by Alison Kelly
While his ravenous need for this woman was still inimitable, the discovery of a sweeter but equally rapacious hunger within Kirrily herself left him quaking. The sensations that stirred within him as her body sagged into his almost undid him.
‘Oh, Ryan…’ Her breathing was as ragged as his, her green eyes slumberous with desire. ‘I…I…’
As he smiled at her bemused expression, his hands skimmed her shoulders and the curve of her neck without any conscious directive from him.
‘You are so beautiful,’ he whispered. ‘So perfectly, perfectly beautiful and innocent.’
She raised an amused eyebrow. ‘Innocent? You’re obviously forgetting last night.’
‘I only wish I could.’
Neither his tone nor expression were light-hearted, and disappointment chilled Kirrily. ‘You regret last night?’ But even as she voiced the question she could see he did. Humiliated, she tried to pull away from him. The wall and his hold on her shoulders defeated her effort.
‘I don’t mean—’
‘Let me go!’ ‘Kirrily, I—’
She fought to distance herself from him, but Ryan’s superior strength triumphed and within seconds she was trapped against his chest, her arms secured against her sides.
‘Listen to me,’ he said. ‘What I regret about last night are the circumstances and the way I treated you.’
With his laboured sigh reverberating through her, Kirrily found herself almost afraid to anticipate his next words. The touch of his hand on her cheek was feathersoft as it crept to her jaw and exerted gentle pressure until she was looking into his eyes.
‘Last night I was on hormone overload and not tuned in to my emotions, much less yours. I hurt you, I—’
‘You didn’t I mean…well, I expected it to hurt a bit’
‘Oh, sweetheart, I don’t just mean the act itself, I mean my anger, my accusations…’ He shook his head in a gesture of ironic despair. ‘It was so much less than you deserved, honey, and there aren’t words to tell you how sorry I am for that’ He drew a languorous finger across her bottom lip. ‘But I swear I’ll make you forget it.’
Didn’t he realise his concern was misplaced? That even if she hadn’t felt as she did about him she’d remember every detail of what they’d shared? ‘Ryan, a woman’s first experience of lovemaking isn’t something that’s easily forgotten.’
‘Well, I’m making damn sure yours will never be,’ he returned, lowering his head, and he brushed his lips lightly across hers.
She wasn’t sure what caused her brain the most confusion—his kisses or his words. ‘But…but you just said you were going to make me forget it.’
‘Uh-uh,’ he muttered, showering her face with butterfly kisses. ‘I said I’d make you forget what happened last night.’
Hands on his chest, she levered herself out of reach of his teasing lips and frowned up at him. ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘And last night you made love to me for the first time.’
He shook his head, startling her even more by swinging her into his arms. ‘Uh-uh, honey. Last night we had sex—’
The sudden break in his voice drew her eyes back to his; the intensity in them scorched her soul.
‘Tonight I’ll make love to you,’ he said huskily. ‘And it’ll be the first time…for both of us.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
KIRRILY was so totally focused on the sensation of being in Ryan’s arms that her grip on him automatically tightened and she uttered a disappointed ‘oh’ as her legs were lowered and her feet connected with the earthy roughness of a hand-woven rug.
‘Two seconds, sweetheart, OK?’ he whispered.
‘OK,’ she agreed, disappointment vanishing with his light kiss and a smile full of sensual promises. Moments later the room’s dimness was overpowered as the light in the adjoining en suite bathroom was turned on.
Earlier today, when Ryan had taken her through the house, Kirrily had forced herself to view it dispassionately. Now, warmed by desire and need and on the threshold of making love to Ryan, she wanted to stamp every detail of it into her mind: the two sets of French windows through which the morning sun would awaken their love-drenched bodies, the large crafted mirror atop the oak tallboy, which even in the muted light reflected the excitement and passion of her eyes, the high-backed chair where the clothes Ryan had worn to dinner lay in disarray.
