“Sydney,” he said hoarsely. “Are you sure?”
She smiled softly, pressed her lips to his.
Stunned by the force of the need pulsating through his blood, he carried her to his bed.
Eight
Sydney had never known that spontaneity could feel so wonderful. So liberating.
So exhilarating.
Reese crossed the distance to his big, beautiful four poster bed and it was all Sydney could do not to jump out of his arms onto the mattress and drag him down with her. She felt giddy with excitement and anticipation.
He lowered her not onto the bed, but let her slide slowly, sensuously down him until the tips of her feet touched the floor. She felt the tug on her apron strings behind her back, then the slide of the garment off her shoulders and down her body until it fell at her feet. Afraid that her knees wouldn’t hold her, she kept her arms wound tightly around his neck. When she lifted her face to his, she saw the desire burning in his dark gaze, the need, and she shuddered from the force of it.
Yet he held back, waiting.
She smiled at him, brought her lips an inch from his. “You’re going to make me beg, aren’t you, Sinclair?” She brushed her lips lightly against his, whispered, “Make love to me, Reese. Please make love to me.”
Her feet came off the floor as he dragged her upwards again, cupping her bottom as he lifted her, fitting her intimately against him. If there had been any doubt of his need before, there was certainly none now. His mouth all but consumed her in a hungry rush of frantic kisses.
And then, as if in slow motion, they were moving backward. As one, they glided down to the bed. Sydney sank into the soft mattress, easily took the weight of Reese’s strong body on top of hers, thought it was the most glorious feeling in the world.
Until his open mouth moved down her neck. Oh, that was glorious, too. She felt the buttons of her blouse open one by one, then the slide of silk over her skin. He flipped open the snap at the front of her white lace bra, but instead of his hand, he used his teeth to tug the soft fabric aside. She felt the rush of cool air on her bare breasts, then the rush of his warm breath.
Gasping, she arched upward.
His mouth was hot on her soft flesh, his hands were gentle and kneading. And when he pulled the sensitive tip of one breast into his mouth and laved the nipple with his hot tongue, she moaned.
She’d been wrong. This was the most glorious feeling in the world. Intense pleasure rippled in hot waves through her, pooling between her legs. On a whimper, she raked her fingers through his thick, dark hair and moved against him.
He took his time, his hands and mouth giving equal attention to each breast, until she felt like soft taffy, her insides pulling and stretching, over and over.
“Reese,” she gasped, her hands moving restlessly over his back, his shoulders. “Please…”
He rose over her then and the soft light of the bedroom lamp shone in his dark, passion-glazed eyes. His face was hard and angular, his jaw tight, his hair rumpled as he stared down at her.
“You are so beautiful,” he said hoarsely.
“Thank you,” she said breathlessly, realized dimly that even in the heat of passion, a lifetime of impeccable manners could not be ignored. She also supposed that this was the proper pillow talk she’d only heard of, but never experienced. You’re beautiful, the only one. I love you…. The things that people were supposed to say when they made love, even though they didn’t mean them.
He shook his head slowly and sighed. “You don’t believe me, do you? I can see it in your eyes that you don’t. I want you to look at me, Syd. Look in my eyes.”
Through the haze of desire humming through her body, she did as he asked.
“You’re beautiful,” he repeated softly. “You might make me crazy sometimes and confuse the hell out of me, but you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
He did mean it, she realized. Her heart soared, and she had to quickly blink back the moisture in her eyes before she ruined the moment with silly tears. His words gave her courage, unleashed the last thread of inhibition inside her.
She rose up, slid her hands over his chest and rolled on top of him as she eased him onto his back. The surprise in his eyes delighted her almost as much as the sudden feeling of power she gained from this new position.
Her gaze held his as she slowly drew her blouse off her shoulders, then her bra, and tossed them onto the floor beside the bed. His eyes grew dark and intense as he watched her.
