Samantha

by Andrea Kane

  How could she speak? The world was Rem's mouth, Rem's touch, Rem's words. Nothing mattered but the ecstasy he lavished on her senses, her soul. Answer him? Impossible.

  Rem's ravenous gaze bored through her, seeing the declaration she couldn't utter. Wordlessly, he lifted her legs higher over his shoulders, opening her totally to his possession, sinking his tongue deep inside her, only to withdraw and repeat the caress again and again.

  "Rem . . ." Sammy uttered his name on a shrill, heightened cry, everything inside her converging into a pinpoint of blinding sensation that intensified and grew, intensified and grew, until it splintered into a million blazing fragments, scattering her soul to the heavens, pouring her heart into Rem's. "Oh ... Rem . . ."

  Closing his eyes, Rem kissed Sammy's most intimate flesh, wringing another sobbing spasm out of her, sharing it, tasting it, unwilling to relinquish her even in the wake of her shattering release. He feathered his lips up the insides of her thighs and higher, knowing just where to stroke to prolong her wondrous sensations, where to linger to make it last. Even when she fell back, limp and exhausted against the pillows, he refused to stop, nuzzling her softly, pressing whisper-light caresses on her skin, gliding his fingers sensuously through the velvety wetness between her thighs. "So beautiful," he murmured. "So soft and warm and beautiful." He teased the opening of her body, entered her with his finger. "So excruciatingly tight." When she moaned his name, another current of sensation rippling from her body to his, his control splintered into nothingness.

  "Samantha ..." He shuddered heavily, sweat sheening his body. "I..."

  Inexperienced as she was, Sammy knew what to do.

  Guided by an age-old instinct, she came to her knees, her fingers finding the fastenings of his breeches and tugging at them. "Rem ... please."

  He wrenched off his shoes, kicking them aside and dragging down his breeches in one hard, violent motion.

  "How magnificent you are," Sammy breathed, her reverent gaze fixed on his engorged manhood. "Powerful and strong ... everywhere."

  Rem came down over her, wedging her thighs apart with his knee. "I can't wait."

  "And I don't want to." She smiled into his eyes, joyously opening herself to him. "I'm yours," she whispered, giving him the answer he'd sought moments ago. "I always will be." Her breath came faster as he settled himself in the cradle of her thighs, found the heated entrance to her body with his own. "Oh, Rem, I love you."

  The reverent declaration was as right as their joining, the natural expression of what she'd known from the start. Sammy watched the spasm of pleasure contort Rem's face, but whether it was caused by her admission or the feel of her body taking his, Sammy wasn't certain. All she knew was that she loved him, loved him desperately, and she wanted to give him more pleasure than any woman ever had.

  "Christ..." The word escaped Rem in a savage hiss, physical sensation such as he had never known gripping his loins as he pushed inexorably forward into her clinging resistance. Her internal muscles stretched gracefully to accept his intrusion, hugging him tightly, sending blinding surges of pleasure through his throbbing shaft. He fought the feeling, determined to stay sane long enough to breach her maidenhead as painlessly as possible. "Samantha ..." He reached the fragile barrier, braced himself on his elbows and looked down into her astonished face.

  "I never imagined it would be so beautiful," she breathed.

  Emotion clogged Rem's throat. "Neither did I." He guided Sammy's legs higher around his waist. "Samantha ... I've never wanted anything ... anyone ... more in my life than I want you now."

  "I know." She wrapped her arms around his back, feeling his love, wishing with all her heart he would say the words.

  Their gazes locked.

  "Yes," he breathed, covering her mouth with his. "God, yes."

  Sammy arched up as he pushed forward, and together they took her from girl to woman.

  A hoarse shout erupted from Rem's chest, and he pressed deep inside her until he could go no farther. "Are you ... all right?" he managed, feeling her body's shock as it struggled to accept him.

  She nodded against his shoulder, ignoring the shards of pain his entry had induced, thinking only of the pleasure of being one. "Rem?"

  "Yes, love." It took all his discipline not to move. His body was screaming its need to withdraw, then plunge into her, over and over, until his clawing passion was spent.

