Nicole Jordan (31 page)

Deverill evidently understood her need, for his hand shifted lower, covering her abdomen with slow, erotic strokes, then gliding farther down between her legs to part the lips of her sex. When he slipped two fingers inside her, testing her slickness, creating an exquisite pressure, Antonia’s responding whimper was a wordless plea for him to cease tormenting her.

Keeping his fingers deep inside her, he eased his knees between her thighs and stretched out over her. His naked chest grazed her nipples, while his sinewed thighs pressed hers wider. She writhed at the delicious intimacy, barely hearing his husky order.

“Look at me, sweeting.”

She obeyed, gazing up at him. His eyes seemed lit by raw flames, so hot she was sure they would make her burst into flame herself. When she shuddered, he smiled.

“I like you trembling for me.”

“Please, Deverill . . . I want you. . . .”

“I know.”

He
did
know, for he felt the same desire. Deverill clenched his jaw at the sharp, fevered wanting that spiraled through him. The primal urge to ravish Antonia and fill her and claim her. A craving so rich, so potent, so fierce, he thought he might die if he didn’t satisfy it soon. His shaft felt iron-hard and huge—which thankfully reminded him of her near virginal state.

Spreading her juices with his fingers to ease the friction, he very carefully slid his fullness inside her in a slow, heavy lunge. Involuntarily Antonia’s inner muscles clenched around him, while her body tensed at the large invasion.

Deverill gritted his teeth, forcing himself to wait until her tender tissues grew accustomed to his penetration. He was physically under control but the
feelings stampeding through him were anything but calm.

With herculean effort, he kept still, counting his violent heartbeats and hers, until finally he felt the tension in her body begin to ease and her panting breaths began to slow.

“Better now?” he asked hoarsely, lowering his lips to press light, soothing kisses over her sweat-dampened face.

“Yes.”

“Then wrap your legs around me,” he ground out.

Trustingly, she twined her slender calves around his thighs, her arms around his shoulders, her blue eyes wide and dark and luminous with heat as she stared up at him.

Lord, he could so easily get lost in her.

Instead, he forced himself to remain still, even as he grew so hard and heavy inside her, he thought he might burst.

Surprisingly, it was Antonia who took the next step. Deverill sucked in a sharp breath when she rocked her hips cautiously against his.

Holding her gaze, he drew himself out slowly . . . and just as slowly surged in again.

“Yes . . .” Antonia whispered, lifting her hips to meet his.

He allowed her to set the pace, allowed her to take him in as deeply and fully as she could. Soon her tentative undulations took on a more urgent rhythm. Deverill arched over her, the heavy muscles of his shoulders taut as he struggled to remain in control. But the wanting between them grew; the explosive pressure built.

Her body took over completely then, her hips moving in an instinctive dance of passion, her fingers clenching at his back, her lips parting in sobbing cries of pleasure.

Deverill couldn’t help himself; he took her mouth in a hard kiss, his tongue plunging in deep and ravenous, his blood surging when Antonia responded in kind. Pleasure rushed and pounded through him, hard and furious, as she returned his kiss measure for measure.

Sunlight poured down on them, a swirling mosaic of light and heat and shifting colors, illuminating their frantic dance of lips and tongues and limbs.

One more urgent lunge ignited a sensual explosion inside her. Antonia heaved in his arms, crying out. Deverill felt her ripple and convulse in her ecstasy, felt her contractions grip and pull him farther inside.

Heat poured into his chest and expanded. “God . . . Antonia.” Her name rasped in his throat as the hot, clutching pulses of her orgasm milked him. A heartbeat later, his groan turned to a hoarse shout as he contracted helplessly, pouring himself into her, the searing flood of his release drenching her completely.

In the aftermath of his harsh, powerful climax, Deverill barely refrained from collapsing upon her. Weakly, he braced his weight on his forearms as the fire slowly receded. His senses gradually returned to awareness. . . . The hot sunlight beating down on his back, the rhythmic murmur of the waves, the incredible softness of the woman beneath him. It had been unique, shattering, to make love to Antonia.