“Those clothes might get wrinkled,” he teased. “Are you sure you don’t want to fold them?”
“Nope.” Smiling softly, she reached behind her head.
Reese’s breath caught in his throat as he watched Sydney stretch her long, lovely arms up and behind her head in a seductive pose that made his blood boil. One at a time, she pulled the pins from the knot of hair coiled on top of her head and tossed them with her clothes. When the last pin was removed, her hair tumbled down around her soft shoulders like a curtain of gold silk. Her eyes had turned a smoky blue, her skin was smooth as the finest porcelain. His gaze traveled lower and his heart slammed in his chest at the beautiful sight of her soft, full breasts and the rosy, hardened peaks that he’d tasted only moments ago.
He wanted more.
He reached for her, but she shook her head and pushed his hands to his sides. “You have too many clothes on,” she purred.
Her long, tapered fingers moved over his buttons until his shirt was open, then she slipped her hands inside and slid them over his bare chest, raking her fingernails lightly over his skin and through the dark hair on his chest. He sucked in a breath when she moved lower, over his belly, tugged his shirt from his pants, then reached for his belt buckle and pulled it open.
She glanced upward, met his gaze with hers, gave him a slow, wicked smile that made his heart hammer furiously against his ribs. Gone was the proper Ms. Sydney Taylor: in her place was a siren. A temptress. And still there was an innocence that shimmered through those sexy eyes of hers that excited him more than any other woman had before.
Her hands moved lower; she leaned forward and blazed hot little kisses over his chest. He gritted his teeth, sucked in a sharp breath at the touch of her fingers slowly, methodically, deliberately inching down the zipper of his slacks.
When he couldn’t stand it anymore, he took hold of her shoulders and flipped her onto her back, rolling with her. She gasped at the sudden movement, then just as quickly wrapped her arms around his neck. He crushed his mouth to hers while he kicked off shoes and slacks, then slid her skirt and underwear down her hips in one smooth move, taking her low-heeled black shoes with the garments and tossing everything into the pile she’d already created.
And then there was only skin touching skin.
He moved over her, kissed her temple, her cheek, the pulse at the base of her throat and an especially sensitive spot on her earlobe that made her moan. When he moved away for no more than a fraction of a moment to reach into the nightstand, she whimpered softly, called him back. Without missing a beat, he picked up where he’d left off at her earlobe and worked his way down again.
She writhed underneath him, murmured his name, whispered her pleasure while her hands moved over him, driving him as crazy as he drove her.
The heat burst into flames, consuming them. When they were both frantic with need, when he thought he would die if he waited another moment, he moved between her legs and thrust hard inside her.
Her nails dug into his back as she cried out softly.
He slammed to a stop.
“Sydney…” He struggled to speak, but it was difficult to think or form words since most of the blood from his brain had gone south. And the realization hit him like a Mack truck.
Sydney had never done this before. She was a virgin.
“Don’t stop, Reese,” she pleaded. “Please don’t stop.”
“But—”
“It doesn’t matter.” She tightened her legs aro
und him and moved her body, confusing him, exciting him even in the midst of this unexpected revelation.
“Of course it matters,” he said raggedly. “You never…you should have…”
She lifted her mouth to his and stopped his words, stopped any and all rational thoughts with her hands and her body. It was impossible not to move with the slow thrust of her hips, impossible to think of anything but the need clawing at his insides.
She set the pace and he followed, the urgency building and spiraling, coiling inside tighter and tighter.
He heard the sound of her gasp, felt the shudders ripple through her body into his, and he went over the edge with her.
She thought she would never move again. She would simply lie here forever on this big, wonderful bed, with her arms and legs twined around Reese, listening to the rapid sound of his heart beating against her own. Wanting the moment to last, she kept her eyes closed and held very still.
Her skin still tingled all over, right down to the tips of her toes. Her insides were the consistency of warm butter, and in spite of the weight of Reese’s body on top of her own, she felt as if she were floating.
