Chapter 14
His body was on fire. Patrick had never been more aroused in his life. His shy, sweet little Lizzie had turned into a bold seductress. She could bring him to his knees like this. Hell, she already had.
All his honorable intentions were forgotten in the space of one long heartbeat.
I want you inside me.
He’d almost come right then, his body already pushed to the edge by the seductive press of her sweet little body against his.
His ironclad control shattered into fragments.
All he could think about was tossing her down, twining her legs around him, and thrusting up high inside her until the demons roaring in his head quieted.
Until these powerful, terrifying emotions unleashed by her tender declaration let him go. Until the burning in his chest stopped.
She loves me. God. He didn’t want her love. It was too great a responsibility. He would only hurt her. But for one reckless moment he’d been moved beyond words, humbled by her gift. Almost … happy.
His kiss was brutal, punishing, for making him feel like this.
He was desperate. Out of control. Never had he experienced this kind of irrational urgency.
He needed her. Like a starving man needed food.
Like a dying man needed salvation. Now. Before everything went to hell. Before she could change her mind.
Though she seemed in no danger of that. She met him full force, plying his carnal strokes with thrusts and parries of her own. The sensation of her sweet, silky tongue sliding against his, delving in his mouth with eager abandon, drove him wild.
He drank her in. Her heat. Her sweetness. God, he couldn’t get enough of her. His tongue circled hers, twining and probing in an anxious rhythm that echoed the pulsing of his erection as he carried her toward the bed.
Her soft little sounds of pleasure were only increasing his agony.
Her bottom nudged the heavy head of his cock as he held her, and he thought he was going to explode.
The temptation to wrap her legs around his waist and plunge into her heat was almost overwhelming.
It would be so easy to lift her skirts and smooth his hand over the velvet softness of her naked bottom, lifting her over him as the weight of her body took him deeper and deeper.
Oh, God. The heavy tug in his groin was unbearable.
What the hell was the matter with him? He was acting like a damn barbarian.
He was a damn barbarian. He wanted to take her over and over. Make her come until she could think of no one else but him. Until he proved that she truly belonged to him.
He broke the kiss long enough to lower her to the pallet, forcing himself to slow, to tame the beast raging inside him. Cursing the absence of his plaid, he divested himself of his jerkin, shirt, and boots and lay down next to her.
The soft press of her body stretched out against his was too much.
He wanted to sink into her, to feel all that softness envelop him in its healing embrace.
Unable to keep his hands off her for a second longer, he slid his palms down her waist and over her hips, molding every sweet curve through the thin gauzy fabric.
He felt like a bairn with a roomful of sweets. He didn’t know where to start, but he was going to eat every sugary piece. Would she melt in his mouth? Dissolve into a warm puddle of syrup?
He scooped up her breasts in his hands. The soft round flesh spilled over his fingers, more lush than he ever could have imagined—and he’d done plenty of that late at night when the discomfort in his loins became unbearable.
Did she touch herself and think of him? He clenched his jaw to fight the surge at the thought of her pale soft hands pleasuring herself while he watched.
Barbarian.
His mouth slid over her jaw and down her throat, her skin as smooth and sweet as cream.
“God, you taste incredible,” he murmured, his tongue sliding a teasing path along the edge of her bodice.
“I want to lick every inch of you.” He lifted her breasts to his face and nuzzled her lightly, inhaling the warm feminine scent in the deep cleft.
His thumb grazed the turgid peak through the silky cloth.
“Your tight little nipples.” He looked into her eyes intently. “The soft skin above your thighs.”
Her eyes lit with surprise and then with something far more dangerous … curiosity. This woman could unman him.
She squirmed a little in his arms, her impatience fueling his hunger.
His fingers worked the ties of her gown, loosening it enough to ease it down past her shoulders and lift her breasts over the tight confines of her stays, at last revealing her bare chest to his greedy gaze.
He sucked in his breath, letting it out in short, ragged gasps.
He loved breasts—big, small, and everything in between—but Elizabeth’s were nothing short of spectacular.
Mind-blowing. Bury-your-face-and-never-want-to-leave.
