Enchanted by Your Kisses (35 page)

He rubbed it, making it hard, as hard as he was for her. He could feel himself straining against his breeches, felt his own answering moisture for her, and he knew that if he didn't take her soon, he would lose himself.

Still, some perverse desire made him continue to stroke her, watching as she tilted her head back, her dark curls falling almost to her waist. He didn't seem to be able to stop touching her, his craving for her such that he wanted to hear her moan again. He closed the distance between them, leaned down and kissed her. She opened immediately, moaning, just as he'd wanted. He sucked her, rubbing his thumb around her nipple in time with his tongue.

"Touch me, Ariel," he ordered.

And she did. She touched his chest tentatively at first, and then with a growing desperation that made his desire erupt in a way that made him almost lose control. God, she knew how to touch him. Almost as if she'd been doing it all her life. He lapped the taste of her with his tongue, using his other hand to tug the fabric of her breeches. They were so big on her they fell the moment he released the rope holding them around her waist.

He pulled back and looked.

Perfection. He needed no lust to heighten his appreciation of her. She was everything he'd fantasized she would be. He reached out a hand, touching her shoulder, moving his hand lower toward the top of her breast. He skated around one round globe toward her side, feeling the bumps of her rib cage, then the smooth feel of her abdomen. Her muscles contracted beneath his touch, her flesh dotted with goose pimples. The fine, fine hairs that covered her skin felt soft to his touch.

"Nathan," she whispered as his hand moved lower, her head tilting back.

He stared at her, marveled at her, even as his hand moved lower, until at last he touched the softness above her thighs.

"Oh, Nathan," she sighed, her head moving from side to side, long hair sweeping almost to her waist.

He stepped closer, making sure to keep his body out of contact with her, even as he fought a longing to pull her toward him. His body was so hard for her, his erection throbbing in anticipation of being inside her. He ran his hand through her soft curls, using his index finger to skate the folds of her womanhood.

It was then that she moved closer, pushing into his hand, forcing him to cup her slick wetness. His eyes drank in the sight of her. Her nipples tiny little buds, her skin glistening with a fine sheen of sweat. She kept pushing into him, moving her body in a way that spoke of a freedom Nathan had never seen before. He felt her moist valley, let her seek the climax her body craved. She moaned again, then again, seeming to be lost in a world all her own.

"Nathan," she said, clutching at his forearms, her eyes opening. They were foggy, unfocused. Confused. "Oh, Nathan."

"Let it come, Ariel."

She shook her head, continuing to move against him. He bent, captured her lips with his own, dipping his tongue into her mouth with the same rhythm he used below. His hands shook as he touched her, showing her how to touch him likewise. And she did, Nathan groaning as she stroked the length of him.

So lost were they that he didn't even realize he'd somehow moved them to the bed. Not until he began to gently lay her down did he realize what he'd done. There was only one thought.
Make love to her.
It was a need that rose within him with such a fierce longing he could barely contain the shaking of his limbs as he settled her back. Firelight cast its flickering spells across her body. A shadow here, the glow of flesh there. But always, always there were her eyes. So intense the look in them. So filled with a need that matched his own. There was no hesitancy. No shy innocence. There was only want, want and something else, a something that filled him with hunger and had him capturing her lips with his own. Then her tongue, their dueling fueling a fire of its own. Somehow he was lowering his breeches. Somehow, without knowing quite how he'd gotten there, they ended up naked in each other's arms, Nathan alongside of her, Ariel half beneath him, one leg drawn up, knee bent.

Not once did she resist, not even as he stroked his hand down the side of her, awed by the softness of her flesh. She wanted him as badly as he wanted her. He could see it in her eyes, feel it in the way her body pressed into his hand, touch it in the wetness of her desire. And though Nathan sensed there was something deeper to her need than just desire, he didn't dwell on the matter. He was past the point of wanting. He needed only to take.

"Nathan," she whispered his name again.

He closed his eyes, the husky sound of her voice the essence of everything he craved. At that moment he wondered if she was a virgin, for she seemed a woman of the world, one who knew what she wanted in a man and wasn't afraid to take it.

But if a man had been there before him, did he really care?

For an instant sanity returned. And then she reached up and touched his face. A simple gesture, really, but the feel of her fingers stroking the side of his jaw, the way her eyes burned into his own, the way, God, the way she lifted her head off the pillow and captured his lips with her own, it was all his undoing. And he realized he didn't care. There was no going back, there was only going forward now.

He returned her kiss gently and then, as he realized she didn't want it gently, with more pressure, the pleasure in his own body building to a point that beckoned him like her amber eyes. His hand stroked her breasts, then moved lower, dipping to a silky-smooth belly that jerked against him in response to his touch. He moved lower, felt her arch into his hand as he palmed her again. Bloody hell, but she was wet for him. He groaned, stroking her, dipping his fingers deeper and deeper. She moaned, her hands lifting to cup the back of his head. He felt her work the leather that tied his hair back, felt the first locks of it fall forward around his face. Her eyes seemed to grow even more gold as she stared up at him.

