Abruptly she said, “Is it always like this?”
He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “No.” His smile faded, to be replaced by a more intense look. He stared into her eyes and his hand stilled. “We’ve only made love once, and already I need to see you, be with you. It was like that before but not so concentrated.”
“What do we do?”
“I’d like to see where it leads.” He resumed his stroking. “I don’t want to pressure you. I don’t want to make you feel trapped. You don’t like that, do you?”
“No.” How did he know that? She had thought her disguise as Charlotte Lambert so good, yet he was able to tell a great deal about her. Did everyone see these things? She sincerely hoped not.
The smile returned. “Sufficient unto the day,” he quoted, and bent to kiss her.
All the warmth he had been slowly building inside her erupted and she sucked cold air through her nose. If his mouth hadn’t been covering hers she would have gasped. It felt as though everything surged up inside her, increasing her need, making all her senses focus on him. Only him.
He lifted his mouth to murmur, “Relax. Let me love you,” then he dropped small kisses on her nose, her cheeks, and trailed light caresses down to her throat. His hand continued its magic, and she felt him loosen another hook, and another. He lifted his head and leaned back on his elbow. They watched together as he opened each hook in a steady, relentless passage down to her lower calf, where the gown flowed free. He moved to straddle her body, her legs between his, and opened the robe.
She was laid open for his pleasure, and he took it. He gazed his fill until she flushed, her body suffused with the warmth she still felt inside. “You’re truly lovely. Soft, smooth, a joy.” He ran his hand down from her breasts to her hips.
Leaning back on his heels he divested himself of the light robe he wore over his shirt and breeches, letting it fall behind him, then his shirt, pulling it over his head. The ribbon came away and he shook his hair free, smiling at her in the intimate way she was coming to know well. She smiled back and curved her body first one way, then the other. His response was a low groan, and he came back over her again, taking her mouth, pushing his hands into her hair on either side of her head.
She wouldn’t let him go. Throwing her arms around him, gripping him tightly she returned his kiss, exploring him, feeling him meld her closer. Passion rose inside her to a deep longing. If he left now she would follow him until he gave her what she needed.
He wasn’t about to leave. His breeches hid nothing from her, nor did he want to hide, pushing his erection into her stomach in a motion as old as time. She gave him the response, arched her back to push.
He leaned back just long enough to tear the buttons undone at the waistband and kick the last garment down his legs. He came back down on top of her, pushing her legs open and settling between them. He lifted himself up and gasped. “You take me back to boyhood. I seem to have lost all the finesse I took such pains to learn.”
“It doesn’t matter. I want you. Please.”
“One condition.”
She couldn’t believe it. “Anything!”
“Call me by my name.”
Immediately, she cried out. “Orlando!”
Immediately, he responded. He touched her between her legs. “Oh God, Violetta!” He slid down and pushed between her legs, using one hand to guide himself to her. Then he looked up. Meeting her dazed stare with his burning gaze he thrust. They were one.
They cried out, breath meeting and mingling. She arched her back, pushing her shoulders into the mattress beneath her. He kept his thrusts steady, not increasing, building the warmth inside her until she cried out. “Please, please!”
“Please what?” His voice held a teasing note.
“I don’t know. I don’t know!” She arched her back, tilting her hips to take all of him, feel everything inside her. She felt him push his hand between them and down, and then he touched a place more exquisitely sensitive than she could ever remember it being before. Now she twisted to one side, sure she wouldn’t be able to take any more and the movement pushed his hand deeper, harder against her. “Oh, oh, oh!” was all she managed, and she felt him thrust so deeply he touched the centre of passion, something deep inside tore her apart.
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The Gypsy Legacy: Marquis Page 33
