Jacquie D'Alessandro (20 page)

Andrew stood perfectly still, spellbound by her words and the sight of her cradling his jacket against her. God
knows he’d never been more sincere than when he told her he wanted only to please her, but he didn’t have a bloody prayer of surviving the rest of the night if she brought him to his knees just by holding his damn jacket.

Her curious gaze traveled again down his body, and he had to clench his hands to keep from reaching for her. “You worry about your ability to please me,” he said in a tight voice, “yet you can seduce me with a single look.”

Her gaze jumped back up to meet his, and he clearly read the flare of confidence that lit her eyes. After carefully setting his jacket on the floor beside her, she brushed her fingertips over his loosely knotted cravat. “I want to undress you,” she whispered.

He swallowed and attempted a half smile, but wasn’t at all certain he succeeded. “I’m all yours.”

“I’m not certain how all these garments work.”

Giving in to the overwhelming need to touch her, he traced his fingertip over her cheekbone. “Not to worry. I’ll help you.”

She applied herself to his cravat, and he stood in an agony of want, warring between his body’s need simply to shove aside their clothing and make fierce love to her
now
, and watching, feeling the stunning miracle of her removing his clothes. The blooming confidence and wonder in her eyes as she dispensed with his cravat, then slowly unfastened his shirt. When she reached his waist, he pulled his shirt free of the confines of his breeches, then held his breath.

She slowly separated the linen, then placed her hands on his chest. Heat arrowed through him, and he pulled in a quick breath. An expression of utterly feminine delight crossed her features, and she slowly dragged her hands downward. He wanted to watch her, but his eyes slid closed of their own volition, and a growl of pure pleasure
escaped him as he memorized the intense sensation of her touching him.

“Do you like that?” she whispered, her fingertips grazing his nipples.

“God, yes.”

Her hands slipped down over his abdomen, and his muscles contracted. “You like that as well?”

“Yes.” The word was a raw rasp. He forced his eyes open to watch her, her hands growing bolder with each pass over his skin. Everywhere she touched felt as if she’d scorched him. Need roared through him, and his erection jerked inside his tight breeches. After gliding her hands back up his chest, she pushed his shirt off his shoulders and down his arms. He pulled his hands free and dropped the garment to the floor.

She ran her hands over his bare shoulders, then down his back, and he gritted his teeth against the pleasure. “You’re very strong,” she said, her warm breath caressing his chest.

A shudder shook him. He felt anything but strong. His insides were shaking, and his knees were…gone.

She slid her arms around his waist, then stepped forward to rest her head against his chest. “Your heart is beating almost as fast as mine, Andrew.”

Before he could reply, she looked up at him with solemn eyes. “I want you to undress me.”

Since he wanted that more than he wanted to draw his next breath, he didn’t hesitate. “Turn around.”

Standing behind her, he combed his fingers through her long, lustrous chestnut locks, brushing the strands over her shoulder to expose her pale nape. Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to that soft, fragrant bit of skin that had haunted a thousand dreams and countless waking moments. A delicate shiver trembled through her, and she
tilted her head to the side, an invitation he didn’t even attempt to resist.

After brushing a lingering kiss to her sweet nape, he stepped back and set to work on freeing the buttons down her back. As each ivory round was freed from its loop, he was rewarded with a tantalizing peek at the thin chemise beneath. When he finally finished, he moved to stand in front of her. Her color was high, and desire shimmered from her golden brown eyes. Reaching out, he slowly pushed the garment over her shoulders. It slipped down her arms, then over her hips to land with a soft
shush
at her feet.

His avid gaze raked over her, so achingly beautiful, clad in a chemise so sheer he could see her dusky nipples through the material. Hooking his fingers under the cream-colored straps, he inched the garment down, tracking its progress as each delectable inch of her skin was revealed. When he released the straps, the chemise pooled at her feet on top of her gown.