He’d never been so lost in a woman, never been so profoundly shaken.

Taking a steadying breath, Deverill lifted his head to gaze down at her. Her face was flushed and hazed with desire, her eyes passion-drenched and lustrous as she watched him.

“That was . . .” Her husky voice faltered momentarily, and she wet her swollen lips before continuing. “Simply beautiful.”

Unexpectedly, Deverill felt his heart soar. He shouldn’t feel so absurdly giddy at her praise, so much like a moonstruck youth, yet he couldn’t restrain the foolish emotion.

“It was indeed beautiful,” he agreed, pressing a light, chaste kiss on her forehead.

Her eyes fluttered shut, and she exhaled a contented sigh.

Carefully, he eased himself from between her thighs and rolled bonelessly onto his back, carrying her with him. For long moments he simply lay there, savoring the peace.

Feeling the same tranquillity, Antonia nestled against him, her limbs trembling with aftershocks, her thoughts overwhelmed by how exquisite Deverill’s lovemaking had been. The experience was more beautiful than anything she’d ever dreamed of in her wildest fantasies.

The memory was still with her. She could feel his muscular, golden body driving into hers, gleaming with sweat, his enormous power leashed for her sake.

His possessiveness had thrilled and excited her, yet he had made her feel cherished as well. He had taken her as a lover should, tender yet impossibly demanding.

Her fantasies didn’t even come close to the raw reality of him. The mere feel of Deverill inside her had filled her with such yearning, she had wanted to weep with pleasure.

She’d never known she could yearn that fiercely, that completely, with every nerve and fiber of her body. Even now she felt it thrumming inside her. She wondered if Deverill felt the same yearning. He remained unmoving except for his light caresses; with sleepy eroticism, his fingers moved over her bare hip, drawing lazy patterns on her skin.

Antonia nuzzled her face in the curve of his shoulder, breathing in deeply. She could smell the spicy fragrance of their lovemaking, the musky male scent of his body.

His naked, beautiful golden body.

Wanting to see him, Antonia slowly raised herself up on one elbow. His eyes were closed, a faint smile of contentment curving his lips. Seeing his expression, she felt a rich, new hunger stir to life low in her center.

Moments ago she’d had a fleeting sense of just how much power she could wield over Deverill. It was a heady thing to know she could affect him that way.

Hoping to rekindle the spark, she reached out to touch the hard, warm flesh of his abdomen.

“Give me a moment to recover,” Deverill murmured in that husky voice that rumbled through her.

Antonia felt her pulse quicken. In a moment he would take her again. Anticipation blossomed once more inside her, merging into a persistent deep ache inside her that began and ended with Deverill.

She was willing to wait, though. At least, that was what she sternly told herself.

In the meantime, she ran her hand over his chest, pausing when she encountered a savage scar. That ravaged flesh tore at her heart. Aching inside, she bent her head to his rib cage, kissing him softly, the barest brush of lips to skin heated by her breath.

When her mouth tenderly caressed a puckered ridge, Deverill suddenly opened his eyes and grasped her hand. The dark intensity of his gaze startled her. He obviously didn’t want her kissing his scars, didn’t want the reminder of the pain he had endured.

“It has been more than a moment,” Antonia said, trying to infuse lightness into her tone. “And I am ready for my next lesson.”

Deverill stared at her suspiciously, his chest tightening at the concern he saw in the blue depths of her eyes. But now was not a time for dark thoughts, he reminded himself, and certainly not the resurrection of his demons. Not when particular male parts of his anatomy were being resurrected instead. His mouth curved as his shaft stirred to new life.

“Eager, are we?” he said, keeping his tone teasing.

Her smile was half seductive, half shy—and made his whole heart turn over. Deverill reached up to brush his fingers over her still-flushed face. “We shouldn’t keep you out in the sun so long that your pretty skin burns, but I think a bath is in order.”

