Fireflies and Magnolias (26 page)

“I want you in my bed,” he murmured.

Before she could respond, he swept her into his arms like she’d always dreamed he would and carried her up the stairs. She was smiling again. It was impossible not to at this moment, and he smiled back when he looked down at her.

“You look happy,” he commented.

With his heartbeat pounding against her body, how could she not be? “I am. You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.”

His brow rose. “For me? Or for this?”

If she said him, he’d probably bolt, so she let her mouth curve. “Right now, it’s all the same.”

He swallowed thickly and looked away, navigating the hallway to his bedroom. She’d never been in his house before, and truth be told, he was carrying her so fast it was mostly a blur. She had little more than a fleeting impression of landscape oil paintings, antique furnishings, and white crown molding that matched the white walls.

They crossed a threshold, and he had to juggle her to reach the lights. There was a stone fireplace across the room with pictures of his mom and dad and him on the mantle. Masculine furnishings in dark green and brown dominated the room, from the walls to the curtains and bed linens. He set her down at the foot of his king-size sleigh bed.

“How about a fire?” he asked, and she nodded, feeling nerves wiggle their way into her now that he wasn’t touching her.

After all, she was standing in his bedroom in her bra and panties. She found herself wishing she had on a silky nightgown or teddy to tantalize him.

“Can I do anything?” she asked him as he assembled the wood and rolled newspaper and then struck a match to kindle it.

He turned on his heels, regarding her from where he balanced on one knee. “You haven’t changed your mind, have you?”

“No,” she said, fighting the urge to cover up. “I just wish I had something else…well…to wear with you.”

“Ah,”
he said, giving the budding fire a nudge with the cast iron poker before setting it aside. “What if I told you that you couldn’t look more beautiful than you do now? Trust me, you could be wearing a burlap bag, and I’d still want you like crazy.”

She huffed out a sigh. Did the man have no romance inside him? “Really, Clayton.”

He came toward her and yanked her against his chest. “Really, Amelia Ann. I would still be able to smell you, and that turns me on more than you could ever know.”

Smell her? Okay, that was strange. “What do you mean?”

“You smell like magnolia blossoms on a hot, muggy day,” he told her. “You know. Those days when the air’s so thick it’s hard to breathe.”

Okay, so he had romance.

“You make it hard for me to breathe, princess.”

Now they were talking. She linked her hands around his neck and enjoyed the feel of sliding her body against his as she rose on her tiptoes. “You make it hard for me to breathe too.”

“You couldn’t look more beautiful to me,” he said, tracing her cheek, “but I know this is your first time. Would you rather have a bath first? I…want you…to have the night you deserve.”

A bath would only postpone things, and she didn’t want that. “No, it’s okay. I can bring something to wear with me next time.”

Lingerie shopping for her man. It would be the most fun she ever had on a shopping spree.

His eyes darkened. “So this isn’t a one-time thing?”

She sucked in her breath. “No. Were you thinking it was?” Now that would give her pause.

He traced his hands down her back. “No, I wasn’t, but Amelia, Rye’s not going to like this… I still…I feel bad…”

The fire was popping and cracking, and it took some effort to bank her own fire. The last thing she wanted to think about at a time like this was her brother.

“What happens between us happens between us and no one else. Now, will you kiss me again?”

“If I kiss you again, it won’t stop there.”

She had to fight the urge to roll her eyes. “Clayton, am I not standing in your bedroom in my underwear right now?”

A flicker of doubt came and went in his eyes. “Well…”

“Stop thinking, you infernal man,” she whispered and yanked his head down until their lips met.

His hands slid under her bottom again—something she’d never known she’d like so much—and fitted her firmly against his body. He wanted her. Of that there was no question.

Tonight was their night.

Feeling bolder with each new dance of their tongues, she sucked on his bottom lip. His hands tightened on her flesh, sending a powerful jolt through her body. She wanted him so much, she rubbed herself against him, causing him to groan.

“You are going to be the death of me, woman,” he ground out in a tight voice.

