as if he intended to roll off her, and she tightened her arms and legs around him. “Don’t go. The feel of you on me, in me, is, to use your word, exquisite.” Her gaze searched his, then she said softly, “My…relations with Westmore were very…impersonal. He never made love to me as you just did. He considered coming to my bed a chore and merely spilled his seed in me as quickly as he could get it over with in order to beget his heir.”
Unmistakable anger flared in his eyes. “Any man lucky enough to have you who would do less than worship you is an ass,” he stated in an emphatic voice.