Page 65 of The Lady is Trouble
He whispered in a guttural admission that floated across her nipple, “I don’t want…to hurt you.”
She glanced down the minuscule space separating their bodies to see him touching himself, a long glide of curved fingers. Once and back again.My, how she wanted her hand there, her mouth, if he’d allow it. Another lesson she would negotiate. When she met his scorching gaze, something in hers must have transferred, because he swore roughly—his lids slipping low as he adjusted himself at her entrance.
“Slow…okay, Yank?” he rasped and began to fill her in the most minute increments when she wanted him to plunge to the hilt. Possess,penetrate. Crude desire when the physical overwhelmed the mental, caught in an uncontrollable frenzy of need. A jab of discomfort swept her as he slid forward, but the pain was carried away by increasing bursts of pleasured fullness.
It was as if he took a feather and stroked it across every sensitive inch of her; she was consumed from within, inflamed and reactive. Parts he claimed as his own. Lips at her breast; hand at the nape of her neck; at her hip, angling her pelvis high until he settled so thoroughly in her, and with such a feeling of completion, she experienced a second of unease.
A jolt of jealousy tore through her; he’d learned so much without her.
Going on instinct, she grasped his buttocks and met him as he slid deeper—and deeper still. It took mere moments to find the ideal fit and rhythm, the soft strike of their skin ringing through the moonlit room. This success led to an elemental parry and thrust, at first gentle, then increasing in urgency as they lunged together.
Groaning low in his throat, Julian’s lips covered hers as he kissed her with reckless abandon, his sounds of gratification increasing her own. His scent mixed with hers, the combined fragrance falling like a blanket over them.
She gasped as he shifted his hips, hitting a hidden pleasure center. “Yes,that,” she urged, the bliss so intense she could not maintain their kiss. She tucked her head in the crook of his neck and issued a plea against his damp skin. “Again.” A moan broke free as he complied, her body rising off the mattress in response.
He lifted to his elbow, the muscles in his back jumping beneath her hands. His breath charged from his lips in a series of rapid pants. She scraped her nails lightly from shoulder to buttock and felt him shudder beneath the touch. Words were lost, thought abating like smoke in a fierce wind.
With almost cruel leisure, he withdrew to the tip—all the while staring at her with an expression of absolute intensity—then returned in a punishing glide. “Come with me,” he said in a voice as hoarse as she’d ever heard it, “I’ll be…right here.”
Over and over, he stroked, never going as hard or as fast as she directed, begged for, but God in heaven, the way he moved, the way he used her body....
Redolent sighs. Friction. Slick skin.
Flesh entangled.
For as long as she could, she stared into his beautiful eyes, flecks of amber, stars immersed in solid bands of silver.
Adrift, boneless, untethered to everything in the world save for him.
Then it was simply too much, and she broke into pieces.
He swallowed her moan as he captured her lips, his lids sweeping low the last thing she saw before she crested, her body bowing off the bed and into him. Ecstasy rushed through her, as shocking as plunging in a chilled pond. Tantalizing and unparalleled. Pleasure—and intimacy—she’d not imagined existed. Incoherent, she clutched him as he broke into a harder rhythm, her body scooting up the bed with the force of his thrusts.
She realized he was close and that, with his slight withdrawal, he meant to leave her. “No,” she uttered on a panicked breath as he leaned over her body, a savage groan ripping from his throat. Her hands rising to cup his face, she pleaded, “Stay.”
“Piper,” he whispered as his eyes met hers, unfocused, his dark pupils swallowing the space.
She swept aside the damp hair hanging in his face. “Let go. I’m right here.”
The words touched some part of him, and his lashes fluttered, his body trembled. Then with a final thrust, he let his weight fall atop her, not fully, but with enough pressure to crowd her quite wonderfully into the thick bedding. His brow went to her shoulder, his lips a scalding press against her collarbone as he blew noisy breaths through them. She supported his broad body without issue, the feeling of entrapment exhilarating.
A gust of wind ripped through the window, dusting over her heated skin. In the distance, the sound of thunder rumbled. It had begun to rain, a steady cadence striking the panes. She had never felt more replete, as sure of, or in touch with, her body.
It was strange, lying there, naked limbs twisted about another’s, visible as never before, but it also was quite…natural. Quite marvelous.
She could imagine no better way to see into one’s soul.
Or expose your own.
This awareness brought a measure of trepidation.
As if he knew, Julian pressed a languid kiss to the hollow of her throat and rolled to his back. Hooking his arm under her shoulders, he brought her to his side and let his chin fall to the crown of her head. She nestled into the hard planes of his body, seeking his warmth against the sudden chill, listening to the patter of rain and their muted breaths.
Why, an entire world existed inside this small bedchamber.
“I have one question.” She traced the scar on his shoulder. Her stitches had not been the most even, true, but the jagged mark only added to his masculine splendor. “A simple one.”
A dark eyebrow swept high as his lips slid into a loose smile. His hand began a lazy caress at her waist. “What a surprise,” he said in a satisfied voice. He was the epitome of the contented male, sprawled out there beside her.