For several seconds he stood immobile and simply drank in the sight of her, standing gracefully in the center of her discarded clothing like a single rose in full bloom rising from a priceless vase. His gaze lingered over generous, plump breasts topped with coral-hued nipples that tightened under his regard. The curve of her waist gave way to rounded hips and shapely thighs, hugging the triangle of chestnut curls nestled between her legs. Now clad in only her stockings and shoes, she robbed him of the control he’d fought so hard to keep in check. His every muscle tensed with needs that he could deny no longer. She looked ripe, luscious, and utterly delectable, and God help him, he was starving.

He extended his hand and helped her step from the yards of material surrounding her. The instant she was
free, he bent his knees, scooped her into his arms, and carried her to the velvet coverlet, made softer by the bed of fresh hay he’d spread beneath it. He gently laid her down, cushioning her head on the blue pillow. After slipping off her shoes and stockings and setting them aside, he rose to remove his low, soft leather boots and breeches.

Catherine rolled onto her side, propped her head on her palm, and watched the proceedings with rapt attention. When he freed his erection from the strangulating confines of his snug breeches, he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Oh, my,” she breathed, rising to her knees, her avid gaze arousing him further.

He tossed his clothing haphazardly onto the pile, then knelt on the quilt in front of her. Framing her face between his hands, he lowered his head and brushed his lips over hers. “Catherine…”

Everything he felt, all the love and desire burning in him, all the battles he’d waged to contain those feelings for so long were voiced in that single, heartfelt word. And the instant his lips touched hers, those battles were lost.

With a groan that bordered on pain, he pulled her against him. Each new sensation barely had time to blink in his mind before it was supplanted with another. Her body pressed against his from chest to knee. Soft breasts, aroused nipples, crushed against his chest. Her hands rippling through his hair. His palms skimming down her back to cup her buttocks, Catherine returning the favor. The weight of her breast filling his hand. Bending his head to lave her nipple with his tongue, then draw the aroused bud into his mouth. Absorbing her guttural groan of his name. Another deep, soul-searching kiss. Soft skin
beneath his hands. Sleek, moist feminine flesh between her thighs, swollen with want.

She glided her fingers down the length of his erection, and he broke off their kiss to suck in a harsh breath.

“Did I hurt you?”

Unable to speak, he shook his head.

“I want to touch you, Andrew.”

Gritting his teeth, he rested his forehead against hers and withstood the sweet torture of her fingers stroking him for as long as he could. But when she wrapped her fingers around his erection and gently squeezed, he grasped her wrist. His lips captured hers in a hard, passionate kiss, a frantic melding of lips and tongues. Without breaking their kiss, he lowered her onto her back on the quilt, then covered her body with his own. She spread her legs and groaned, and he bent his head to touch his tongue to the pleasure-filled sound vibrating at the base of her throat.

Propping his weight on his palms, he watched her in the flickering golden light while he slowly entered her body. A tumble of wild chestnut curls, in disarray from his exploring hands, surrounded her head. Her lips were red and moist and slightly parted, while her chest rose and fell with her rapid, shallow breaths. Her dusky nipples were damp and erect from his mouth. But it was the stark need, the acute want in her eyes that undid him.

He slowly thrust into her warm, wet velvet heat, and squeezed his eyes shut against the fierce pleasure. He wanted to go slowly, make this last, but his body, so long denied, was beyond his control. His strokes lengthened, quickened. Deeper. Harder. She met his every thrust, urging him on, her fingers digging into his shoulders. She tensed beneath him, surging her hips upward while exhaling a long,
ooohh
of pleasure. Helpless to
contain his release any longer, he buried his face in the fragrant crook of her shoulder and throbbed inside her wet heat for an endless, miraculous moment that left him breathless, weak, utterly contented, and, damn near dead.

Catherine lay beneath Andrew’s delicious weight—breathless, weak, utterly contented, and more alive than she’d ever felt in her entire life.

This
was what all the fuss was about.
This
was what she’d been missing her entire marriage.
This
was the splendid wonder described in
A Ladies’ Guide
, although nothing in the book’s vivid commentary and instructions had sufficiently prepared her for such an incredible, intimate experience.

With her eyes closed, she took a moment to savor the aftermath, not wanting the stunning pleasure to end. Andrew’s ragged breaths beating against her ear. His body covering hers, heated skin to heated skin. His arms still wrapped tightly around her, as if he never wanted to let her go. Her arms encircling his broad shoulders, also reluctant to release. His heartbeat pounding against her breasts. And the dazzling sensation of his body still intimately joined with hers. No, she had not known that it would be like this.

