Lovers Forever (8 page)

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Authors: Shirlee Busbee

BOOK: Lovers Forever
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Nicolas hadn't lied when he had said he was as foxed as she was. Somewhat foggily he regarded her, trying to form a coherent answer. What the devil
would
he do if she didn't want him to make love to her? he wondered dejectedly. He had never forced a woman in his life, and not even to possess this beguiling little siren was he going to start now—even if every instinct cried out to the contrary. “I suppose,” he said heavily, his reluctance obvious, “that you would leave and we wouldn't make love.”
The idea of
not
making love to him, of not knowing what it would be like to lie in his arms and feel his strong body move against hers, was suddenly so painful to Tess that she could not bear it. It was as if she had waited years for him, had hungered for his kiss and possession for such a long time, that to wait one moment longer was unthinkable.
Astonishing both of them, she flung her arms passionately around his neck. Raining soft, achingly sweet kisses across his face, she murmured, “Then I think that I had better stay, don't you?”
Chapter Six
W
ith something between a groan and a laugh, Nicolas swept her into his arms and carried her across the room to the waiting bed. Together they sank into the welcoming softness of the quilts on the feather-filled mattress.
If Tess knew even a moment of uncertainty, it vanished the instant Nicolas's mouth closed on hers. His kisses were every bit as intoxicating and drugging as the brandy, and with a sigh of pleasure she offered her mouth and body and pushed aside all the doubts and fears of the day. Tomorrow would be soon enough to worry about who she was and the consequences of tonight. Right now, she needed this man, needed his warmth and power, needed the sweet sense of belonging, the sure feeling that
this
was meant to happen.
He kissed her hungrily, his tongue seeking entrance to the honey warmth behind her lips, and shyly, hesitantly, Tess opened her mouth to give him what he sought. Nicolas gave a small satisfied groan when his tongue surged into her mouth, and Tess's fingers unconsciously dug into his broad back at the explosion of feeling that erupted through her at that betraying sound. The warm intimacy of his tongue leisurely exploring her mouth was a revelation to her, the notion of something so simple giving so much pleasure, arousing so many new emotions within her, utterly overwhelming. Her body felt as if it were on fire, her breasts swelling, yearning for his touch, her loins aching and demanding release from the increasingly voluptuous sensations that racked her.
It was an intoxicating madness to lie in his arms, to have his knowing mouth wreak its rapture on hers, to feel his hard body pushing hers deeper into the soft mattress. Her arms were wrapped tightly around his neck, her restless fingers tangling in his thick dark hair. Until this moment, Tess had never been so vitally aware of the elemental difference between men and women. His broad chest was crushed against her breasts, his lower body was half lying on hers, the rigid bar of flesh between his legs pressed insistently against her thigh, and she was both excited and frightened by the wanton certainty that whoever she may be, whatever her past, after tonight she would never be the same again.
But it didn't matter; none of it mattered, except that she be freed from these sweet demons that rode her, that she find her way with this man to the thrilling pinnacle she knew awaited them. How she knew what great pleasure she would find in his arms was a mystery, but she knew it, knew it with every fiber of her being.
Nicolas's lips slid from her mouth, down her throat, and Tess's clothes suddenly felt too tight, too restricting, the worn material pressing too tightly against her breasts, rubbing too persistently against her entire body. She twisted helplessly beneath him, and as if guessing her discomfort, he laughed low and brushed a teasing hand over her breast, lingering on her nipples.
Tess gasped, her eyes flying open at the sharp sensation that shot through her as his fingers toyed lightly with her peaked nipple. Astonished, she stared at his dark, lean face, hardly able to believe how desperately she wanted to be naked—to have him touch her again in just that manner, but with no barriers between them. To her mortification, she saw that her own questing hands had already half pushed off his shirt. The sight of his near naked chest, of that smooth, heavily muscled expanse of golden skin, made something clench deep within her body.