She smiled. Ryan was usually pedantically neat, and that he’d been too strung out over her to hang his clothes up after they’d returned from dinner appealed to her feminine pride. An even more feminine part of her sent her eyes in the direction of the king-size, four-poster carved oak bed. The duvet was on the floor, the top sheet twisted like rope and the top corner of the fitted sheet unhooked to display the mattress warranty. Its appearance was more post lovemaking than pre. Did helping your lover make his bed before you actually got to sleep in it come under the heading of foreplay? Chuckling softly, she began straightening it.
‘What’s so funny?’
She turned her head, intending to reply, but the action of Ryan flipping two condoms onto the bedside table temporarily froze her tongue. There was a possessive gleam in his eyes most feminists would have deplored, but to Kirrily’s astonishment it thrilled her all the way to her toes.
‘Your bed looks like the aftermath of an orgy,’ she said finally, hoping she appeared more at ease than she was. How come last night she’d been able to vamp it up and now she was as nervous as a virgin at a bikers’ convention? She turned back to the task of righting the bed, but her movements were clumsy as anticipation hummed through her, and the sheets were instantly forgotten when male arms entrapped her from behind and she was drawn back against Ryan’s solid male frame.
‘You don’t have any idea what the aftermath of an orgy looks like,’ he teased.
Her breath caught as his fingers began to uncinch the tie of her robe. ‘T-t-true,’ she managed. ‘But I’ve got a good imagination.’
‘Me too,’ Ryan muttered, his breath warm against the curve of her neck as he nuzzled the robe from her shoulders. ‘Which is why the bed’s a shambles.’
The feel of towelling slipping down her arms was so sensual that the material might easily have been the finest silk.
‘Lord, you’re beautiful! So damn beautiful…’
He kissed her shoulder with such soft reverence that Kirrily’s breath caught, but the touch of his hands at her hips, guiding her body from his so that the bulky garment could continue its drop to the floor, left her trembling. She sagged back against him, glorying in his guttural groan and the tightening of his arms across her abdomen. But she wanted to be closer. Needed to be closer. Much closer.
For too long Ryan had worn a ‘Look, Don’t Touch’ sign, now that it was gone she wanted to indulge her sense of touch to the point of overdose! What she craved was to wrap her arms around him, around his naked, muscled torso so they were skin to skin and the wiry coarseness of his chest hair was grating against her breasts; she wanted to walk her fingers over every millimetre of his smooth mahogany skin and watch his nipples grow as erect as hers. She wanted to run her tongue across his perfect white teeth until he bit it to stillness and she wanted to watch his face contort in pleasure as his body, heart and soul joined with hers.
Shivering with the potency of her own thoughts, she tried to turn, but her effort was thwarted by superior male strength.
‘Uh-uh,’ he said huskily. ‘Be still.’
‘Uh-uh?’ she echoed in disbelief, shivering as he buried his face in her hair at the nape of her neck.
‘I’m not letting you turn around.’
‘Ry…an.’
He chuckled at her obvious protest. ‘We’re taking this slow and easy; they’re the rules. I’m going to do this right even if it kills me.’
Ryan and his stupid rules! she thought, every nerveending in her body rioting as he scattered kisses over her shoulders. She was the one that this slow torture was going to kill! She was tempted to elbow him in the guts
and turn anyway, but suddenly the notion of actually stopping the sensual adoration of his mouth across her shoulders struck her as pure insanity!
‘Lean forward…’ he directed, murmuring his approval as her head lowered obediently and she pulled her hair out of the way.
His hot, busy mouth continued its seductive assault until Kirrily was convinced he wanted to melt her bones one by one. Certain she’d collapse at any moment, and seeking support, she reached back, grabbing his thighs, and encountered firm masculine legs encased in denim. Yet her groan wasn’t entirely based in disappointment as he moved and brushed his arousal across her bare buttocks.
‘Ry…an,’ she gasped as he unlocked one arm from around her to employ a hand to caress her side from thigh to armpit. ‘Sh-shouldn’t you at least…uh…?’
Words and thought evaporated as the wandering hand drifted over her abdomen, seemingly uncertain as to whether it would move up or down. Mentally she tried to will it in both directions at once as the demands of her throbbing breasts merged with the slick hunger between her thighs.
