29. CHAPTER 29
H e had only come to hold her. To reassure her. Or maybe to reassure himself. But she turned within the circle of his embrace.
"I want you," she said. "Without ropes or games. They are a form of distance for you, are they not? A way to retain some control. But tonight, I don't want the careful, controlled version of you that decides what I'm allowed to have. I want all of you."
He heard what she was not saying. She didn't want to be passive. Managed. It was her way of asserting control over her choices.
In the dark her mouth found his. Bold. Demanding. Her lips parted beneath his in a breathy sound he captured with his own.
He kissed her long and deep, drinking until he could not tell whether he was quenching his thirst or renewing it. He had her and he wanted her in the same breath.
"Val…"
His name, a moan and a plea.
This woman. His woman. The texture of her hair between his fingers, the taste of her on his tongue. He wanted her with a fierceness that frightened him. He tried to rein it in. To give her what she needed without losing himself in the wanting. But he did not control it. It controlled him.
She threw one leg over his, the other circling his waist, cradling his hardness against her. He could feel her heat through the thin fabric of her nightgown and his nightshirt. Two thin layers between him and the place he wanted to be .
Her hands glided over his back in long, restless strokes — soothing him, inflaming him. Then she closed her fists on his shirt and tugged. He helped her, pulling it over his head, and moved lower over her, kissing her neck, sucking on the lobe of her ear.
The nightgown's neckline was too high. Too many buttons.
He could not manage them in his present state.
He took the fabric in both fists and tore.
Buttons scattered. He sat back on his haunches and ripped the rest of it from neck to hem.
Her skin glowed cream in the light of the single candle.
Her breasts, her hips, the dark curls at the apex of her thighs.
His mouth watered. He was so hard it hurt. But at last there was nothing between them now.
She extended a hand toward his chest, opening her palm over his heart, as if she wanted to grasp it. She could have it. It was hers. It had always been hers.
"You are so beautiful," she said.
A huff of a laugh escaped him. "Beautiful? Me? You are the one who is enchanting." He bent down and lay on top of her, kissing around her breasts before he took one stiff peak in his mouth and pulled with just enough strength to make her arch into him.
"Tempting." Another pull, a tweak of his fingers on the other nipple. Another arch of her back, and her legs opened farther. "Ravishing." He moved lower, trailing kisses along her stomach until he got to the place he sought. She was already wet for him, glistening. "Irresistible."
The first contact of his lips with her flesh, and he was lost. Lost in her taste, in the sounds she made, in her fingers in his hair, guiding him.
Tightening when she wanted more. There. Pulling when it was too much, too soon.
He feasted. His tongue working her until she was trembling, inserting one finger, then two, into her.
He flexed them slowly as she rode them — rode his tongue and his fingers until she fell apart on his face with a choked sound.
God, he was hard. He needed to be inside her now. After helping her ride her orgasm to its end, he pushed into her, almost clumsy with need, in one stroke .
He was not delicate. Was not slow or tender. He was too far gone for that. But she didn't retreat. She opened her legs further; her flesh was slick and soft, and it enveloped him in silk and heat.
He paused for a moment. Deep in her. Paused to gather his scattering wits, to slow down the rush of pleasure that threatened to cut this short. One breath. Two. Three. Then he could move.
Her arms reached out and pulled him close. Skin against heated, sweaty skin. Their mouths found each other again. Deep, all-consuming. He was lost in her. And coming home all at once.
He tore his mouth away. It was too much. Bliss this intense could not be safe.
"Val." Her hands, sifting through his hair. Sweeping his back. Pressing down on his arse. The way she said his name undid him every time. But she was not moaning his name in desire. She was calling him. She had something to say.
He looked at her eyes, drowsy with passion and yet clear as they looked into his. Lips parted and swollen from his kisses.
"What, my love?"
"When you are in me like this… it is the only time I feel at home. Safe. Unafraid. Don't let go. Please."
The words almost undid him. Something gave way in his chest. A slow, hot loosening he had no name for.
"Never."
It was a promise. A vow. Not only because she asked, but because every part of him demanded it as well.
"Never. Never."
He drove into her. Hard and deep. Angling his hips to find the spot that made her breath hitch and her muscles tighten and tremble around him.
He was so close. She was so close. One more thrust. She came apart.
And he pulled out at the last possible second and finished over her belly and her breasts.
Without a word, he left the bed, grabbed a cloth from the washstand, and returned to wipe her clean .
Then he gathered her in his arms, her head on his chest, body lying half on top of his, their legs tangled. Their breaths slowed at the same rate.
"I wish you had not done that."
She didn't need to say what. He knew.
"It is for the best. To give you time."
"Time for what?"
He didn't answer. How to tell her this was the only way he knew to keep her safe from a danger she didn't yet know existed? That he withdrew to protect her?