Tempest in Eden (15 page)

"Ian," Bishop Collins said, coming through the door, "you'd better hurry or your bride—" He fell silent when he saw them.

For the first time Shay consciously noted her near nakedness, and she and Ian sprang apart. Ian seemed excruciatingly aware of the evidence of his arousal. Shay splayed her hands over her breasts and whirled around to give the bishop her back, modest and embarrassed for almost the first time in her life.

Bishop Collins harrumphed, and his white brows dropped chastisingly above eyes that danced with wicked delight. "I think the sooner we get to the church the better," he said dryly.

The lights marking the pathways of Central Park twinkled. From the window of their suite at the Plaza Hotel, Shay could see the horse-drawn hansoms lined up, waiting for customers to tour the park. She and Ian would be the residents of the opulent suite for three days, a wedding gift from John and Celia.

She was unaccountably nervous as she stood at the window, knotting, loosening, and reknotting the ribbon tie that held her negligee closed under her bosom.

The wedding ceremony had been the most beautiful experience of her life. In the church amber votives had flickered among greenery and autumn chrysanthemums. While Celia had sniffed daintily from the front pew, Bishop Collins had conducted the ceremony, much of which Shay and Ian had written themselves. It had nothing to do with tradition, with the laws of the state, with anything except the love they were pledging to each other.

Breaking standard practice, Ian led their wedding prayer, invoking God's blessings on their life together. Tears shimmered in Shay's eyes when she lifted her lips for his kiss. Sweet and tender, it conveyed all the love he had for her. It seared her soul and welded it to Ian's, forming a bond that she knew could never be broken.

Now, waiting for him to come out of the bathroom, she was a bundle of nerves, trembling like the few remaining leaves on the trees in the park that threatened to break away with the next puff of chill air. She didn't know how to act or what to do.

They had embraced numerous times since the night he had proposed. Such embraces had always been ardent. The morning last summer when she had awakened in his arms, his hands and lips caressing her, she had been given a preview of what Ian's lovemaking would be like. He would be earnest and tender, but controlled in his response.

She longed for an adventurous sex life. Only after she'd divorced Anson had she come to realize with maturity that their lovelife had been rather routine. But she didn't expect Ian to share her desire for variety and experimentation.

After all, Mary had died over two years ago. He hadn't been with a woman since then. And he
was
a minister. Wouldn't the normal restrictions that were placed on a man of the cloth in everyday life apply to the marriage bed as well?

If he were awkward or restrained, she'd just have to be patient with him and try not to show her disappointment. She didn't want to shock or offend him on their wedding night. Their sex life may take time to develop to their mutual satisfaction.

The bathroom door opened. The light remained on. Shay shaped her mouth into a smile and turned around. Across the moonlit room, Ian was walking toward her … naked.

The shape and symmetry of his limbs was a study in human perfection. He was exactly what she thought God must have had in mind on the day of Creation. The tapering torso with its blanket of dark hair could be envied by even the most virile of men. His sex was bold, proud, unashamed.

Unlike the first time she'd seen him this way, Shay's mouth went dry, and she stammered the first thought that came into her mind. "You … you left the light on."

He smiled lazily as he came to her and gently closed his hands around her throat. His thumbs took turns stroking her lips. "I wanted to see you."

"Oh," she replied, nervously twisting her hands between their bodies in the space that was gradually decreasing. "Aren't you cold?"

"How can a man on fire be cold?"

Done with silly conversation, he ducked his head. His tongue outlined her lips leisurely, leaving them dewy and glistening. He almost sipped them dry before he molded his lips to hers, parted them with his tongue, and entered her mouth to taste all of her. His tongue left nothing untouched, exploring with thorough boldness and total possession.

Her knees buckled beneath her, and she clung to him for support. He blazed a hot path of impassioned kisses down the side of her neck to the hollow above her collarbone. "You have on too many clothes," he complained gently.

"Do I?" she breathed, her vision fogged, her ears ringing.

"Uh-huh. May I?" He took her soft moan to be consent and untied the ribbon beneath her breasts. The robe fell away, and he slipped it off her shoulders to float to their feet in a frothy heap.

