Thrilling to his impressions of her, Hannah mutely watched the play of emotions over his face as he told her more about herself. But even more about himself … if he only knew it.
“You’re so elegant, Hannah. Your face, the way you walk, the way you sit. Even your smile. You’re like that harp over there, all slender lines and graceful form. A pleasure simply to stand back and behold. And yet”—his expression changed to quizzical—“you draw me to you. How do you do that?”
“I don’t.…” The words dried up as she shook her head and kept her eyes on his mouth.
A soft chuckle greeted her befuddlement. “It doesn’t matter. But looking at you will never be enough for me. I have to touch you. Like playing that harp, I want my body wrapped around yours, I want you to be one with me. I want to coax from you a harmony that only you and I in all the world can create.”
Breathing shallowly now, Hannah knew she was undone. Her hair, her blouse, her desire. With a seeming will of their own, her eyes closed and her mouth opened slightly. His feather-soft touch, so unexpected, on her arms, her face, her neck, nearly sent Hannah to the floor. He continued to caress her with his whispers of her beauty and to remove her clothing, even helping her out of her thin slippers.
Not once, not until the only thing covering her nakedness was her chemise, did he touch her with anything but his trailing fingers. Until finally, through the thin fabric, she felt a hot moistness close over her nipple. A jolt of needle-sharp desire jerked her body. She opened her eyes to see Slade down on one knee in front of her. He released her nipple to lay his head between her breasts and to wrap his arms around her hips. “You are exquisite, my love.”
Hannah’s knees crumpled. Slade shifted his weight, drawing her down to him, down amongst the ivory sheets of scattered music. He brushed some away, but a few sheets remained, like petals from a huge flower. Hannah watched Slade drink his fill of her as he tugged his shirttail out of his pants. She pulled herself up on an elbow and reached out a hand, stopping his movements. “Let me. You said we’d undress each other.”
Slade smiled down at her and let go of his shirt. “You’re right. But hurry.”
Frowning, cutting her gaze to the closed panel doors, Hannah quickly sat up and began trying to wrench his shirt over his head.
Slade laughed and stopped her hands. “No one will come in. I just meant you—” The first look of uncertainty she’d ever seen on his face clouded across his brow and at the edges of his mouth. “Well, here—to put a fine point on it—I’ll show you.” With no further ado, he took her hand and placed it against the hard length encased in his breeches.
In a blazing agony of maidenly embarrassment, Hannah froze, her eyes widening. She stared at his hand holding her hand over … him. Wetting her lips with the tip of her tongue, she looked up to his face. Slade smiled and slowly raised her hand to his mouth. He kissed her fingers, her palm, the inside of her wrist. Delicate little tendrils of desire danced up her arm. “I’ll hurry,” she breathed.
Slade raised his head, letting her tug her hand out of his. “Good.”
Hannah hurried. Slade helped her. In a flash, his white ruffle-fronted shirt was unlaced halfway down his chest. Hannah caught her breath when he crossed his arms at his waist and drew the shirt over his head. The finely toned, powerful muscles rippling over his large-boned frame, the crisp black hair on his chest, his tautly stretched skin, his dark brown, flat nipples. She was right—he was beautiful, only she hadn’t known until now just how beautiful.
When he threw the shirt aside and sat on the carpet to tug his boots off, Hannah grabbed for the toe and heel and pulled with all her might. The boot came off more readily than she expected, setting her hard on her bottom and promptly onto her back. Lying there, clutching Slade’s boot to her chest, she laughed with him when he crawled up to her and drew her to a sitting position.
“I appreciate your enthusiasm, but I’ll get the other one.” And he did. With blinding speed. So, bootless, sockless, and shirtless now, he stood. Staring down at Hannah, holding her gaze, he began unfastening his pants.
Hannah dropped her gaze from his smoldering black eyes to his busy hands and … hard length. Wonder filled her that she could produce this … grand effect on him. Slade’s hands stilled at the last button. Hannah snapped her gaze up at his face. He smiled, kept his pants on, and lowered himself to sit facing her, his legs stretched out alongside her. “Sweet Hannah.”
