Fit for a King (22 page)

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Palmer

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against skin, light
against dark, hard muscle against
softness.

"There's
nothing to be afraid of," he whispered,
brushing her body in
agonizingly slow movements
against his, her breasts just barely touching
him, her
hips trembling against his blatant masculinity.

Her hands
gripped his hard arms, and she leaned
her forehead against his chest so
that he wouldn't see
the fear. "Is it going to hurt?"
she whispered.

"It's
going to be beautiful," he whispered back, his hands on her hips.
"Give me your mouth."

She lifted
her face and saw the soft affection in his
eyes. Her heart was
his. She loved him so. It was
magic, the way it felt, to be this way with
him, to be
intimate with him. Her mind was beyond right and wrong,
in thrall to the budding demands of her own
womanhood.

His hands
explored her waist and hips, gently ca
ressing, softly
arousing. He moved her hips against
his, and she bit back a moan. She
clung to him,
astounded by what was happening.

"Oh,
King," she whispered achingly, lifting her
eyes.

He eased
her upward then, holding her gaze while
he positioned her
hips against his. His face was that
of a stranger, utterly sensual,
slightly threatening, but
there was something in his dark eyes that
held her
spellbound. He bent, his breath mingling with hers as

he brushed his mouth
over hers in lazy, comforting
sweeps that eased her fear.

While his
lips toyed with hers, his hands were learning the silken contours of her body.
He teased
her breasts, nudging their hardened tips, making her
tremble
with the sensations he aroused. He nipped her
lower lip and
trailed his mouth over her throat, her
shoulders and,
finally, the soft swell of her breasts.

She could
hardly breathe. She held his arms for support, her eyes closed, the air cool at
her back. He
moved then, and she felt the sudden contact with his
thighs, the ripple of muscles as he probed her softly.
She gasped, looking
up, her breath stopped in her
throat.

He moved
against her, very slowly, holding her
eyes. His hands made their way to her
hips, moving
her against him in a slow, lazy, arousing rhythm. She
didn't understand what was happening to her. She felt her body begin to
tremble, and she gasped when he
increased the gentle rise and fall of his
hips against
her. She clutched at him, overwhelmed by the inti
macy of
the gesture.

"King...sitting
up?" she gasped, her voice
scarcely recognizable to her own ears.

"Shh," he whispered,
lowering his mouth over
hers in delicious
teasing motions. "Just relax, little
one. I wouldn't hurt a hair on your sweet head for all
the cows in Texas."

"But...like this?"

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He laughed
gently, even though his body was shud
dering with his need of her. He looked
down at her
taut breasts and deliberately pressed his hard,
hair-roughened chest against them. She moaned, and the
sound fired his
blood.

"Are
you going to get noisy?" he whispered into her mouth. "I won't
mind." He bit her lower lip del
icately while one hand teased her
swollen breast and
moved down slowly to her hips, her thighs, and into
a sudden,
wildly shocking intimacy that she instinc
tively protested. But
after a minute, when her body demanded that she let him do it, she gave in and
held on, crying out softly at the delicious pleasure he was giving her. She
felt tears sting her eyes and ran down
into her mouth.

He tasted
them and lifted his head to watch her
fevered eyes, her flushed face, while
he savored her
sweet body. "It won't be hard for you," he
whis
pered, and he shifted, just a little, holding her hips. "It won't
be hard at all. Don't tense up. I'm going to
show you the mystery,
Elissa. I'm going to make a
woman of you now."

She felt
him arch slightly, and her lips parted on a
soft gasp. She
looked into his eyes, frightened at the first burning stab of sensation.

His hands
framed her face as he moved again, and
she jerked a little.
"Another few seconds," he whis
pered, his voice soft and slow and
intimate. He
smiled. "Relax for me. It
won't ever hurt again, I

promise," he
breathed brokenly, his hands bringing her down to him.

He kissed
her softly as he took her completely, and
her nails bit into
him. She started to stiffen, but she bit her lip and laid her forehead against
his broad,
damp chest and forced her body to admit him. There was
only a small stab of pain, and then she sighed in
relief.

His hands
moved on her, stroking her, doing im
possible things, moving her, shifting
her. He bent to her mouth again, probing it with his tongue. He took it, and
his hips began to move, and she felt a savage
ripple of pleasure
that took her by surprise. Surely,
she thought dazedly, she'd only
imagined it. But he moved, and it came again. And again. She bit his
shoulder,
shuddering. He shuddered, too, and she felt
his body surge
powerfully.

He lifted
his mouth just enough to look at her. "Exquisite," he whispered,
studying her. "That ex
pression, wild and tortured, as if I were
hurting you.
But I'm not, am I?"

"No,"
she whispered. His hand moved, and she
cried out, biting her
lip.

"Don't
stop yourself," he gasped as he increased
his rhythm, his eyes
stormy and dark. "There's no
one to hear you. Let it out. Make
noise," he whis
pered. "Make as much noise as you
want."

