“After the fight, when you backed away from me …”
She did smile then, couldn’t help herself. “Lyon, the little skirmish I witnessed couldn’t possibly be called a fight … and you actually thought I was afraid?”
He was so surprised by her comment, he immediately defended himself. “Well, I’ll admit that I didn’t think it was much of a fight either, but when you stared at me with such a frightened look on your face I naturally assumed you were upset. Hell, Christina, most women would have been hysterical.”
By the time he’d finished his statement, he’d gone from sounding very matter-of-fact to muttering with irritation.
“Was it my duty to weep, Lyon? I apologize if I’ve displeased you, but I’ve still to understand all your laws.”
“You could make a duck daft,” Lyon announced.
Because he was grinning down at her, Christina decided not to let her exasperation show. “You’re the most confusing man,” she remarked. “I have to keep reminding myself that you’re English.”
The temptation was too compelling. Before she could stop her inclination, she reached out to touch his chest. The heat in his skin felt good against her fingertips, the mat of hair crisp yet soft.
“I wasn’t afraid of you, Lyon,” Christina whispered, avoiding his eyes now. “I’ve never been afraid of you. How could I be? You’re such a gentle, kind man.”
He didn’t know how to answer her. She sounded almost in awe of him. She was wrong, of course. He’d never been kind or gentle. A man could change, though. Lyon determined to be anything and everything Christina wanted him to be. By God, if she thought him gentle, then gentle he’d be.
“You really are a warrior, aren’t you, Lyon?”
“Do you want me to be?” he asked, sounding confused.
“Oh, yes,” Christina answered, daring a quick look up.
“Warriors aren’t gentle,” he reminded her.
She didn’t want to press the issue because she knew he wouldn’t understand. He was wrong, but it would be rude of her to set him straight. Her hands slipped around his neck, her fingers entwining in his soft, curly hair.
She felt him shudder; his muscles tightened.
Lyon would have spoken to her, but he was certain his voice would betray him. Her touch was driving him to distraction.
Gentle, he cautioned himself, I have to be gentle with her. He placed a kiss on her forehead. Christina closed her eyes and sighed, encouraging him. He kissed her on the bridge of her freckled nose next and finally reached her soft lips.
It was a very gentle kiss. Sweet. Undemanding.
Until her tongue touched his. The hunger inside him seemed to ignite. The feeling was so intoxicating, so overpowering, he forgot all about gentleness. His tongue penetrated her warmth, tasting, probing, taking.
When Christina pulled him closer, his demand increased until all he could think about was filling her … completely.
She wasn’t resisting. No, her soft moans told him she didn’t want him to stop. Her hips cuddled his arousal. He knew her action was instinctive, yet the way she slowly arched against him made him wild. She felt so good, so right.
Lyon dragged his mouth away from hers with a harsh groan. “I want to make love to you, Christina,” he whispered against her ear. “If we’re going to stop, it has to be now.”
Christina’s head fell back as Lyon rained wet kisses along the column of her throat. Her hands, still entwined in his hair, clenched, pulled, begged.
He knew he’d soon be past the caring point. Lyon tried to separate himself from the torment. “God, Christina, walk away from me. Now.”
Walk away? Dear Lord, she could barely stand up. Every part of her body responded to his touch. She could hear the anger in his voice, could feel the tension in his powerful hold. Her mind tried to make sense out of the confusion of his reaction. “I don’t want to stop, Lyon.”
She knew he’d heard her. Lyon clasped her shoulders, squeezed until it was painful. Christina looked into his eyes, saw the desire there. The force of his passion overwhelmed her, robbed her of her own strength to think logically.
“Do you know what you’re saying to me?”
She answered him the only way she knew how. Christina used her body to give him permission. She deliberately arched against him again, then pulled his head down toward her.
She kissed him with a passion that sent his senses reeling. Lyon was at first too stunned to do more than react to her boldness, but he soon became the aggressor again.