Every man’s erotic fantasy. Lush and round, firm and high, topped by small nipples the same soft pink of her lips. “You’re beautiful,” he groaned.
He almost didn’t want to touch her. The porcelain skin looked so delicate and unblemished—too fine for his big, rough hands.
But he couldn’t resist. He cupped her, and the sensation of all that warm, silky skin under his callused palms forced another groan as he caressed the velvety softness with his hands and fingers.
She didn’t break, she shuddered. Arching into his hand, into his mouth, threading her fingers through his hair insistently.
He kissed her gently at first, brushing his lips over the smooth, creamy skin, savoring the taste of her on his tongue.
He flicked his tongue over her nipple, using the heat of his breath on her damp skin to increase her pleasure.
She beaded and tightened, the petal-pink skin darkening to mouthwatering raspberry.
He tamped down the reflexive surge. Hell, he could come just looking at her.
He couldn’t wait any longer and took the pink pearl between his teeth and tongue. She moaned, a low, throaty sound that called to him in the most primitive way. God, she was ripe. Like a juicy peach that he couldn’t wait to bite into.
He sucked her harder. Deeper. Circling her nipple with his tongue as his hand eased up the edge of her skirt.
She was so incredibly responsive. His hand slid up the inside of her thigh. So incredibly soft. His finger swept her sex, and he jerked, his body weeping to feel the slick heat. So incredibly ready.
He wanted nothing more than to strip her naked and devour every inch of her.
To press his lips and tongue against her until she shattered.
But that would have to wait; they had a lifetime to explore their passion.
Though she’d taken the precaution of barring the door, his men could return at any time or someone could come looking for her.
He teased her with his fingers until her hips began to press against his hand. Until the tiny whimpers increased in urgency. Her hands were on his shoulders, on his arms. Sculpting his muscles, clutching him wildly, begging.
She was going to come.
Oh, yes. He swelled hard and hot.
He circled her nipple with his tongue, and when he felt her start to break apart, he sucked her deep into his mouth and pressed his finger against her sensitive spot. She cried out, arching her back against his mouth as her body clenched around his finger with a wave of rippling contractions.
He couldn’t take his eyes off her face. She was so beautiful like this, it made his chest ache. Head tossed back. Cheeks flushed. Lips parted. Her raw passion roused him to the breaking point.
He couldn’t wait another minute. He needed to be inside her.
He unfastened his breeches, and his cock sprang free. Big and hard and thick with blood. A pearly drop glistened on the tip.
Her eyes widened.
Before she could think about it, he moved over her, rubbing his sensitive head in her damp heat.
The groan that went through him shook his entire body.
He gritted his teeth against the urge to plunge deep inside.
To relieve the unbearable pressure. She was so wet that it was killing him to go slow. He’d been waiting too long for this.
“Please,” she whispered, looking into his eyes, as if reading his mind. “I need you now.”
The heartfelt desire humbled him as nothing before. He could feel something grip him. An emotion so unfamiliar, he didn’t know what to call it. But he knew that the need he had for this woman had nothing to do with lust. She was hope to a dying man.
He looped his arms under her legs and positioned himself at her entry. Slowly, he began to push inside.
He groaned, the pleasure too intense. The tight clench of her body fisted around him like a velvet glove. “God, you feel incredible.” So amazingly tight. The urge to thrust, to sink into her full hilt, teased the edges of his consciousness.
But he needed to have care for her innocence. Except that nothing about her responses to him felt innocent. Inexperienced, yes, but not innocent. No maidenly shock. No fear. No pain.
She lifted her hips, urging him deeper, and his entire body clenched with restraint. He was too big and she was too small. But nothing in her expression suggested that he was hurting her. Her eyes were half-lidded, hazy with passion.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
Her eyes flickered open, meeting his gaze. He detected a flash of anxiety before she shook her head. “You won’t hurt me, Patrick.”
There was something in her voice … He eased into her inch by inch, until he reached the point of no return. Holding her gaze, he thrust, and her body welcomed him without resistance.
Her cry was one of satisfaction, not of pain.
He paused, feeling a moment of surprise, but when she circled her hips he was sucked into a vortex of pleasure so intense that nothing else mattered.