She now knew the true meaning of glorious.
“I’m too heavy for you,” she heard him say. When he started to pull away, she mumbled a complaint and tightened her hold on him.
He compromised by raising himself on his elbows, then kissed her temple and cheek, then lightly brushed her lips with his. Slowly, reluctantly, she opened her eyes and looked up at him. His brow was knotted, his mouth set firm.
“Did I hurt you?”
She shook her head, smiled. “Is it always that wonderful?”
She didn’t care how naive she knew she must sound. After a life-altering experience like that, what did it matter?
He smiled back at her. “No, Syd. It isn’t always that wonderful.”
Her smile dipped. “Does that mean it’s usually better, or worse?”
Chuckling, he slid his hands up her arms. “It doesn’t get better than that, Syd.”
“Really? I mean, just because it was incredible for me, doesn’t mean that it was—”
“Sydney. Shut up, will you?”
He covered her mouth with his before she could protest, kissed her hard and deep and endlessly.
Was it possible to want this again so soon? she wondered as his hand skimmed her waist then slipped up to caress her breast.
Obviously it was.
She let herself go, gave herself up once again to the kaleidoscope of sensations and couldn’t remember once in her entire life when she’d ever been happier.
It was dark when he woke. His brain was still thick from sleep and the dream he’d had about climbing a tall, steep, snow-covered mountain, only to break through the clouds and discover a lush green meadow with wildflowers at the peak.
He scrubbed a hand over his face and thought of Sydney, then smiled. Geez, talk about symbolism.
He could hear her rustling close by, but when he reached for her she wasn’t beside him. Frowning, he sat up and turned on the bedside lamp. She was dressed, on the floor beside the bed, on her hands and knees. Her head popped up when the light flooded the room.
“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice rough from sleep, or rather the lack of it. The clock on the nightstand said 3:00 a.m. They’d only gone to sleep maybe a half hour ago. At least he had. Apparently Sydney hadn’t been asleep at all.
“I’m sorry I woke you.” She had one shoe in her hand and was looking for the other.
“I asked you what you were doing?” he repeated, irritated that she was dressed and crawling around on the floor when she should be in bed with him.
“Well, it’s so late and I didn’t want to assume that I, well, that I should…” Her voice trailed off as she stared at the shoe in her hand.
“Spend the night?” he finished for her.
She nodded, but still wouldn’t look at him.
She squeaked when he reached out unexpectedly and dragged her back into bed, then rolled her underneath him.
“Love ’em and leave ’em, huh?” He stared down at her, saw the tinge of pink on her cheeks. “Sydney Taylor, you are heartless.”
“I’m sorry.” Her thick lashes fluttered downward. “I just wasn’t sure…I didn’t know what I should do.”
“Sydney.” She looked so damn tempting, he thought. After making love with the woman half the night and only thirty minutes of sleep, all he had to do was look at her and he was hard again. “One of us has too many clothes on.”
“I suppose that would be me.” She smiled demurely.
“Looks like we have to start all over again from the beginning.” He began to unbutton her blouse, then slid the soft fabric open. “This might take a few hours.”
“Promise?” she asked, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down to her.
He smiled against her warm, willing lips. “Promise.”
Early morning light filtered in through the wooden blinds on Reese’s bedroom windows. Sydney listened to the quiet, the distant sound of birdsong, and the steady, secure beating of Reese’s heart.
She lay snuggled in the crook of his arm and watched him sleep. A dark shock of hair fell forward onto his forehead and she resisted the urge to slip her fingers through the errant strands and comb them back. Resisted the urge to press her cheek to his and feel the rough, short stubble of his morning beard against her smooth skin.
Resisted the urge to slide her hands over his broad, muscled chest and arms, his flat stomach and lean hips.
And more.