He wanted to pleasure her so completely that any memory of other men would be washed away. She would belong to him, now and forever.
Lyon fumbled with the fastenings at the back of her gown, his mouth fastened on hers. Christina heard the sound of material being ripped away. He suddenly pulled her hands away from him, then tore the gown completely free. The dress fell to the floor.
There were no undergarments to hinder his gaze. When he took a step back, Christina stood before him, her hands at her sides.
Her body belonged to him. He was her lion. Christina accepted the truth, repeated it again and again inside her mind, trying to overcome her shyness, her fear.
She couldn’t shield her body from him … or her heart.
Both belonged to Lyon.
Lyon’s gaze was ravenous as it swept over her. She was so perfectly formed, so very, very beautiful. Her skin was smooth, creamy-looking in the soft candlelight. Her breasts were high, full, taut. The nipples were erect, waiting for his touch. Her waist was so narrow, her stomach flat, her hips slender.
She was irresistible.
And she belonged to him.
Lyon’s hands shook when he reached for her, drew her back into his arms.
Christina gasped from the initial contact of her bare breasts against his chest. His hair tickled her, his skin warmed her, and the way he controlled his strength as he held her close to him made her forget all her fears. She was innocent of men, yes, yet she knew with a certainty that made tears come to her eyes that Lyon would be gentle with her.
She kissed his throat where she could see the throbbing of his pulse, then rested her head in the crook of his shoulder, inhaling his wonderful masculine scent, waiting for him to show her what to do.
Lyon slowly untied the ribbon from the bottom of Christina’s braid, then unwound the silky curls until a blanket of sunlight covered her back. He lifted her into his arms and carried her over to the bed, pausing only to pull the covers back before placing her in the center.
Christina tried to protest, to tell him it was her duty to undress him, but Lyon had already taken his shoes and socks off. Her voice became locked in her throat when he stripped out of the rest of his clothes, and all she could do was stare at him in wonder.
He was the most magnificent warrior she’d ever seen. The power was there, in his arms and legs. His thighs were muscular, strong, beautiful. His arousal was full, hard, and when he came to lie on top of her Christina instinctively opened herself to him. He settled himself between her thighs. Christina had barely accepted his weight before he captured her mouth for another searing kiss.
Christina wrapped her arms around his waist. His mouth had never felt so wonderful, his tongue never so exciting. His hands were never still, stroking, caressing, giving her shivers of pleasure. Their legs entwined, and when Lyon moved to take her breast into his mouth her toes brushed against his legs. Her moans of pleasure drove him wild. His hands fondled her breasts while his tongue swirled around one nipple and then the other. When he finally began to suckle, a white-hot knot of need started to burn inside her. Christina’s hips moved restlessly, rubbing against his arousal. She wanted to touch him, to worship his body the way he was worshipping hers, but the sensations coursing through her body were too new, too raw. She could only cling to him and beg him with her whimpers.
His hands settled between her thighs to tease her sensitive skin. His fingers soon made her wild with need, caressing the nub protecte
d by her soft curls until she was moist with desire. His fingers penetrated her tight sheath just as his tongue thrust into her mouth.
Lyon could feel the incredible heat of her. He was nearly out of control now, for Christina was so unashamedly responsive to his touch. He couldn’t wait much longer, knew he’d soon lose his control. He cautioned himself against hurrying her even as his thigh pushed her legs further apart.
“From this moment on you belong to me, Christina. Now and forever.”
He entered her with a swift, determined thrust, lifting her hips with his hands to penetrate her completely.
She was a virgin. The realization came late. Lyon was fully embedded inside her now. He took a deep breath and tried not to move. The effort nearly killed him. Christina was so hot, so tight; she fit him perfectly.
His heart was slamming against his chest. His breath was harsh, choppy. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he finally asked her. He propped himself up on his elbows to look down into her face. God, she hadn’t made a sound. Had he hurt her? “Why didn’t you tell me you haven’t been with a man before?” he asked again, capturing her face with his hands.