It became a kind of pain to hold back. And yet he was determined to do so.

"Please," she begged.

He knew what she wanted, so he stroked her deeper. He could feel her climax begin to build in the way she clenched around him. It was then that he covered her. At last. There was a moment, a brief one, when he weighed what he was about to do against what he knew he should do. Stop. But his body's craving for her, his need for her wouldn't allow him to hold back. He held himself steady at her entrance, his manhood replacing the hand he pulled away.

Still, he found himself saying, "Ariel," in a husky groan that was part question, part plea.

"
Shh
," she soothed, reaching up to touch his face, telling him without words that she wanted this as much as he. She spread her legs wider. He groaned at the feel of her doing so.

"Ariel, we can't go back once this is done. Do you understand?"

She swallowed, nodded, her eyes languid with desire. "Do it to me, Nathan, please." She lifted her hips.

His restraint broke. He pushed himself into her slowly, oh, so slowly, for she was a virgin, and he didn't want to hurt her. She was slick for him, so slick it was hell to keep from thrusting all the way. He began to pant, began to tremble.

"No," she said, as he started to back out.

"Wait, love," he soothed. He moved into her again, only deeper this time. He wanted to kiss her, knew to do so would break his control.

"Yes," she whispered. "Oh, Nathan, yes." She closed her eyes, tilting her head against the pillow.

He pulled out again, then slowly moved into her again, deeper still.

"Hold me tight, Ariel," he instructed her. "Hold me."

She did, crossing her legs behind his own. He moved out of her again, teaching her how to move, how to use him so that he didn't have to move. And she learned quickly, her hips rising and falling, rising and falling, faster and faster. And then, to his amazement, he felt the barrier of her maidenhead break. The realization drove him over the edge. He heard her gasp once, knew he'd broken through, then began to move deeper, the possessiveness he felt on realizing he was the first filling him with raging desire.

"Nathan," she cried. "Oh, Nathan."

Their movements grew more frantic. Nathan plunging in and out of her, Ariel moving with him. Their mouths found each other. They sucked, Nathan moving, moving, moving until he felt himself began to give, felt her answering moan.
Yes. Yes,
he thought.
Come with me. Come now.

And then she cried out, her body clutching his own, then releasing in sweet abandon, throbbing around him, milking him of the seed he gave her.

"Ariel," he sighed against her lips, pouring himself into her, feeling the heat of his seed within her. "My sweet Ariel."

"Nathan," she whispered back into his ear. "My darling Nathan."

If Ariel loved Nathan before, the act they'd committed made her love him all the more. Ariel's body still hummed from the last time they'd made love. Embers from the fire glowed, casting muted light on his form. He slept. Yet even in sleep he still looked the hardened warrior, for he still carried the scars of his past. The one on his face. The one on his back. And the one on his chest. She wanted to kiss all of them. But most of all, she wished she could heal the only scar that mattered.

Wess
Trevain
.

She closed her eyes, trying to think of a way to find him. But the only solution she came up with, the only chance they might have was through her father.

The thought filled her with dread.

Dealing with her father on a normal basis was difficult enough. Asking him to help made Ariel cringe. She'd rather set her toes afire.

Yet what choice did she have? She loved the man beside her. And his life would not be complete without his brother by his side. So she needed to get that brother back. If he was alive.

Nay, she would not think about
Wess
Trevain
being dead and the obstacles to her and Nathan's relationship if
Wess'd
been killed. Nathan would never blame her. To do so would be like blaming her for the war between their two countries.

Still her thoughts made her restless. She got up from the bed, careful not to disturb Nathan. It was dark outside and foggy, the kind of night when mist seems to creep through doors and permeate your clothes. It felt dank and cold, so much so that she longed for a bath to make her warmer. Bother that, she
would
take a bath, although in her own room so as not to disturb him.

Dressing quickly and quietly, she went across the hall, ringing for a servant when she got there. She'd donned her gray cloak. Her face was in shadow as she waited for her call to be answered.

"Lady Ariel
D'Archer
?" a masculine voice asked when she opened the door.

She started, but not because of the use of her name. No. It was his attire.

An officer stood there, his gold tassels and shiny gold buttons proclaiming him a high-ranking one. He looked young, perhaps not much older than herself. His face and hair were powdered, blue eyes slightly wrinkled at the corners from time spent aboard a ship.

"I have orders to bring you with me, my lady."

"Orders? From whom?" And more importantly, how had he discovered she was here?

"I was told to say nothing more than that, my lady. Will you come?"

Ariel almost told him no. She looked across the hall at Nathan's door, but as she stared at him she realized the only person who knew she was in
Portsmouth
was Lord Gordon. Had the man decided to help her further?

It could be. "Did Gordon send you?"

"Yes."

She closed her eyes in relief. Oh, thank goodness. "Then, yes, I will come with you."

Hastily she followed the officer, for he had already turned and left. Only once did she think to go back for Nathan. But what if they did not know he was here? Nay, better to keep his presence a secret.