Red Roses Mean Love

But she'd never been a woman.

She looked into his beautiful eyes, so stormy with restrained passion, intense with a need she never dreamed she could inspire in a man. She could no more walk away from him, from the burning sensual promise emanating from his very skin, than she could pull the moon from the sky.

She wanted to experience that passion, and at no one else's hands but his.

Stephen studied her flushed face and nearly dropped to his knees by what he read in her eyes. That single look sealed her fate.

Raw sensation swept through him, and he consigned his conscience to the devil. He crushed her to him, his mouth plundering hers, his tongue demanding entrance to her warm mouth. He feared his intensity might frighten her, but she welcomed his kiss, twining her fingers through his hair, rising up on tiptoes to press herself against him. Every part of her fit him perfectly, all her peaks and valleys fitting against his as if the gods had fashioned them expressly for each other. His arms tightened around her, yet he could not seem to get her close enough. He wanted to simply absorb her into himself, into his very skin. Into his very soul.

His lips blazed a warm trail down her slim throat, his head filled with the intoxicating scent of roses and the sound of her throaty moans. He lifted his head when his lips reached the neckline of her nightgown.

Staring into her eyes, Stephen slowly unbuttoned the gown to her waist, his fingers trembling but never faltering. When he finished, he parted the material, sliding it over her shoulders and down her arms. He let go and the gown sank into a puddle around her ankles.

His gaze dropped and his breath caught in his throat. She was incredible. Absolutely perfect.

Her full breasts stood proud, their coral peaks hardening under his intense stare. Her small waist flared to round hips, tapering down to long, slender legs. The sight of the chestnut triangle of curls at the apex of her thighs threatened to obliterate whatever control he imagined he still possessed. Taking her hands, he twined their fingers together.

'You're beautiful, Hayley. So incredibly beautiful.'

His heart felt swollen. Exposed. Unfamiliar emotions bombarded him, plummeting from all sides. She stood before him, tall and proud, but her huge eyes and the rapid rise and fall of her chest betrayed her nervousness.

Disentangling their fingers, he ran his hands up her arms, over her shoulders and down her back. He lowered his head and kissed her, slowly, with lingering tenderness, coaxing her to relax. His tongue lightly traced her lips, savoring her, teasing her until she melted against him and wound her arms around his neck.

He seduced her slowly, with his mouth and hands, wanting to make this experience everything she wanted. Everything she deserved. Angels deserved heaven, and for this one precious night he was going to give it to her, or die trying.

Trailing his hands up and down her back, from her shoulders to her buttocks, his fingers caressed her soft skin. She squirmed against him, her breathing erratic, her breathy sighs the most erotic sounds he'd ever heard.

When his palms caressed the sides of her breasts, he reveled in her quick intake of breath. Leaning back enough to watch her, he feathered his thumbs lightly over her nipples. She rewarded him with a gasp of delight.

Filling his palms with her sensitive flesh, he teased her with his fingers, then lowered his head, flicking his tongue over her erect nipples. She exhaled a long, deep sigh, and tunneled her fingers through his hair, bringing his head into more intimate contact with her breasts.

Stephen laved her nipple, his tongue gently rubbing her, then drew the aching peak into his mouth and suckled. His lips moved back and forth, alternating breasts, until her moans commingled into one long, heartfelt murmur of pleasure.

He ran one hand down her body, his fingers entangling in the soft curls between her thighs. 'Spread your legs for me, Hayley.'

She obeyed and he caressed her wetness, separating the swollen folds of womanly flesh. Flesh no one but him had ever touched. Flesh that was already hot and wet. For him. A rush of possessiveness hit him like a brick to his head. This woman was his. Only his. He gently slipped a finger inside her, groaning when her velvety walls clutched him.

Her eyes slid shut and she clung to his shoulders. 'Stephen,' she whispered.

The sight of her flushed face, her lips moist and reddened from his kiss, the feel of her warmth surrounding his finger snapped his control. He wanted, needed, her hands on him. All over him. Wanted them skin to skin. Now. He quickly stripped off his clothes, then stood perfectly still before her, allowing her eyes to take in all of him, giving her time to look her fill. Her gaze drifted slowly up and down his body, and he gritted his teeth, aching for her touch but allowing her the time she needed … until he couldn't stand it for another second.

'Touch me, Hayley.'

Uncertainty flickered in her eyes. 'I don't know what to do.'

'Just … touch me. Feel how much I want you.' Reaching out, he guided her hands to his chest.

She splayed her fingers beneath his. 'Your heart is pounding,' she whispered. 'And your skin is so hot.'

He lowered his hands to his sides. 'Don't be afraid.'

She glided her palms across him, tentatively at first, then more boldly, running over his shoulders and back. His muscles bunched and contracted beneath her delicate, unpracticed touch, driving him mad. When her hands drifted lower, to brush across his abdomen, he couldn't hold back his groan.

Her hands stilled. 'Did I hurt you?'

You're bloody killing me. 'No, angel. Don't stop.'

Clearly emboldened by his response, she ran her hands over him again and again. Stephen endured the sweet torture, knowing that any agony he suffered was well worth the bloom and wonder of sensual discovery lighting her eyes. When she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his chest, he sucked in a sharp breath and clenched his hands into fists.

'Do you like that?'

'God. Yes.'

A feminine smile curved her lips. She kissed her way slowly across his chest, igniting his skin until it seemed an inferno burned inside him. When she flicked her tongue over his nipple, he couldn't stand the delicious torment any longer.

Scooping her up in his arms, he carried her to the bed and laid her gently on the counterpane. He was about to lie beside her when he stilled, transfixed by her expression. Sensual awareness, mixed with curiosity and newfound feminine power, all shimmered in her eyes. She rose to her knees, her gaze wandering slowly over him, head to foot, then riveting on his manhood.

On her knees, she moved to the edge of the bed, her eyes fastened on that part of him that was close to bursting with need.

Aroused beyond bearing by her ardent gaze, he took her hand and guided it to himself. 'Touch me, Hayley. Don't be afraid.'

Kneeling before him, hesitant and so beautiful he could barely stand it, she gently touched the tip of his arousal with her index finger. His moan echoed in the quiet room. Never in his life had he been reduced to such a state by a mere whisper of a touch. He would die if she continued. He would die if she stopped.

'Touch me again,' he commanded in a raw voice. 'Don't stop.'

She brushed her fingers over the length of him, and he gritted his teeth against the incredible sensation. When she wrapped her fingers around him and gently squeezed, his heart stalled. She rubbed her hand over him several more times, until he caught her wrist. If he didn't stop her, he stood in danger of spilling himself into her palm. And that was not what he wanted. It wasn't what either of them wanted. He couldn't wait much longer.

Pushing her gently back, he lay half over her, gazing down into her luminous eyes. 'This will probably hurt-'

'You could never hurt me, Stephen.' Leaning up, she kissed his mouth, and hot need replaced all thoughts of conversation. Settling himself between her thighs, he entered her gently, a bit at a time, until he reached the barrier. He tried to gently probe past it, but that proved futile. His only two choices were to retreat or press on.

Retreating was not an option.

He grabbed her by the hips. 'I don't want to hurt you,' he gritted out.