His hands
bit into her thighs, holding her down to
him. Her eyes
dilated, because she'd never expected

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that it would be like
this. Her head fell back, and she
gasped as he arched under her. His
face was a mask
of passion, tight and flushed, his eyes black as night
and
glittering, exultant.

She cried
out, and her fingers bit into his shoulders
as she shuddered with
unexpected, total completion,
his name a hoarse sound torn from her throat

He felt
her convulse, stunned that it should happen
for her the first
time. And then he felt the familiar
stab of fulfillment racking him, and
he cried out her
name over and over.

A long
time later she wafted back to earth. Under
her, his body was
damp and shuddering in the aftermath, his hands protective now, soothing,
tender. He
lifted his face to hers and began to kiss her, his hard
mouth so
tender and cherishing that she wanted to
cry. He whispered her
name over and over again, his
voice awed. He'd never experienced anything
like this
in his life. With Elissa, he'd attained heights he hadn't
touched before. Whatever this was, it wasn't simply
sex.

His body
still trembling, he kissed her closed eyes warmly and then her face again, in
soft, searching
caresses. She felt loved, cherished, and she smiled
against his damp throat.

He nipped
her ear. "I felt it happen to you," he
murmured. "It
almost never does the first time."

"My body didn't know. I'll make sure I tell it"

"Imp,"
he drawled. He looked into her eyes and

shifted his hips, his
eyes hot and wicked when she
gasped. "Shocking, isn't it?" he
whispered. And then his gaze softened, and his smile faded. "I hope you
aren't
having second thoughts," he said quietly.

She opened
her mouth to tell him that she wasn't
protected, but his opened against it,
and his hips rose
and fell, and the pleasure came stabbing back in a
rhythm
that was already familiar.

"Angel
face," he whispered softly. "I've dreamed
about this for so
long, about how it would be with
you. It was beyond my wildest dreams. It was
per
fection," he breathed, touching her face reverently.
"My
God, it's never been like that for me. Never."

She stared
at his hair-roughened chest and touched
it tentatively,
liking the feel under her fingers. He
stiffened a little, and she smiled at
him. "You're very
good at this," she said shyly, wondering
how many women there had been before her. The thought dis
turbed
her a little, and her conscience was twinging.
He didn't love her,
she knew, but she loved him. Was
that reason enough to covet this oneness with
him?
This one night out of a lifetime, when she could lie
in his
arms and pretend that he loved her? She refused
to think. She leaned
forward and kissed his chest
softly. "You'll have to show me what to
do to make
it good for you," she whispered.

"The
mind boggles," he whispered back, sliding
his mouth softly over
hers. "Come on. We'll have a

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Palmer

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shower, and then
we'll go to bed." He lifted his head,
searching her eyes.
"If you still want to."

She returned
that intent look. "I want to," she as
sured him.

He
carried their things upstairs to his bedroom and
led her into the
shower. For the next few minutes they
soaped and explored each other and
kissed until her
mouth was swollen and his body was making new
and urgent
demands.

"I'm
not protected," she whispered as he laid her
down on the bed.
"I should have told you before."

"I
don't give a damn," he breathed. He was on
fire for her,
burning. Consequences didn't seem to
matter anymore, and they were engaged,
so what the
hell.
"A baby wouldn't be the end of my world or
yours."

"How
would you make love to me if you wanted a baby?" she whispered, her eyes
soft with love.

He smiled
as he brushed her mouth with his. "Very
much as I did
downstairs," he murmured against her
lips. "As if you
were innocent all over again. We'd
be exquisitely tender with each
other, like two people
desperately in love. Like...this."

It was
tender. And profound. He drew it out, ex
ploring her body like
some delicate treasure that
might break with a harsh breath. Even when he
began
to take her, it was still gentle, their eyes openly cher
ishing
each other, their voices hushed. When the tide
came and washed them into the blinding
heat of ful-

fillment, they were
still looking into each other's eyes,
and it was a gentle violence, rocking
them with ex
quisitely tender shudders and warm convulsions that were
even more beautiful than those of wild passion.
When it was over,
she cried helplessly, and he held her, kissing away the tears, cradling her
against his
damp body.

"You
make it so profound," he whispered shakily.
"It isn't even physical with you,
it's a thing so much
of the spirit that it
makes me tremble. I never dreamed
of
such fulfillment"

"You make love beautifully," she breathed.

"So do
you, baby." He curled her into his body
with a weary sigh.
"I want to sleep with you, Elissa.
I never want to let
go of you."

She
cuddled close to him, savoring his strength,
feeling secure and
adored and totally fulfilled. At the
back of her mind, a tiny voice nagged
that it wasn't
right or proper, but she was too tired to listen.

"Don't hate me," he breathed.

"How could I?"

"I took you out of wedlock."

"I offered myself."

"Did
you? Or did I simply back you into a corner
and take the choice
away from you?" He lifted his
head to search her eyes. "Will you
mind if I made
you pregnant?"

"There
probably wasn't much risk," she mur
mured shyly.