He murmured his appreciation of the nightgown she had so carefully selected. Lace sheathed the perfect globes of her breasts, her nipples dusky shadows beneath it. The gown fell straight and, clinging, outlined her slender thighs.

"So lovely." He smiled. His hands came up to lightly glide over her breasts. He watched them lovingly as he caressed her, and his eyes became smoky with desire when she felt them blossoming with passion. No longer the shy shadows, her nipples impudently expressed their need. "I want to kiss you here." He took one tightened bud between his fingers and caressed it with almost imperceptible movement.

Her hands fastened on his waist as she swayed toward him and whimpered softly. "Yes, Ian, yes."

He didn't remove the gown immediately, but kissed her through the lace, scratching his limber tongue over the sensitized nipples until Shay's fingers dug into his skin.

"You're sweet, so sweet," he said, finally peeling down the straps of the nightgown. She helped him by shrugging out of it as it settled around her waist. He looked at her breasts and love poured out of his eyes like liquid sapphires. He cradled one lush breast in his palm and lifted it to his thirsting mouth.

He drank his fill while she writhed against him with mounting desire that threatened to destroy her. First one breast, then the other, knew the complete loving of his mouth. He took her nipple and part of the soft mound into that hot, wet mouth and treated it to a gentle suckling before his tongue nudged her nipple to firmer distension.

"Oh, Ian, that feels so good." Her phrases were disjointed from uneven breathing.

"You're delicious." His hand trailed down her spine to the small of her back. When it entangled with the nightgown that still rested there, he brought it down as he followed the womanly curve of her hip.

When she stood as naked as he, he straightened to his full height, took several deep breaths, and said, "I want to look at you. It seems as if I've waited all my life for the privilege."

He took a step backward. His eyes started at the top of her head. As though seeing her for the first time, he analyzed her irregular halo of golden hair and each feature of her face with adoring, worshipful eyes.

As he continued his visual tour downward, each separate part of her flamed to life: her sloping shoulders and slender throat; her full, round breasts crowned with coral nipples that strained toward him; her narrow waist and flaring hips; her long, pale legs.

He looked up at her and smiled. "Do you remember when you arched your back and thrust your breasts forward that first night while I was drying dishes?"

"You almost dropped the plate."

"I almost dropped my scruples, too. I wanted to rip off your blouse and see if your breasts were as perfect as they promised to be."

"Are you disappointed?"

In answer, he leaned forward and kissed both delicate crests. "Far from disappointed." He cleared his throat and straightened again. "I'm digressing. Turn around."

Docilely she obeyed. He lifted her arms to extend horizontally out from her body. His fingertips traveled down her sides, following the dip of her waist and the curve of her hips. He tested the round fullness of her bottom with gently squeezing hands. On the way back up his hands slid around her body and trailed up her rib cage to close over her breasts. He came up behind her, solid and hard and warm.

With the tip of his nose, he moved her hair aside and whispered in her ear. "You're exquisite."

Her hands folded around his where they held her breasts like cherished works of art. "So are you. I love the way you look. I have from the moment I saw you stepping out of that shower." She twisted, and their mouths met and held for a long kiss over her shoulder.

Without breaking their kiss, Ian turned her to face him and drew her against him in a way that left his level of arousal no secret. Like a rod of velvet-covered steel, his manhood burrowed into her abdomen. "It's time, Shay. I'm going to love you."

He bent slightly at the knees and folded his arms beneath her hips. When he straightened, his head was even with her breasts. He moved his face between them as he carried her to the bed and laid her down. A hospitable housekeeper had turned down the bed while they were at dinner.

She felt like a statue infused with life as she lay there, her hair spread out behind her head on the snowy, scented linen. Her breasts flattened but only slightly when she lay on her back, so well were they fashioned. Her stomach formed a shallow valley beneath her delicate ribcage. A soft, golden tuft of hair at the top of her thighs was a visible reminder that she wasn't marble, but flesh and blood. Shyly alluring, her legs lay together gracefully.