  "What happened to me before ..." She kissed his neck. "I want to feel it again ... only this time with you."

  Rem groaned, succumbing to the fire burning through his loins. He pulled out gradually, almost completely, then sank slowly forward, testing to see how raw she was, how much penetration she could take.

  He was rewarded with a melting sigh.

  "Is the pain gone?"

  In answer, Sammy rubbed her legs against his. "Don't hold back," she whispered. "I want to know everything."

  Aroused beyond bearing, Rem responded wildly, burying himself inside her, his hips beginning a rhythm instinctively meant to caress her every inner muscle, her every tingling nerve. Despite the savagery of his own need, Rem moved with erotic precision, calling on every iota of his expertise to bring Samantha the most dazzling sensations any woman could know.

  The frenzied spiraling began inside her again, coiling upward and inward, pulsing harder and harder with each thrust of Rem's powerful hips. Sammy dug her nails into his back, willing him to feel what was happening to her, and Rem crushed her closer still, dragging her up to meet each feverish thrust, impaling her on his fiery hardness.

  He could hold back no longer.

  When Samantha's hands found his buttocks, clutching him tightly, pulling him deeper into her sultry core, Rem lost the battle, succumbing to his scalding climax with a feral roar. He felt his seed explode from his body into hers, flooding her with his bottomless, unimaginable passion. "Come with me," he demanded, unwilling to touch heaven alone. "Now, love ... come with me."

  His plea, the frenzied motion of his hips, catapulted Sammy into her own mind-shattering release. She screamed this time, the pulsing surges of his climax intensifying her hard inner contractions beyond bearing. It seemed to go on forever, her body helplessly tossed on tides of sensation until at last she drifted, languorous and weak, back to earth.

  Neither of them moved, their harsh breathing the only sound in the silence of the room.

  Her eyes still closed, Sammy smiled, trailing her fingers along the hard plateaus of Rem's sweat-slick back.

  Rem stirred, rolling to one side, Samantha clasped tightly in his arms. "Incredible," he muttered, barely able to speak. "Absolutely incredible."

  Sammy kissed the hollow at the base of his throat. "More than that," she whispered.

  Drawing back only far enough to look down at her, Rem caressed her flushed cheek with his knuckles, "The pain ... is it better now?"

  "What pain?" Sammy turned her lips into his hand.

  "Ah ... Samantha." He wrapped her closer, nuzzling her hair.

  "Rem ... was I... did I... I mean you're so ..."

  His lips were warm against the shell of her ear. "I never made love before tonight."

  It was just what Sammy needed to hear, and too much for her to bear. Dizzy with joy, weak with fulfillment, she burst into tears, drenching Rem's shoulder, inhaling great gulps of air to calm her careening emotions.

  The tantalizing scent of wildflowers accosted her.

  Lifting her head in surprise, Sammy peered about for the first time since Rem had carried her to bed. And what she saw made the tears flow anew.

  Flowers lined every surface of the room, were scattered along each window ledge. Their scent, subtle but sweet, filled the air with an intoxicating aroma she hadn't noticed in the wildness of the past hour.

  Rising up on her elbow, Sammy encountered the rest of Rem's handiwork: a dozen glowing candles, their light as incandescent as that of the most radiant fire, a bottle of champagne, unopened and waiting on Rem's nightstand, and beside it,
two stemmed glasses and a tray of fresh fruit.

  "Oh, Rem . . ." There were no other words to say. This overpoweringly seductive man who'd had more women than she could count, to whom passion was a seasoned game played with casual ardor and cultivated finesse, this same man had just made love to her as if she were the only woman on earth, and was now offering her not only the miracle of her first time, but all the romantic wonder her heart could hold.

  Words were inadequate, tears interminable.

  "Don't cry, sweetheart," Rem murmured, smoothing his thumbs over the damp tracks on her cheeks.

  "It's all so beautiful."

  "Not nearly as beautiful as you." He framed her face between his palms. "Just tell me this .,. does it make you happy?"

  "I'll remember tonight for the rest of my life."

  Tenderness, more vast than passion, constricted Rem's chest. "As will I," he replied soberly. Shifting slightly, he reached for the champagne, "And, given that tonight is what memories are made of, let's not waste a single moment of it."