He reached out to cup her nape in his hand and draw her to him for a kiss. With practiced motions and soft caresses, Slade inflamed her desire again. Hannah heard soft moans, knew they were hers, suddenly realized she was lying full-out on the carpet, and Slade’s muscled warmness was beside her and yet hovering over her. He put an arm under her head, cascading her hair over it and the carpet, and then cradled her to him.
Leaning into her, covering her legs with his muscled thigh, he edged her even nearer with his calf and foot. His other hand found her breast, cupped it, swirled the tender nipple, and then went exploring down her quivering belly. With each new sensation, Hannah gasped, making low guttural sounds she’d never made before. Slade moved his leg off her so he could trail his hand down her thigh to gather up her chemise’s hem and draw it up, up ahead of his smoothing hand, over her thighs and belly. Only there did he stop.
At the same time he claimed her mouth, his hand urged her thighs apart and then claimed her womanhood. Hannah jerked, breathing in equal doses of shock and shooting stars when his fingers found her bud and stroked it softly. The heel of his hand gently kneaded her woman’s mound, until a moment later when his fingers splayed the folds of her innermost self. Hannah stiffened, dragged her mouth from his, turned her head. “No. I can’t.”
Slade kissed her jaw, nipped at her earlobe, moved his hand up onto her belly. “You’re just scared. I won’t do anything until you tell me to. But don’t tell me with words. Tell me with your body.”
Hannah opened her eyes, blinked, looked up at him. Saw his gentle smile. And saw the desire-inflamed edge to that smile. She wanted him so desperately. “But how will I know?”
His wide, white grin turned into a chuckle as he tilted his head back and shook it. “Ahh, virgins.” With a lock of black hair falling across his forehead, he looked back down at her. “You’ll know by touching me.”
Hannah narrowed her eyes and looked askance at him.
Slade laughed again. “You believe nothing I tell you, do you? Here, give me your hand. No, not there again—I promise. See? Now, with your hand on my heart, I swear to you that you will know … by touching me.” He then pressed her palm to his heart and held it there.
Smitten now with the warm, hard-yet-yielding feel of him, Hannah raised her wondering eyes to his face. “I can feel your heart beating.” Impulsively she laid her ear to his chest and listened. As she did, its pace quickened. She pulled back and looked into his eyes.
The devil grinned like one. “I told you so.” Then with maudlin emotion, he clutched at her hand, gushing, “My heart beats for you, Hannah. Only you. For all of eternity.”
Giggling, Hannah wrenched her hand out from under his and smacked at his powerful chest. “Now, you’re making fun of me.”
“I’m mortally wounded.” He pantomimed being shot in the heart and fell over backward, lying still, eyes closed, head lolling, arms and legs flung out.
Screeching in humor, Hannah scrambled up and flopped on top of him, whooshing more than a little air out of him. He jerked his head and knees up reflexively, catching Hannah in the middle of him. With one deft roll, he was again lying on top of her, supported by his elbows, and grinning down at her. “That backfired, didn’t it, miss?”
Still playing, Hannah bucked her hips against his. And knew instantly the teasing game was over. She sobered right along with him and felt her expression changing, warming … right along with his. With tentative motions, knowing he watched her, she reached up, smoothing her hands over his powerful arms, up across his shoulder
s, down around his chest, and then under and around to his back. Her fingers curled into loving claws and scratched lightly over his skin.
Slade’s muscles quivered under her touch. And no small degree of holding back. Hannah knew that. Even in her inexperience, she knew that. When he lowered his head, resting his forehead against her shoulder, Hannah lifted her hips again, grinding them in a slow circle. Slade raised his head, breathing shallowly, raggedly. He sucked in a breath through his flared nostrils and stared down at her, a question in his passion-glittered eyes.
Suddenly, Hannah knew the terrible responsibility of being a woman. She’d brought this powerful and feared man, this handsome and virile male to the brink. And she’d done it with no more than a look, a touch, a kiss. She held his heart, everything he was or ever could be, in her hands. She could uplift him. Or she could destroy him. And by marrying her, he’d given her that power. Only her. In all the world.