Nicolas smiled at the expression on her face and said with far more lightness than he felt, “I think it's time to dispense with these infernal bits of cloth, don't you?”
Dazedly Tess nodded, watching breathlessly as he rose from the bed and carelessly shrugged out of his garments. In naked splendor, one brow cocked quizzically, he stared back at her.
“Does, er, everything meet with m'lady's approval?” he asked mockingly, his black eyes full of sensual amusement.
Oh my! Tess thought giddily. Meet with her approval? Oh
yes
! He was beautiful! Undeniably the most beautiful creature, human or otherwise, she had ever seen in her life, she admitted, almost mesmerized by the way the wavering candlelight caressed his golden brown flesh. Despite the broadness of his shoulders, his powerful arms and height, there was nothing coarse about his body—he was elegantly made, his hips lean and narrow, his long legs well shaped and attractively muscled. Tess could not tear her gaze away from him, the feeling of familiarity once again very strong. Did she know him? Had they been lovers? Almost angrily she pushed aside the questions, unaware how hungrily her eyes were moving over him, unaware of how her unabashedly admiring stare was affecting him.
As the seconds passed, Nicolas could feel the rampant heat rising deep within him, could feel his already hard and aching member growing larger and stiffer, and he wondered if she knew how close he was to losing control. It was all he could do to just stand there and let her look her fill. Only the knowledge that shortly he intended to take his own thorough enjoyment of
her
charms kept him where he stood. But it was not easy, not when his hot blood was clamoring in his veins, not when his entire body was nearly trembling from the force of desire she aroused by a few mere kisses.
The sight of his naked form did odd things to Tess's breathing; her heart seemed to be acting even more erratically than it had since she had first laid eyes on him. He was so beautiful, she thought again, so handsome, from the top of his head to the soles of his feet. And in between . . . oh, in between, was simply
fascinating
.... Those straight shoulders and the sleekness of his broad chest had certainly earned her admiration, but it was the lower area, the area covered by a thick fleecy pelt of inky black curly hair, that held her rapt stare—that and the impressive shaft that thrust upright and unashamedly between his thighs. Oh my! she thought again, how
very
handsome!
A glint entered the violet eyes, and demurely she said, “I'm sure that very few females have ever found fault with anything that you possess!”
Nicolas grinned and crossed the small space that divided them. Dropping a brief kiss on her mouth, he said huskily, “If you have nothing more to say, sweetheart, I think that it is
my
turn to find out if, underneath that deplorable gown, you are as lovely as I have imagined these past few hours.”
Tess's eyes got very big and round, and her breathing grew even more ragged. She'd known this moment would come, but it suddenly seemed an enormous step to take, and she didn't know whether she was thrilled or terrified at the idea of being naked before him. But as she lost herself in the depths of those hypnotic black eyes, she found herself dazedly pulling at her gown, needing to be rid of it, needing to have nothing between his warm gaze and her body.
Nicolas helped her, his big hands moving surely over the fastenings of the gown, lifting it over her head. The gown was disposed of in seconds, and it fell in a rumpled heap at the foot of the bed where Nicolas tossed it.
His own breathing was strained and uneven at the sight of her kneeling so sweetly in the middle of the quilt-strewn bed in nothing more than a frilly chemise of fine lawn, her fire red hair falling wildly about her soft, white shoulders. Above the chemise he could see the swell of the tops of her small breasts, and he was conscious of an aching tenderness. She was so delicate, so exquisitely made, that he almost feared to continue this tormenting little game, afraid that the treacherous hold he had on his passion would shatter and that he would fall on her like a ravening beast, unable to stop himself until he had satisfied the demons of desire that clawed through him.
His fingers tightened on the flimsy material of the chemise, the urge to rip it from her body very strong, and it was then that he actually noticed the chemise for the first time. A little frown appeared between his eyes. He was no expert on women's apparel, but this garment was vastly different in material and workmanship from the old gown he had thrown on the floor. It was very expensive, he decided, having clothed the occasional mistress in his day. It was finely made and definitely not the sort of clothing a tavern wench would be wearing.
