23
W ell, it had taken him long enough.
Iris threw her arms about Oliver, pressing herself against him.
Which was not close enough, considering the way her body vibrated with need.
She arched against him as his hands splayed over her back, opening her mouth, welcoming his tongue eagerly.
While common sense told her it had not been all that long since they had been intimate, it felt like an eternity.
How had she kept herself from the bliss of his arms?
she wondered as he plundered her mouth with his, as his hands roved over her sensitive body, as his ragged breathing filled her ears.
He pulled her across his lap with a groan.
His member jutted against her hip, hard and insistent, proof that he was as affected as she.
The muscled breadth of his shoulders strained and bunched under her fingers as his hand trailed down her legs to the hem of her gown.
And then he was dragging the material slowly up, exposing her skin to the warm summer night air.
She had the mad urge to straddle him, to take him into her body. And she nearly did.
Until a sudden gust of wind set the walls of their makeshift tent fluttering and snapping. While Iris would have been happy—more than happy, really—to ignore it, Oliver was of another mind.
Pulling his mouth free, he sent a dark glare to the sheets before turning back to her. His eyes glittered in the lamplight as they caressed her face.
“Iris,” he said, the words breathless, “you have to know I want to make love to you.”
“Yes,” she replied, just as breathless. She wiggled, rubbing against his erection. “The proof is right here.”
A sound that was half groan, half laugh escaped his lips, and he closed his eyes, pressing his forehead to hers. “You shall be the death of me.”
“I sincerely hope not,” she managed, which earned her another strained chuckle.
He opened his eyes and gazed down at her, and the emotions in them, both soft and fierce, robbed her of speech entirely.
“But I do not want another quick tumble. Iris, I want all of you.”
If she had been frozen solid that right there would have melted her into a puddle completely.
“I want all of you, too, Oliver,” she whispered.
And it was true, though perhaps more than what he’d implied.
While she was fairly certain he meant only her body, she meant all of him, body and heart and soul.
But right now, in this magical moment with the golden glow of lanterns on rippling sheets and the glitter of a million stars above their heads, she would take whatever he would give.
He searched her eyes, and she had the mad idea that he could see her thoughts.
Thoughts that she suddenly didn’t want him to see.
What if they made him uncomfortable or disgusted him?
What if he wanted nothing to do with her after realizing how desperately she was falling in love with him?
Before she could cover her face to hide her secret longings for him, he made a small, desperate sound and took her lips in another kiss.
This one, however, was so much softer than the last, his hand cradling her cheek, making her feel cherished.
But it was over much too soon. Without warning he put her aside, rose to his feet, and hefted her into his arms just before he strode back through the house and up the stairs.
She held on tight to his shoulders, pressing her face into his neck, achingly aware of his heartbeat against her temple, pounding in rapid concert with her own.
Finally he pushed into his room, kicking the door closed behind him.
But there was no dropping her to the bed and falling on top of her as she had expected after that first burst of passion under the tent.
No, everything slowed, as if he was savoring the moment.
He lowered her feet to the floor, sliding her down the length of him, each inch of her tingling with awareness as her slight curves brushed against his hard muscles.
She imagined those muscles, what they would look like beneath his clothes, and shivered.
He dipped his head to peer closer at her face in the deep shadows. “Are you chilled?” he asked, voice a rasp.
“No.”
“But you shivered.”
“It’s not because I’m cold. I was wondering what you would look like unclothed.”
He groaned, pressing his forehead to hers.
“Good God, Iris,” he managed, just before he claimed her lips with his.
Even though she could feel the barely restrained tension threading his body, evident in the faint tremor of his hands as they came up to cradle her cheeks and the bunching of the muscles in his shoulders beneath her fingers, his kiss was achingly gentle.
He sipped and tasted her as if she were a rare delicacy, lips and tongue not only sending shafts of heat through her body but filling her chest with emotion.
How could a simple kiss make her feel so very precious?
He moved from her mouth, trailing across her cheek, down the side of her neck, even as his hands began a slow roving over her body. She bent her head to the side in a silent plea, her body arching up into his touch, straining for more. “Oliver,” she breathed.
He seemed to hear the desperation in her voice.
“I want to take my time with you tonight,” he said against the sensitive skin just beneath her ear.
He pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss there, drawing a soft groan from her.
“I want to see every inch of you, touch every inch of you, kiss every inch of you.”
His fingers danced down her spine, releasing each clasp with painstaking slowness.
Her dress loosened, drifting down her body, pooling at her feet, joined by her petticoats, her corset, her chemise, the shedding of each article of clothing taking whatever inhibitions she had left with them.
When she was in nothing but her stockings and garters, Oliver stepped back, taking the time to light a solitary candle before he turned and gazed at her.
But Iris did not feel even a modicum of embarrassment at her state of undress.
No matter that no man had ever seen her in such a state before, with Oliver it felt right.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, eyes caressing her from the top of her head to the tips of her toes.
That, finally, elicited a self-conscious flush.
She had never in her life been told such a thing, and if she ever had, she would have known the person was lying.
She knew her face better than anyone; she was odd not only in manner, but in looks as well.
With her overlarge eyes, wide mouth, upturned nose, and hair that would not be tamed no matter how much she tried, she was anything but a stunning creature.
Add to that her painfully thin, shapeless form, and she had never once expected to inspire passion in anyone.
“You needn’t say things you don’t mean,” she mumbled, hands coming up to cover herself.
Oliver was there in an instant, gently pulling her hands away. “I mean it, very much,” he rasped, eyes burning down into hers. “You truly are beautiful.” When she continued to stare mutely up at him, his lips quirked. “You do not believe me. Shall I prove it to you?”
She frowned. “I don’t see how.”
His smile grew. “A challenge if I ever heard one.”
Her eyes widened in alarm. “Oh no, I never meant it to be a challenge—”
He held up a hand, halting her words in their tracks. “If you will allow me?” he said before, eyes turning decidedly heavy lidded, he stepped closer. He dragged one finger down the side of her face in a barely there touch she nevertheless felt straight to her toes.
“Shall I start with the line of your cheek, which gets adorably pink when you’re flustered?
A hue I would no doubt see this very moment if a single candle was not the only thing to illuminate you.
Or shall I talk about this little divot between your brows when you’re perplexed?
” he continued, smoothing his thumb over that spot.
“Or perhaps your eyes, which are the most stunning shade of green I have ever seen in my life?” Here he bent and kissed her eyelids, as light as a flower petal brushing her skin.
“I could tell you how much I adore the stubborn set to your jaw,” he murmured, lips moving to that place before he skimmed lower, breath warm on her, making her eyes roll back in her head.
“Or the graceful arch of your neck. Or,” he continued, voice lower, vibrating through her skin into her very bones as his hand came up to cup one breast, “how perfectly shaped you are, how it felt to take you in my mouth, how delicious you tasted. And how often I’ve dreamed of doing so again.
” He hooked a supporting arm about her back, bent her over it, and did just that.
His mouth was hot on her, his tongue swirling about her nipple.
Iris gasped, head falling back, fingers diving into his hair, urging him even closer.
He groaned again, the sound making the effect of his kisses so much more intense, and guided her backward across the room.
Her legs came up against something unmoving, and she found herself slowly falling as he lowered her to the bed.
The mattress welcomed her, soft and inviting, but she hardly registered it.
He drew her breast farther into his mouth, sucking her deep, dragging his tongue over her nipple, and a current of pure desire pulsed from her breast to that place between her thighs.
She cried out, pressing her legs tightly together, searching for relief from the ache, but it only grew worse.
When he pulled back entirely, she thought she might cry from frustration.