Blinking back sudden tears, her chin trembling for all that she felt, for all that she now owned, Hannah moved her hand from his back and slipped it around to cup his cheek. Her voice no more than a whisper, she confessed, “I love you, Slade. I give myself to you.”
Slade stared at her for an eternal second and then, as if he’d lost control, grabbed her to him and held her so tightly she feared she’d break. No longer so carefully tender, his hands moved over her in a fevered state of smoothing and kneading. He left no inch of her untouched. Hannah’s heart beat faster, passion intermingling with a little fear. What had she unleashed? But it was a fleeting thought as Slade swept her along on their time-hazed, sensual journey.
Hannah slowly became aware that she was out of her chemise and that her bare skin was touching Slade’s bare skin. All of it. When—? She hadn’t felt or … seen a thing. But it didn’t matter. Because Slade was now ensconced in the saddle of her hips and pushing gently against her maidenhead while he stoked her passion with kiss after kiss. He reared back enough to rake his hand down her belly and stroke her bud to the point of madness.
Hannah tossed her head from side to side, overcome, breached, wanting … something. She couldn’t name it, couldn’t convey it. She pulled passionately, impatiently at his shoulders, wanting him to … do something.
And Slade did. He slipped down her length until he could capture her nipple. Hannah cried out, arching her back. Thus encouraged, Slade gripped her about her waist and suckled the bud to an aroused peak. Grimacing, gasping, Hannah clutched handfuls of his hair and called out his name.
Slade answered her in gruff syllables, speaking in a loving language of rough words. He kissed and mouthed his way over to her other breast, giving it the same attention. Hannah’s legs jerked in response. She could barely stand the swirling, rippling spasms in her womb. She wanted them to stop. And to go on forever. “Slade, please!”
The cry rang out in the room’s silence. Slade immediately pulled himself up and over her again, holding his weight off her with his elbows. Capturing her tossing head in his hands, he forced her to look at him. “This will hurt, Hannah. Not because I want it to, but because it’s your first time. It will only hurt a moment. And then it will never hurt again.”
Why was the man talking? She didn’t want words. She wanted him. Then, suddenly she knew—she wanted him inside her. “Please,” she begged again, completely worn out with desire.
Slade kissed her gently, briefly. “All right, my love.” And then lowered himself onto her. He helped her get her legs positioned right, wrapping them around his hips. He then began edging into her. Hannah stilled for a moment, staring wide-eyed at Slade. He kissed the tip of her nose and pushed in a little farther. Hannah instinctively thrust into his push, surprised at the wonderful feel of him slipping smoothly along her slickness.
“Easy. Let me this time, okay?”
Hannah nodded, feeling his muscles tense and gather, readying. Slade claimed her mouth in a dizzying kiss. Hannah forgot about what was going on at her hips … until Slade thrust fully into her. A searing tear stilled her, stopped her breathing. Slade stilled, too, whispering into her ear, “I’ll wait for you, Hannah. Tell me when you’re ready. Tell me with your body.”
Gooseflesh raced over her naked skin. His voice was the most sensual thing about him. He lay ensheathed, arching over her, kissing her cheek, her jaw, her forehead. He smoothed her hair out of her face. And waited. Hannah loved him all the more for his care of her. She concentrated on the pulsing hardness inside her and shifted the slightest bit under him. Slade’s breath caught, exhaled on a ragged cry. Hannah frowned in curiosity … and did it again.
Slade jerked, clutching at her. “You’re killing me, Hannah.”
Hannah grinned. This … loving between them was what she wanted. All along, this was what she wanted. Happy tears welled and then spilled down her face. She grabbed Slade around his muscled neck and locked her ankles around his hips. And thrust her hips up and into him. It didn’t hurt. It didn’t hurt at all.
And that was all the notice Slade needed. He gently rocked her with him until they found their pace, until they put their own rhythm to their sensual dance.
If Hannah thought this act would relieve the coiled tension in her belly that his lips and hands had wrought, then she now knew she was mistaken. His thrusting into her only wound the band tighter, only rubbed her bud to an agonizingly tender, stingingly hot pitch.