“Please, Lyon, don’t be angry,” Christina whispered.
She knew she was going to start weeping. The fierce light in his eyes frightened her. Her body was throbbing with pain from his invasion, and every muscle was tense, tingling. “I’m sorry if I disappointed you,” she apologized in a ragged voice. “But I didn’t want you to stop. Could you be disappointed later, please?”
“I’m not disappointed,” Lyon answered. “I’m very pleased.” He was trying to keep his voice soft, gentle. It was an excruciating task, because his arousal was begging for release, and all he wanted to do was spill his seed into her.
He was going to make certain she found complete satisfaction first. “I’ll try not to hurt you, Christina.”
“You already did.”
“Oh, God, I’m sorry. I’ll stop,” he promised, knowing full well he wouldn’t.
“No,” Christina protested. Her nails dug into his shoulders, keeping him inside her. “It will be better now, won’t it?”
Lyon moved, groaning over the pleasure he gained. “Do you like that?” he asked.
“Oh, yes,” Christina answered. She arched her hips up against him, pulling him higher inside her. “Do you like that?”
He might have nodded. She was too consumed by the waves of heat to notice. His mouth slanted over hers then, claiming her full attention.
Lyon tried to be tender, but she was making it an impossible quest. She kept moving against him restlessly, demandingly, urgently. Lyon’s discipline deserted him.
“Easy, love, don’t let me hurt you.”
“Lyon!”
“Christina, why did you let me think you’d been with other men?”
Lyon was stretched out on his back, his hands behind his head. Christina was cuddled up against his side, one shapely leg draped over his thigh. Her face rested on his chest. “Let you think?” she asked him.
“You know my meaning,” Lyon said, ignoring the laughter he’d heard in her voice.
“It seemed unimportant to argue with you. Your mind was set on the matter. Besides, you probably wouldn’t have believed the truth anyway.”
“I might have believed you,” he protested. He knew he was lying. No, he wouldn’t have believed her.
“Why did you think I’d—”
“It’s the way you kissed me,” Lyon explained, grinning.
“What is the matter with the way I kiss you? I was only imitating you.”
“Oh, nothing’s the matter, love. I like your… enthusiasm.”
“Thank you, Lyon,” Christina said, after she’d given him a good look to see if he was jesting with her or not. “I like the way you kiss, too.”
“What else do you imitate?” Lyon asked.
Because he was teasing her, he was unprepared for her answer. “Oh, everything. I’m quite good at it, you know, especially if I like what I’m imitating.”
“I’m sorry I hurt you, Christina,” Lyon whispered. “If you’d told me you were a virgin before, I could have made it easier for you.”
Lyon was feeling a bit guilty, but terribly arrogant, too.
She belonged to him. He hadn’t realized just how possessive he could be. Lyon wanted to believe Christina wouldn’t have given herself to him unless she loved him.
He knew she’d reached fulfillment. Lord, she’d cried out his name loud enough for the streetwalkers to hear. A smile settled on his face. She hadn’t been the delicate little flower he’d thought she was. When she let go, she let go. Wild. Totally uncontrolled. And loud, Lyon admitted. His ears were still ringing from her lusty shouts. Lyon didn’t think he could ever be happier. No, Christina hadn’t held back. He had the scratches to prove it.
Now all he wanted to hear from her was the truth inside her heart. He wanted her to tell him how much she loved him.
Lyon let out a long sigh. He was acting just like a virgin on his wedding night. Uncertain. Vulnerable.
“Lyon, do all Englishmen have such hair on their bodies?”
Her question nudged him away from his thoughts. “Some do, others don’t,” he answered with a shrug that nearly pushed her off his chest. “Haven’t you ever seen Mr. Summerton without his shirt on, love?” he teased.
“Who?”
He wasn’t going to remind her again. If the woman couldn’t keep her lies straight, he certainly wasn’t going to help. Lyon was immediately irritated. He knew it was his own fault for bringing up the lie, but that didn’t seem to matter. “Christina, now that we’ve become so intimate, you don’t have to fabricate stories any longer. I want to know everything about you,” he added, his voice a little more intense than he wished. “No matter what your childhood was like, I’ll still care for you.”