‘Shouldn’t I what?’ Ryan asked, marvelling that he could even form the question, much less get it out. Even doing nothing more than simply holding her and touching her in the most innocent of places he was burning up from the inside out!
‘Ah…shouldn’t you…take your jeans off?’
A moan of anguish burst from him when her question was accompanied by the wriggling of her small, firm butt against his groin. Determined to stay in control and halt the titillating action, Ryan instinctively repositioned his hands. It proved a poorly considered defence…
Kirrily bucked as his hands clamped flat against her body, his thumbs pressed low on her abdomen, his fingers immersed in the triangle thatch of hair at the apex of her thighs. She heard him suck in what she suspected was a steadying breath and envied him; she couldn’t even remember how to breathe. And as he continued to ply his magic the temperature of her body soared to the point where her blood must surely have been white-hot.
‘Please, Ryan…’ Her words were tinged with pathos and need.
‘Please…what?’ His voice was as strained and uneven as her own and she felt a shudder go through him, but her response was distracted by the movement of his hands on her stomach. Back and forward…Up and down…He continued with the sweet torment until Kirrily was certain a squadron of butterflies was rioting inside her. Back and forth…Up and down…
Down, dammit, down! her mind silently screeched, even as some region of her brain urged her to be patient, told her that bit by microscopic bit Ryan’s fingers were creeping closer to where she most wanted them. Yet her rapidly spiralling passion was all too eager to ignore patience and any other so-called virtues!
‘Touch me,’ she begged, knowing he felt the fluttery contractions he was creating within her belly. Her head flopped back against his shoulder and she lifted her eyes to his face. ‘Hold me. Oh, Ryan, please? Please, hol—’ The rest of her plea was captured by Ryan’s mouth.
Her lips had barely touched his before Ryan felt his heart unravel with the force and power of what he felt for this woman. Surpassing the mere physical and transcending the emotional, the emotion flowed within him as fiercely and strongly as his own blood. And, like his blood, it was heated by the ardent exploration Kirrily was making in his mouth. He’d long suspected that K.C. could fray the edges of his emotions and provoke him to passion, but the discovery that he had an identical effect on her still threw him.
For long, deliciously sweet moments his male ego was content to allow her the aggressive lead, to be seduced by her tongue and delighted by the frustrated sounds escaping from her as she writhed to find what she most sought. The more she gave, the more desperately aroused she became, and the more Ryan encouraged her. Then suddenly, in Ryan’s mind, the needle on his mental sensuality gauge, which was supposed to indicate who was in control, began spinning wildly in all directions!
Discovering he was trembling from head to foot, Ryan frantically shifted his weight to balance Kirrily more firmly against his left thigh. Then, praying his own body would withstand the pleasure he sought to give hers, he plunged his tongue into the sweet, moist cavern of her mouth at the same momentous instant that his fingers discovered an equally warm, moist part of her.
Kirrily was grateful for the strong male arm that stopped her from collapsing, but gratitude drowned in the waves of coloured heat radiating from the rhythm of Ryan’s hand, touching her as she’d willed it to do, warming her as only he could. Instinctively she tried to move closer to it, needing more of his touch, more of the magic of its rhythm.
Ah, the rhythm! The rhythm was everywhere—in her heart, in her body, and in the warm masculine chest that pillowed her thrashing head. A pagan, primal rhythm, which grew louder and louder until she was almost afraid it would deafen her. No, not deafen, devour her-consume her body entirely, leaving her limp and lifeless but blissfully fulfilled. Yes, fulfilment—that was what Ryan was offering her, what he was urging her to seek with his whispered words of, ‘Go with it, sweetheart…Let it happen…I want to feel you melt…’
Inspired by the husky encouragement and no longer able to deny herself the pleasure within her grasp, Kirrily shut herself down to everything but the rhythm…
The gasped cry of his name as her body quaked in climax threatened to push Ryan’s precariously balanced control over the edge. Gritting his teeth, he held her with one arm until her body ultimately stilled, while the other worked feverishly to unbutton his jeans. Though he’d initially cursed the fact he wasn’t wearing a zippered pair, the concentration the action required fortunately drew him at least a fraction further from what any man could only have described as a premature disaster. Bending slightly, he shoved them to his knees, using his feet to work them off the rest of the way.