“Oh, I hope so,” she said back.

He kissed her then, deeper, wetter, and more wildly than ever before. Her body grew impatient. She wanted his hands on her breasts, so she pulled them up to her chest and made space for them. He cupped that sensitive flesh, running his hands over the tight nipples under the lace, and she moaned long and deep, wanting nothing more than for him to take her bra off and touch that bare flesh for the first time.

Reading minds must be something he was good at because soon he unhooked the bra and tugged it away. Her breasts scratched against his shirt, and she could take it no longer.

“Clayton, take off your shirt.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, his tone playful and seductive.

God, she loved that voice.

He ripped the shirt off, scattering buttons, causing her to gasp and then laugh when he said, “I didn’t like this shirt much anyway.”

He pulled her to his bare chest, and they both groaned at the contact. His body was hard where hers was soft, yet they seemed to fit together like God had intended it.

“Make love to me, Clayton,” she whispered.

“I am, honey. Trust me, I am.”

Scooping her up, he laid her on the bed and lowered himself on top of her. Poised over her, he put his mouth to her breast, causing a whole new level of heat to rise to the surface. The pull of desire had her eyes closing, and she basked in the feel of his touch.

His lips slid lower, down to that tightness in her belly. His hand stroked the lace below, and she knew he was asking for permission to take things further. She took his hand and placed it between her thighs before she could be embarrassed. He slid his hand inside the front, and her body jerked from the electricity of him touching her there.

“Tell me if you want me to slow down,” he whispered, glancing up at her, his eyes the color of quicksilver now.

“Not for a second,” she breathed out.

He rubbed his thumb at the base of her, and she shimmied in place against it. The smile he gave her was pure sin.

“Let’s get these off, shall we?”

She raised her hips as he came up on his knees beside her, and together they brought them down her legs. Again, she felt the flush of embarrassment. Now she was completely naked before him, the firelight dancing on her skin. He tickled her soles, causing her to kick out and giggle.

“Someone’s ticklish.”

“Yes, and that’s not something we need to explore right now.”

“I love that prim voice of yours,” he told her, trailing his hands up her calves now.

“What about your…ah…clothes?”

Oh, the image of him crouching over her as he slid his hands up her thighs was enough to make her mouth go dry.

“Plenty of time for that. I want to see to you first.”

First? Did that mean he was going to…

“Amelia,” he called, almost like it was too much effort in that moment to say her full name. “Trust me.”

Their gazes locked, and she nodded. He seemed to sense she needed him to kiss her now that she was naked. Her body pressed close to his as he claimed her mouth, and within moments, desire was coursing through her body once more.

His mouth journeyed down, kissing her neck, paying homage to her breasts again, and with every slide of his tongue over her, she grew more feverish. It was hard to contain her moans now, and she stopped trying. They slid out as proof that she was exploring passion for the first time with the right man.

When he kissed her belly and stroked lower, she raised her hips to give him the permission she sensed he was seeking. He slid a finger inside her, and the fit was tight, yet oh so arousing. From then on, all her breaths came out as pants. His gentle touch inflamed her, and closing her eyes, she lost herself to the pleasure of it.

His clever finger knew exactly where she needed to be touched and how soft or hard. Her thighs relaxed as he continued to stroke her. Her body curved into him as an ancient knowledge unfurled within her. Though she’d never done this before, she somehow knew what she was doing. It all felt so right.

His mouth returned to her breasts, first one and then the other, and soon she was moving against him urgently as a force grew inside her, waiting to break free.

He seemed to sense how close she was because he suddenly pressed down hard with the heel of his hand on the most sensitive part of her, and she burst open like a star. Her body clenched and clenched, and she felt him shift away from her and rustle with his remaining clothes.

Even with her eyes closed, she knew he was between her legs now. She opened her eyes to look at him, and the sight of his naked body poised over hers sent a fresh bolt of lust into her core. Firelight danced over his skin, making him seem pagan and sexy and oh so manly.