Ian's knees sank into the mattress as he knelt over her. "I could almost be content just looking at you." He kissed her, his tongue meandering roguishly inside her mouth. "Almost."

His hands fondled her breasts again, his fingertips preparing the way for the lips that closed around nipples aching with love.

Shay wound his glossy black hair around her fingers and held his head fast as it moved with seductive slowness over her body. The daring of his tongue was never ending. On the curves of her breast, the pouting nipples, the dimple of her navel, it danced to an erotic tune. The sweet nibbling of his teeth brought every cell in her body to full awareness. As he dropped rapid, damp kisses on the fevered skin of her abdomen, her muscles contracted in ecstatic reaction.

His inquisitive hands were never satisfied. Repeatedly he caressed her most intimately, whispering how pretty she was there. Her throat arched as her head dug into the pillow. She became mindless to anything but his talented touches and the verbal tributes he paid her.

Her body softened as she allowed his hands and mouth to do as they wished, to shape as they would. She throbbed with a desire so intense that a gasp tore through her lips when his fingers gently parted and tenderly probed the innermost source of her passion.

With softly spoken directions and instructive hands, he positioned them so they might fully enjoy each other. Taking her hand, his tongue rasped across each of her fingertips before he lowered her hand and covered himself with it. "Touch me, Shay." His voice was husky with driving desire, but kind, unhurried, considerate. When she applied a squeezing pressure, she was gratified to hear his ragged sigh of intense pleasure.

She savored the feel of him, his clean scent, the salty taste of his skin. It became of essential importance that she return the love he was giving to her. Her caresses grew bolder, her displays of love unrestricted.

Her eyes fluttered closed, and she trembled in the throes of the fullest stimulation she had ever experienced. His touch was magic. With fingertips, lips, and tongue he caressed parts of her that she now realized had been untouched before. She hadn't known what sexual loving was until this moment of unselfish physical sharing with Ian.

She felt her stomach tighten, and reflexively her thighs did the same. Her breasts quivered with new excitement, and she felt herself slipping off the edge of the world.

But she didn't want to go alone.

"Ian," she called, desperately hoping she had managed to voice that beloved name aloud, for she was moving ever faster toward that splendid oblivion. She pulled unmercifully on his hair until he turned, lifted himself over her, and entered her body.

"Shay.My wife. I love you dearly."

He sank deeper into her tight warmth, and she surrounded him with her love.

When she did fall off the edge of the universe, he was with her, there to catch her to him gently when she coasted back to earth.

"Shay?"

Her whispered name came to her like a ghost. She had awakened with a smile of self-derision on her face. Whatever had made her think Ian might not be an expert lover? He had spent the night proving the contrary to her. Her body was pleasantly replete in the aftermath of his extraordinary lovemaking. Apparently he didn't think the night was over.

"Hmmm?" she mumbled sleepily. She lay on her stomach, her face nestled in the pillow. He was stretched out alongside her, his body partially covering hers. The feel of his resilient body hair on her naked flesh was causing tiny aftershocks of delight, which she'd thought long spent, to erupt again.

"Lift up a little," he urged, as his lips sampled the skin on the back of her neck.

She obliged, and his hands slid beneath her to knead her breasts. He evenly distributed his weight over her as he settled himself between her thighs.

"Oh … Ian, that's … nice," she said brokenly as his hands once again stirred her to dizzying heights. One smoothed down her stomach to a target eagerly waiting for his touch.

Again he became her teacher, instructing her on how both of them could derive the most pleasure. Before she once again lost her reason, she spoke what was on her mind. "It's never been this way for me, Ian. I … ah, darling, that's wonderful… I didn't think it would be this way with you."

"How did you think it would be? Not so fast … that's it. Perfect, perfect, Shay."

She squeezed her eyes shut and took in a great breath. What he was doing was so sublime, she didn't know if she could speak. "More conventional. We…" No, she couldn't mention anyone else's name, not now. It would be profane. And she didn't want to think about Ian and Mary, or her jealousy would kill her. "I knew it could be like this but only through literature, books … movies…" She broke off with a sigh that spiraled to a musical refrain.