  Sammy stayed him with her hand, her eyes filled with heated promise. "No," she whispered. "Let's not."

  16

  "It's almost dawn, love." Gently, Rem stroked tangled strands of hair from Sammy's face.

  "Let's ignore it," she murmured, blissfully lying in his arms.

  He chuckled. "It would take very little convincing for me to do just that. However, I don't think Smithers would share my enthusiasm."

  "After an evening of parties, Smitty won't expect to see me until noon. I won't be missed." Sammy traced the corded muscles of Rein's abdomen, dreamily wondering how many times they'd made love ... how many more times lay ahead.

  ""You won't be missed; not even by Cynthia?"

  "Cynthia ... oh, Lord." Sammy's hand froze. "She'll have waited up for me. By now she's probably—"

  "Just retiring for the night," Rem finished. "And totally unaware of your absence. But even the memories of Boyd's late-night visit will not be powerful enough to distract her by the first light of day. So I don't think she should find you missing from your bed."

  That intrigued Sammy enough to stir. "Boyd called on Cynthia tonight?"

  "Urn-hum."

  "After midnight? And she agreed to see him?"

  "He's a tavern keeper, imp. His business doesn't shut down until then. Besides, his visit was a surprise."

  "I can imagine." Sammy chewed her lip dubiously. "Are you certain she didn't turn him away?"

  "Quite certain."

  "How do you know?"

  "Because if Boyd hadn't succeeded in diverting your diligent lady's maid, she would have paced the floors awaiting your arrival, and when you showed no signs of doing so, she would have long since broken down my door to find you."

  Sammy's eyes twinkled. "True. Rem, do you honestly believe Boyd can win her over?"

  "I do."

  "She's endured a great deal."

  "And, if I'm correct, Boyd intends to make sure she never again has to."

  "I hope you're right. They're both wonderful people. I'd like nothing better than to see them happy ... together."

  "I hope I'm right, too." Rem's dimple flashed. "Then perhaps Cynthia will relinquish her role as your protector and cease attempting to rescue you from my sinful hands."

  "They are sinful, my lord." Sammy smiled impishly, catching his fingers and smoothing them over the warm curve of her breast. "Sinful and wonderful."

  "You, my love, could tempt the stars down from the sky." Rem took her mouth under his, molding her breast to his palm. Absorbing her delicate shudder, he savored her softness, wishing he could hold the world, and the new day, at bay. "I have to get you home," he murmured, his hands, of their own volition, moving hungrily over her body in a sensual exploration that made desire pound through his loins like cannon fire.

  Sammy arched gracefully against him.

  "Damn." Rem's breath erupted in a harsh growl. "I can't get enough of you." He parted her thighs to find her heated entrance, to caress the dewy wetness he'd claimed tonight as his, only his.

  "Rem . . ." Sammy's response was immediate, absolute, her legs opening to offer him her soul.

  "Another hour . . ." Rem managed, entering her with his fingers. Submerged in her essence, he was lost yet again to Samantha's fervent, honest passion, her total relinquishing of self. He inhaled the scent of their lovemaking, stroked the delicate softness of her flesh, and, with an indistinguishable groan of primal male need, he buried himself inside her.

  "I'll have to dash up to my room." Sammy sighed, tucking the final pin in her hair and looking exasperatedly down at herself. "Because no matter how hard I try, I cannot smooth the wrinkles out of this gown."

  Rem knotted his cravat and smiled. "Sweetheart," he said tenderly, walking toward her, "it wouldn't matter if your gown were intact. The glow in your eyes, the flush on your cheeks . . ." He brushed his lips across hers. "You look like a woman who's been well-loved ... all night."

  "You look rather disheveled yourself, my lord," she teased, buttoning his waistcoat.

  Just outside, a songbird emitted its early morning melody.

  Glancing toward the window, Rem noted the pale slivers of sunlight beginning to show themselves, proclaiming the new day. He framed Sammy's face between his palms. "Let's get you home. Before your servants arise."