He lowered himself onto his elbows, and she felt him poised at her entrance. “All right, now. Let’s take it easy.”

His body pressed forward, and he slowly slid in a few inches. The feel of him was tight, and she wiggled to better accommodate him.

“Ow.”

His breath was harsh against her neck. “I’m sorry, honey.”

Her desire was receding the deeper he pressed. She hadn’t expected it to sting like this, and the pain was dampening her mood.

“It’s okay,” she lied, praying it would get better.

“Try and relax,” he whispered, kissing her neck.

She took a breath because she seemed to need one, and he slid more deeply inside her. It was impossible to hold back her wince.

He groaned then, a sound so agonized her heart hurt for him. This couldn’t be easy for him either, she realized. Opening her eyes, she forced herself to focus on something other than the tightness of him in her body. Instead she admired how broad his shoulders seemed, how black his hair looked in the firelight all tousled from her fingers. God, he was beautiful. But his eyes were clenched shut, and there was sweat gathering on his forehead like he was in pain.

“Clayton,” she whispered, needing their connection back.

He met her gaze, and her heart stopped right there. Filled with him, seeing him poised over her, she felt it—that semi-mythical joining of bodies and hearts she’d always read about.

Her body relaxed as her heart expanded.

“Oh, Amelia,” he whispered, sliding deeper inside her.

This time it didn’t hurt so badly. She wanted him there, wanted him to be part of her. Ignoring the discomfort, she stroked his back.

“Kiss me.”

The kiss started out gentle, but he quickly took it deeper. It felt like he was a hairbreadth from losing control. Her body flushed again with desire, and the feel of him inside her changed from discomfort to something more urgent.

“Oh, God,” she cried out when he ended the kiss to let them both breathe.

She felt stretched and damp and out of control.

“Is it better now?” he asked harshly, and she gave a slight nod against the pillows.

“Tell me if it hurts too much, and I’ll stop again.”

He retreated and then slid back inside her, staring down at her face. The look was the most intimate one she’d ever experienced, and her heart seemed to grow in her chest like a sponge in warm water. Her body stretched with him, and on the third stroke, she no longer cared about the slight discomfort. She wanted him, needed him. Urgently.

“I want…” she whispered, closing her eyes and raising her hips to meet him.

“I know, baby,” he said in a harsh tone. “Come with me.”

As he increased the speed and depth of his thrusts, she could only hold on and try. Everything inside her was gathering again, but this time with a force she feared. It was too much. She pushed at his shoulders.

“Let go, princess,” he said, thrusting deep.

She pressed her head back into the pillows, feeling the burn of it, feeling the electricity course through her body.

“Come on, honey,” he said again, and this time he wedged a hand in between them to touch where they were joined.

She exploded. He rose up on his knees, taking her to a new edge of passion, one that had claws. His thrusts grew less controlled and soon he froze above her and called out her name, awash in the same blind passion raining over her.

He sank onto her and would have crushed her had he not rested his full weight on his elbows.

“Oh, dear God,” he ground out, and she hugged him close, trying to soothe him.

Her body was pulsing, and it felt like the firelight was dancing inside her now. She was burning up. Everything felt hot and heavy except where she pulsed in strong bursts around him.

He took her to their sides and wrapped her close, keeping them joined. The arm he placed around her was gentle, and the gesture made her feel cherished.

All she could think was that everyone who’d written about or described lovemaking had gotten it all wrong. Mere words weren’t enough to convey the power of it, the intensity of this connection between two people. Between them.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his mouth near her ear.

“Divine,” she easily responded. Sure she was sore, but it would lessen. And any discomfort was eclipsed by the feel of him inside her, by this precious new connection.

“Divine, huh?” Making a little space between them, a few inches only, he gazed into her eyes. “I’m mighty glad to hear that since I know it didn’t start off that way. Sore?”

“A little. What about you?” she asked, feeling a blush wash over her again. Part of her wished she were better at hiding her feelings.

A grin played across his mouth. “Divine is a pretty good word for it.”