His troubled gaze traveled to her face, the patrician cast to her features striking him anew. She didn't belong here, he mused uncomfortably, the conviction growing that she was no common tavern wench. Hell! She was no
common
anything! But who was she? And what the devil was she doing here? More important, why did he feel that he had met her before? His eyes narrowed as an unpleasant thought occurred to him. Was it a trap? Was some matchmaking mama so determined to marry off her daughter that she would sink to these depths?
Tess sensed the change in him, and her violet eyes lifted to his dark face. “What is it?” she asked softly. “Don't I please you?”
Not please him? Nicolas groaned at the ridiculousness of her question, suddenly not caring to pursue his own uneasy speculations further. He wanted her, he craved her, his body was on fire to have her, and by heaven, he would have her—and matchmaking mamas be damned!
Unable to help himself, in one violent motion he ripped the chemise down the middle, destroying it as much because of the questions the garment aroused as for the driving need to finally see the tempting flesh it covered. His breath caught in his throat at the incredible loveliness he had revealed.
She was everything he had imagined she would be and more, her skin as smooth and pale as the finest alabaster; her shape, the proud little bosom, slim waist and hips, and delicate, utterly feminine thighs undoubtedly fashioned by the gods. His own personal Venus, Nicolas thought hazily, his gaze dropping down the length of her. Her breasts were small and high, the pale apricot aureoles and nipples making his mouth ache to touch them. Impulsively he did just that, bending forward to flick his tongue against their sweetness, his hands closing around her hips, pulling her forward.
Tess arched up uncontrollably at the feel of his warm mouth and tongue against her naked flesh, and her fingers clenched in the thick black hair on his head. The sensations that seared through her as he suckled hungrily at her breast made her moan softly and sway helplessly in his hold, her pelvis rocking lightly against him. His low growl of approval when their flesh met drew her deeper and deeper into this powerful web of desire, until she was boneless with longing, eager to discover what further magic she might find in his arms.
The sweetness of her response to his caresses, the tantalizing brush of her lower body against his, were almost more than Nicolas could bear. His hands tightened fiercely around her hips and he jerked her hard against him. Buffeted by the elemental emotions that tore through him, he kissed her with urgency, his tongue surging boldly into her mouth as he mimicked the motions of his lower body, where his swollen, aching member slid smoothly back and forth between her thighs.
Tess returned his kisses with an ardor that matched his, trembling with the force of the desire that held her in its inescapable grip. She was mindless with wanting, her arms wrapped passionately around his neck as they kissed with increasing urgency, their hands moving wildly over each other's bodies. Tess delighted in the feel of his hard back and muscled arms, but it wasn't enough. Instinctively her thighs clamped tightly around his shaft and she ground her body down along its length, discovering a new source of pleasure. She did it again and again, the fire low in her belly making her insensible to everything but the primeval need that dominated her. When Nicolas's hands suddenly clamped tightly on her hips, stilling her blatantly carnal movements, she gave a soft cry of despair.
“Shh, sweetheart,” he breathed against her mouth. “Delicious as this is, we're going to have to stop it—unless you want me to disgrace myself this very instant!”
Tess blinked at him, not having the faintest idea what he was talking about, her body trembling with unsatisfied hunger. She ached. She burned. She wanted.
Needed.
What she was feeling was there on her expressive face, and Nicolas groaned at the sight of all that sweet passion—all that sweet passion just for him. She was no more in control of her emotions than he was. Pushing her back into the mattress, he slid onto the bed and then pulled her into his arms.
There was an intentness about him now that made Tess shiver with excitement. His hand barely brushed her breasts before it traveled downward across her flat belly to the tangle of fiery curls at the junction of her thighs. He lingered there but a second, pulling gently on the short soft hair, before his fingers found the sweet, plump flesh hidden beneath the tiny curls.

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