  Nodding, Sammy glanced back at the bed where she'd spent the past few incomparable hours. The pillows were rumpled, the bedcovers hopelessly tangled, and faint stains of her lost virginity streaked the stark whiteness of the sheets. How symbolic, she thought dreamily. The tangible transition from child to woman.

  Lost in wondrous thought, Sammy feathered her fingers across the bedpost. She was leaving this room a different person than when she came, whole in ways she'd never known she was empty.

  Yes, her innocence belonged to Rem now.

  But the memories were hers forever.

  "I'm ready," she said softly.

  Watching the play of emotions on Sammy's face, Rem felt his chest constrict. He reached for her, drew her to him, his own insides raw, exposed. How could he comfort her? What words could he utter to alleviate the disenchantment that lay ahead?

  He intended to offer her all he could, but his heart knew it wasn't enough—not for Samantha. Yet, hadn't he expected this? He, the experienced realist, had known from the start there would be an aftermath, a brittle shattering of Samantha's romantic bubble.

  It was too late to berate himself. He'd gone into this with his eyes wide open, equipped with a foresight Samantha was too starry-eyed and naive to possess. But his emotions had eclipsed his reason, and now all he could pray was that he'd be able to fill Samantha's life with enough joy so she wouldn't ache from the lack of that which he could never give.

  But one thing was a certainty. After tonight, Samantha Barrett was his.

  A pounding at the door interrupted the intensity of Rem's thoughts.

  Sammy started. "Rem? It's half after five in the morning... ."

  "It's probably Boyd," Rem soothed. "He expected me to deliver you home an hour ago."

  Taking Sammy's hand, Rem led her down the stairs and through the hallway. He scooped up her discarded wrap and put it about her shoulders, then eased her behind the door and out of view. "Who is it?"

  "Boyd."

  Rem relaxed, yanking open the front door.

  "Well! Good morning!" Boyd strode in as fresh and cheerful as if he'd had a full night's sleep. He saw Samantha and came to a screeching halt. "Oh . . ." Hot color suffused his face. "I'm sorry, I didn't think—"

  "It's all right, Boyd." It was Sammy who answered, walking toward him, hands extended. "I'm glad you're here. It gives me a chance to say thank you." Her eyes danced. "We didn't exactly have the opportunity to talk during our eventful carriage ride."

  "No. We didn't."

  To Boyd's amazement, Sammy bypassed his proffered hands, instead seizing his forearms and standing on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

&
nbsp; "Thank you," she whispered. "You helped make this the most wondrous night of my life." Undaunted by his embarrassment, Sammy added, "I hope your evening was fruitful, as well." She gazed up at him like a hopeful puppy.

  Boyd glanced at Rem, then back at Sammy.

  "You did visit Cynthia, did you not?" she persisted.

  One corner of Boyd's mouth lifted. "Yes, I did."

  "And, judging from your jubilant humor, I assume things went well. Cynthia likes you, you know. I can see it every time your name comes up. So don't be put off by her aloof manner. She's been badly hurt. Therefore, you must woo her slowly and gently ... but persistently. She needs a man who will not only care for her, but stand by her, regardless of how long it takes. A man like you. Once she believes—truly believes—that your feelings are genuine, unfaltering, she'll thaw. And I promise you, it will be worth it. Now," Sammy paused only to breathe, "tell me, were you really successful in keeping her from discovering my absence?"

  Boyd looked totally dazed. "What? Oh ... yes."

  "But our luck won't last indefinitely," Rem interjected. "Imp, we're leaving. Now. Neither dawn, nor your loving servants, will wait any longer."

  "Very well." Sammy gave Boyd a grateful smile. "Again, thank you."

  "It was my pleasure."

  "Stay here," Rem instructed Boyd. "I'll be back shortly." Then he steered Sammy out the door.

  The carriage ride was silent, fraught with emotional tension. "Boyd is a fine man," Sammy said at last. "You're lucky to have him as a friend."

  "Yes. I am."

  Sammy gazed candidly across at Rem, her heart in her eyes. "And you are even more wondrous a hero than I prayed you would be."

  A hard knot of reality formed in Rem's stomach. "I'm just a man, Samantha. Oftentimes not a very nice one. I am no hero."