“A bath? But Deverill, I asked you to show me pleasure—”

“Hush, this will be pleasurable, I promise you.”

Rising from the blanket, he scooped Antonia up in his arms and carried her into the water, wading out until the waves were knee-high. Then he set her on her feet and made her stand obediently while he enjoyed the intense pleasure of washing her all over. . . . Cupping his hands in the salt water and letting it dribble over her sleek skin. Stroking her slender arms, her ripe breasts, her flat stomach, her beckoning woman’s mound. Watching her as she shut her eyes in bliss and shuddered at his every touch.

His loins had already hardened to an excruciating ache, but the sight of her gleaming wet body, naked and so utterly alluring against the splendor of the sea, set his pulses to pounding. A siren indeed.

And that was before it was Antonia’s turn to wash
him.
When she smoothed her hands over him, taking her own sweet time to torment him as he’d done her, he lost any semblance of patience.

Dragging her against the scorching hunger of his body, Deverill drew her with him toward shore. At the waves’ edge, he fell back onto the wet sand, spreading Antonia over him, to her obvious surprise and delight.

Her laughter sang out as she splayed over his body, but as his gaze locked with hers, the playful moment turned heated and restless once more.

They stared at each other, foam surging around them in sensual, rhythmic pulses.

Striving for control, Deverill tightened his arms around her. Feverishly, his hands stroked down her back, tracing the dip of her spine, running over the curves of her derriere to cup each buttock in a large palm, contouring the taut flesh.

Antonia shivered visibly, but then shook her head. Catching him by surprise, she pushed herself up to straddle his thighs. “I want to pleasure
you
this time.”

Reaching down, she wrapped her slender fingers around his thick shaft. The coolness was delicious against his burning flesh, and so was the slow glide of her grasp. She clearly remembered that he’d once shown her how he liked his cock to be stroked, but this time was not for him.

“Later,” he rasped. “You can pleasure me later. Now is for you.”

Raising his hands, he filled his palms with her breasts. The mounds were slick, her nipples dark and fully aroused, and he took great satisfaction in watching her.

“Let me see your pleasure, siren,” he urged in a husky, tender tone.

Obeying, Antonia let her head fall back as he squeezed her throbbing breasts, teased her thrusting nipples between his hard fingers. Her flesh was hot and tender and exquisitely sensitive to his touch, and his every tormenting caress sent shocking waves of delight to her core.

Yet it wasn’t enough, Antonia acknowledged, achingly aware of his swollen arousal nestled so provocatively at her feminine cleft. She wanted to feel Deverill on her and in her, to join with him and experience the ecstasy they had shared earlier.

Once again he seemed to know exactly what she craved, for his hands grasped her hips and lifted her slightly, until her naked center was poised over his rigid shaft.

Her eyes widened when she realized what he intended; she hadn’t known lovemaking was possible from this position. She gazed down at him, feeling a dizzyingly heady mix of desire and anticipation.

But then any thoughts regarding the novelty of it fled as Deverill slowly lowered her onto his hot, pulsing erection. Antonia’s soft, keening moan echoed around the secluded cove as once more a fiery, restless need swept over her.

It was incredible, the contrasting sensations she
felt . . . the cool caress of the water, the heat sizzling through her blood, the thick hardness of Deverill’s male flesh impaling her, the arousing pressure of his hands. . . .

He made her burn and shiver by turns. He made her feel wild and reckless and out of control.

His fingers clenched on her hips, rocking her in time to the deep thrusting of his shaft, and Antonia responded, her body undulating with each upward surge of his hips, their rhythm as timeless as the swell of the sea.

“Show me your pleasure,” Deverill demanded more urgently, propelling her toward a wrenching, powerful release.

Antonia had no choice as the rapture overtook her. Her head flung back, she cried out her passion, the hot, bright ecstasy spasming through her as vivid as the sun.

An ecstasy that shattered Deverill’s control and swept him along with her in its searing wake.

Fourteen