Or that he would quickly become quite so heavy.

Not that she didn’t relish the feel of him on top of her, but the need to draw a deep breath was about to overtake the pleasure of him covering her like a human blanket.

Whether he sensed her need or simply possessed good timing she didn’t know, but just then he stirred. After brushing a kiss against her cheek, he shifted to prop his weight on his forearms and looked down at her, his eyes dark and intense, his breathing still not quite
steady. His midnight hair, mussed from her frantic fingers, spilled over his forehead. Reaching up, she brushed the strands aside, only to have them tumble out of place again.

“You look rather disheveled,” she said, with a smile.

“As do you. Delightfully so.” He lowered his head and kissed her. A slow, deep, intimate kiss that conveyed better than any words could have that he’d found their lovemaking as satisfying as she. A kiss that rekindled the flame he’d extinguished only moments ago.

“I’m going to want to do all that again,” she whispered against his lips, trailing her fingers lightly down his spine.

“I don’t know when I’ve heard better news. But I’m afraid I’ll need a few minutes to recover first.” Dropping a quick kiss onto her mouth, he eased from her body, then rolled onto his back, bringing her along.

Sprawled across his chest, Catherine watched him stuff one of the pillows beneath his head. After loosely wrapping his arms around her, his eyelids drooped.

Her brows shot upward. “Don’t tell me you’re tired!”

He chuckled. “All right. I won’t tell you that.”

“But you are!” Her voice was ripe with accusation. “How can that be? I’ve never felt more energetic in my entire life.” She tickled her fingers down his abdomen. “I can hardly stay still.”

“A fact that will greatly reduce my recovery time, I assure you.”

“So you’re not feeling wonderful?”

“I feel
incredibly
wonderful. But in a ‘wrung-out sponge’ manner, as opposed to your ‘filled with vigor’ manner.”

“Humph. Wrung-out sponge does not sound very…encouraging.”

A deep chuckle rumbled in his throat. “Actually, I meant it as a compliment to you.”

“Indeed? I think it is time for
me
to fetch a dictionary so you can look up
compliment.
I’m certain that ‘wrung-out sponge’ is not given as an example.”

“My darling Catherine, I am wrung out because you satisfied me so completely. So absolutely.” His hands skimmed down her back. “As I’ve never been satisfied before.”

My darling Catherine.
Heavens, that sounded…lovely. Especially in that husky growl his voice had become. “Well, I can certainly say the same thing to you. In fact, I’m anxious to tell you about all the firsts I’ve experienced since I entered the gazebo. Would you like to hear about the things I’ve discovered?”

“I’d be delighted.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you certain you won’t doze off? You look suspiciously sleepy.”

He dipped his chin and looked down at her with a sinful smile. “I’m not sleepy. I’m sated. I assure you that you have my full attention.”

“Very well. I’ve never undressed a man before.” She traced a series of light circles on his bare chest. “I’ve never seen a naked man before.”

One dark brow shot upward. “Never?”

She shook her head, her chin bumping against his chest. Then she sat up and skimmed her gaze down his length. “Although I have nothing to compare you to, I think you are most likely a very well made specimen.”

One corner of his lovely mouth lifted. “Thank you.”

“I very much like the way your skin feels. Warm and firm.” Unable to stop touching him, she rested her hand against his shoulder, then slowly dragged her palm down the center of his chest. “I’ve never seen, or touched hair
on a man’s chest. It’s a bit coarse, but soft at the same time. And your muscles…an enthralling delight. So strong, under all that warm, firm skin.” She skimmed a single fingertip slowly downward. “This ribbon of dark hair is absolutely fascinating. The way it starts at your chest, then continues downward, bisecting these lovely ripples on your stomach, then spreads again to cradle…” Her voice drifted off as her gaze riveted on his manhood. “…this part of you that so captivates me, that brought me such incredible sensations. Even at rest you are impressive.” She lightly circled the tip of him with her index finger. “I’ve never touched a man like this before,” she whispered.