The harder Slade drove into her, the harder she wanted him to. The more fevered his thrusts, the more she scratched at his back, clutched at his shoulders and arms and called out his name. Suddenly, she could take no more. She’d beg him to quit—
The dam exploded. The pent-up, sizzling heat rushed in rippling waves out from her core to freeze her in place, to lock her muscles as she desperately held on to him. Her toes curled, the back of her mouth felt dry, her head and back arched up off the carpet, and she breathed in gasping cries.
When she feared she would faint from the pleasure, Slade tensed over her, held himself rigid as he thrust to the hilt into her. The muscles in his neck corded. His eyelids fluttered as he grimaced and then cried out. Her name. He cried out her name. And remained poised over her. Then, he collapsed on top of her.
Slick with loving sweat, breathing in gasps, weak of limb, Hannah lay spread-eagled under him, completely satiated. She stared up at the vaulted ceiling, blinked, focused … and frowned. She hadn’t noticed before now that there was a fresco of heavenly cherubs up there. Well, neither had she lain on her back in this room before.
Slade brought her attention back to the floor when he lifted himself and rolled off her. With the rush of cool air over her nakedness came the awkwardness. What did she do now? Dress? Lie there like a hussy?
Slade answered her by pulling her to him. He lay on his side, raised up on his elbow. She lay next to him on her back, her knees bent. He then surprised her by reaching around him to produce his shirt and hand it to her. “Here. You’ll need to clean yourself up.”
Hannah took the shirt, looking in confusion at him.
“There’s blood the first time, Hannah. There’s some on the carpet there, too. We’ll have to get that up next.”
Hannah jerked on her side, putting her back to him. There, on the ivory-colored fibers, was a bloodstain. Why couldn’t it have been on one of the rose petals in the pattern? Mortified, she bit at her lip and tugged his shirt down between her legs and wiped away more evidence. It was awful being a woman.
Slade moved behind her, kissing her arm and pulling her over on her back. He caressed her belly, and then very casually took his shirt from her and tossed it away from them. He smiled tenderly down at her. “Are you all right?”
Belatedly self-conscious, Hannah covered her breasts with her hands, crossed her legs, and focused on her dangling foot. “I was until you asked me that.” Then, wagging her chin up a notch, she looked up at him. “Are you?”
Slade gawked wide-eyed at her and then flipped over on his back, laughing heartily, lying nakedly glorious and s
pread-eagled, half under the piano. “Hell, I’ve never been better. But then, I’m not the one who just lost my virginity.”
Hannah, still on her back, uncrossed her legs so she could kick at his leg with her bare toes. “You’re a smug devil now, aren’t you?”
Slade rolled back to her and playfully smacked her thigh. “Come on. We need to get dressed. Isabel and the rest will be frozen to death out in the cabin by now.” He gripped the piano’s edge and pulled himself up, already looking around him for his clothes.
But Hannah lay there, stunned, her mouth open. She grabbed at his ankle, capturing his attention. He raised his eyebrows in question. Hannah blinked two or three times, having now her first bald view, and a snail’s-eye view it was, of his … maleness. Forcing her attention back to his now clearly amused expression, she ignored the suffusing heat on her cheeks and used her embarrassment to fuel her disbelief. “The cabin, Slade? The cabin? That little one out back? You mean to tell me that Isabel and Pemberton and Sera—”
He cut her off. “Serafina and Rowena and all the other chambermaids and Mrs. Edgars and her kitchen help are out in the cabin. I told you, you scared them. They fled the house, refusing to come back inside until I calmed you down.”
Hannah jerked to a sitting position, bracing her hands behind her on the carpet. “But I thought you were just … just exaggerating! Oh, the poor dears! They’ll catch their deaths.” She rounded on Slade, smacking his calf—hard. “How could you?”
“How could I? I’m not the one who—”
“Don’t say it! And help me up.” Hannah raised her hand to him. The diamond flashed in the late afternoon light.
They both stared at it for a moment, as if the reality and the finality of their act was just then coming home to roost. Hannah’s gaze met Slade’s at the exact moment he looked at her. An unspoken truth passed between them—what was done, was done. Their lives were now inextricably entwined. From here on out, they’d have to find their way together.
Hannah's Promise Page 19