Thank you.’
Her breathless words brought his head up; her angelic smile threatened to pull him back to the edge. Yet the need to taste her again had him pushing his luck and allowing her to turn in his arms.
‘My pleasure,’ he whispered against her mouth, ‘is your pleasure.’
If kisses were cars this one could have claimed zero to three hundred kilometres an hour in nothing flat! he decided as they tumbled as one onto the bed. Despite his intentions to keep things simmering sensually slowly for as long as possible, one touch of her tongue against his propelled the situation to erotic boiling point. Their mouths fused, their lungs surviving on only abrupt snatches of desire-laden air, they rolled first one way then the other, adding further to the bed’s state of disarray.
Having her nudity pressed top to toe against his own was like being wrapped in hot silk. Living, breathing silk, which fluttered beneath his fingers. She purred deep in her throat when his lips and tongue laved her neck. It was a magnificent neck; arched, it was the perfect foil to highlight her perfectly formed breasts with their succulent rosebud tips.
The tug of Ryan’s mouth against her breast jerked Kirrily’s body around as if he were a million volts of electricity; without any conscious command her legs pulled up until he stretched between the valley of her thighs, just as his face was pressed between the valley of her breasts. To her heart the warmth and weight of his body upon her was a gift from the gods, a treasure she’d been too afraid to search for in the past. Yet Ryan was intermingling his soul-destroying kisses with mutterings of praise that made her feel treasured.
She moaned as again his mouth worshipped her breasts while his hands skimmed her body with featherlight strokes that were as exciting as they were frustrating. He was being so gentle, too gentle, and she wanted to scream, not for release but at him! Yet in that very instant her feelings for this man were suddenly so strong, so clear that she wondered how she’d ever been able to conceal them. She loved him with every fibre of her being, with every atom of emotion she’d ever known, would ever know. Nothing would ever connect with her soul as Ryan did; what she felt for him was as infinite and intangible as time itsel
f.
‘Sweet, sweet Kirrily…’ he praised her, his mouth moving to her ribs. ‘Tell me what you want.’ He lifted his head, his face lined with the same urgency she’d heard in his voice. ‘I want to love you as you’ve never been loved before. I want this time to be special.’
Though she appreciated he was bound and determined to do whatever was physically necessary to make this time better than the first, he needed to understand that for her every time would be beyond compare. Smiling, she tugged at his hair, encouraging him into kissing range.
‘I just want you,’ she told him, her hands holding his face. ‘No holds barred.’ She kissed the confused frown marring his brow. ‘I’m not made of china, Ryan; I won’t break.’
She followed up her words with a kiss that couldn’t possibly be misunderstood and destroyed what little was left of Ryan’s mind and self-control. Never once lifting his lips from the soft, pliant ones of the woman whose hands were scalding his skin, he groped blindly about the top of the bedside table till his fingers encountered a square of cool foil. Only then did he lever himself upright.
‘Let me!’
The breathy command came at the same time as swift feminine fingers snatched the sealed condom from his own, trembling ones. He better than anyone knew that K.C. didn’t appreciate his taking it solely upon himself to protect her.
Rolling onto his side, he propped himself on one elbow and studied Kirrily’s unselfconscious nude perfection as she sat up. His idle hand began tracing a path along the inside of her thigh and she jerked in response.
‘Stop it!’ She frowned. ‘You’re distracting me.’
He shrugged. ‘Distractions are allowed; it’s “no holds barred”, remember? Just out of curiosity, do you know what you’re doing?’ he asked.
Flicking her hair over her shoulder, she gave him her best smirk. ‘Oh, yeah,’ she whispered. ‘I know exactly what I’m doing.’ Then with her gaze locked on his she seductively ran her tongue along the edge of the packet, then ripped it open with her teeth.