Christina didn’t want to answer his questions. She didn’t want to have to lie to him again … not now. A warm glow still surrounded her heart. Lyon had been such a tender lover. “Did I please you, Lyon?” she asked, trailing her fingers down his chest to distract him.
“Very much,” he answered. He captured her hand when she’d reached his navel. “Honey, tell me about—”
“Aren’t you going to ask me if you pleased me?” she asked, pulling her hand free of his grasp.
“No.”
“Why not?”
Lyon took a deep breath. He could feel himself getting hard again. “Because I know I pleased you,” he ground out. “Christina, stop that. It’s too soon for you. We can’t make love again.”
Her hand touched his arousal, stealing the breath out of his protest. Lyon let out a low groan. His hand dropped to his side when she began to place wet kisses on the flat of his indrawn stomach. She moved lower to taste more of him.
“No more,” Lyon commanded.
He pulled her by her hair, twisting the curls to get her attention. “If you want to tease, you’d better wait until tomorrow,” he warned. “A man can only take so much, Christina.”
“How much?” she whispered. Her mouth was getting closer to his hard shaft.
Lyon jerked her back up to his chest. “We only have this one night,” Christina protested.
“No, Christina,” Lyon said. “We have a lifetime.”
She didn’t answer him, but she knew he was wrong. Her eyes filled with tears when she turned her face away from him. Christina was almost desperate to touch him again, to taste all of him. The memory of her Lyon would have to stay with her … forever.
She lowered her head to his stomach again. She kissed him there, moved to his thighs next, and finally between them.
His scent was just as intoxicating as the taste of him. She was only given a few minutes to learn his secrets, however, before Lyon dragged her up on top of him.
He kissed her hungrily as he rolled her to his side. Christina moved her leg over his thigh and begged him with her mouth and her hands to come to her.
She was more
than ready for him. Lyon was shaken when he touched the sweet wetness between her thighs. He slowly penetrated her warmth, holding her hips in a fierce grip, determined not to let her hurt herself by pushing up against him too quickly.
She bit him on his shoulder in retaliation. Lyon was driving her mad. He slowly penetrated her, then withdrew just as slowly. It was agonizing. Maddening.
He had the patience and the endurance of a warrior. She thought she could withstand the sweet torment for the rest of her life. But Lyon was far more adept at the ways of loving than she was. When his hand slipped between them and he touched the heat of her in such a knowing way, her control completely vanished.
Her climax was unimaginable, consuming her. Christina clung to him, her face pillowed against the side of his neck, her eyes tightly closed against the hot sensations shooting through her body.
Lyon was no longer controlled. His thrusts became powerful. When she instinctively arched against him, tightened herself around him, he found his release. The force of his climax stunned him. Lyon felt it in the very depths of his soul.
He was at peace.
Several long minutes elapsed before he could slow his racing heart or his ragged breath. He was too content to move.
Christina was crying. Lyon suddenly felt the wetness of her tears on his shoulder. The realization jarred him out of his haze. “Christina?” he whispered, hugging her close to him. “Did I hurt you again?”
“No.”
“You’re all right?”
She nodded against his chin.
“Then why are you crying?”
If he hadn’t sounded so caring, she might have been able to restrain herself. There wasn’t any need to be quiet about it now, since he knew she was weeping, and she was soon wailing, loud and undignified as a crazed old squaw.
Lyon was horrified. He rolled Christina on her back, brushed her hair out of her face, and gently wiped her tears away. “Tell me, love. What is it?”
“Nothing.”
It was a ludicrous answer, of course, but Lyon held his patience. “I really didn’t hurt you?” he asked, unable to keep fear out of his voice. “Please, Christina. Quit crying and tell me what’s the matter.”
Julie Garwood - [3 Book Box Set] Page 90