Smiling, she watched him instead. The slow rise and fall of his chest, the light flutter of his thick lashes, the occasional twitch of his strong jaw. He had the muscled, hard body of an athlete and though she’d experienced firsthand that strength last night, she’d also experienced his tenderness. He’d been a wonderful lover, forceful at times, yet gentle and thoughtful, too.
Lover. The word danced through her head, then rippled like warm waves over her skin. At twenty-six years old, Sydney Marie Taylor was no longer a virgin.
Her smile widened.
“When a woman smiles like that,” Reese said in a sleep-roughened voice, “she’s got something wicked on her mind.”
Startled, Sydney felt her cheeks warm. It surprised her that after last night she would feel any embarrassment at all with Reese, but she was glad to see she still had at least some sense of propriety left.
“Certainly not,” she said primly. “My thoughts are pure and chaste and—”
She gasped softly as he rolled her onto her back and covered her mouth with his. It wasn’t a gentle kiss, it was possessive and insistent. Her hands slid up the warm skin on his back. When he pulled his mouth away, she kept her eyes closed and continued, though more breathlessly this time “—benevolent. The epitome of goodness and piety—”
His mouth swooped down again and she wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him closer still. This time when he pulled away from her, his hands slid up her waist and cupped her breasts. She sucked in a breath. “Virtuous—” she arched upward when his mouth replaced his hands “—saint-like—” she heard him chuckle at that one, then pay careful attention to her hardened nipple with his tongue “—wholesome…”
Unable to think any pure thoughts with Reese’s hands and mouth doing such exquisite things to her, unable to think at all, she simply joined him.
Streaks of light from the swiftly rising sun warmed the rumpled sheets by the time they collapsed in each other’s arms, flushed with passion and breathing heavy.
He held her close, kissed her temple and cheek. “Who would have ever thought,” he said, his voice husky and rough, “that Sydney Taylor was such a wanton woman?”
“Don’t forget wicked,” she murmured against his neck. “And loose and—”
“Sydney…”
She heard the shift in his voice from playful to serious, felt her heart stop, praying he would at least wait until later,
or tomorrow, even, to tell her that last night had been a mistake.
“Tell me how a beautiful woman gets to the ripe old age of twenty-six without…well, why is it you never…that you were still…” He hesitated, obviously unsure how to phrase such a delicate question.
“A virgin?” she finished for him while relief poured through her that he hadn’t said what she’d been thinking, and at the same time wondering why she wasn’t mortified having this conversation with Reese. “Dating was never easy for me like it is for other women.” She skimmed a restless finger over his chest. “And the longer I waited for the right man, the more difficult it became.”
“You were engaged, Syd,” Reese said gently. “To Bobby, of all people.”
“I always thought that was why he asked me to marry him, because I wouldn’t jump into bed with him the way most women did. Well, and because my family had money, too. Then after he did ask me to marry him, I figured if I slept with him, he wouldn’t want me anymore, money or not. I wanted to believe that, maybe just a little, Bobby really did love me.”
Reese decided that if he ever saw Bobby again, he’d punch him in the nose. Just walk up and lay one on him, then walk away without so much as a second glance or thought. Thank God he hadn’t married Sydney. She deserved much better than that muscle-brained moron.
And thank God she hadn’t slept with the jerk, too. She definitely deserved better than Bobby in that department, as well. She deserved someone like…well, like himself, Reese thought. He cared about Sydney, respected and appreciated her. Which was more than Bobby had ever done.
And the fact that he’d been her first, Reese thought, made Sydney all the more special to him. Made him want to, well, beat his chest, as ridiculous as that sounded. She’d made him feel…virile. Powerful. Robust.
He had no idea how to tell her any of that, but suddenly he wanted to try. “Syd—”
She sat, pulled the sheet up to cover herself and shook her head. “Reese, the last thing in the world I want from you is pity. You don’t have to tell me how absurd it was to believe that Bobby really wanted to marry me, or that he loved me. I know perfectly well how pathetic I was.”
Reese's Wild Wager Page 10
