“C’mere,” he murmured.
She moved forward, a hint of vulnerability passing over her features, and stopped an arm’s length away. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d changed your mind.”
Her head tilted. “I mean about a marriage of convenience.”
He laughed and slowly circled her. “I’m just a man, Megan. And like any man, I want my wife.”
Standing behind her, he cupped her smooth shoulders in his palms and turned her so she could see their reflections in the dresser mirror. He slid his hands down her arms and grasped her hips, tucking her bottom against the ridged length confined behind the zipper of his slacks. He heard her soft indrawn breath, and a smile tugged his lips.
“Nervous?” he asked, his mouth skimming her ear.
“A little.” She shivered and rested her head on his shoulder, her back arching when his palms moved over the silk covering her belly. His warm, searching hands stopped just beneath the slope of her breasts, his fingers spreading wide over her rib cage.
Her breathing deepened. “It’s been a long time.”
“Yeah, for me, too,” he admitted. Nuzzling her neck, he continued to explore the dips and curves of her body through silk, deliberately avoiding all the places he knew ached for his touch.
“I’m hardly a virgin,” she said breathlessly, her eyes wide and unfocused in the mirror. “But, well, it still feels like it’s my first time.”
“It is your first time,” he said, turning her to face him. “With me.”
“Yes.” Reaching for his hand, she pressed a damp kiss in the center, then leisurely dragged his palm down her throat. Her needy, unguarded gaze burned him to his soul. Brazenly, she pressed his hand to the full, taut swell of her breast.
His fingers flexed around the soft mound of flesh, and her nipple hardened. “I’m yours, Kane,” she whispered, candlelight and emotion softening her gaze. “Any time you want me.”
His heart gave a crazy little leap. “That’s quite an invitation.”
She stared deep into his eyes. “As your wife, I’ll do whatever I can to make you happy.”
Lifting his hand from her breast, he rubbed the coarse pad of his thumb across her bottom lip. “Anything?” The possibilities of such a generous overture aroused more than his interest.
An intoxicating combination of trust and desire welled within the bottomless depths of her eyes. “Yes.”
“Take the nightgown off for me. Slowly.”
The shock he’d been expecting never materialized. Instead, his wife surprised him with her sassy, very husky comeback. “I wore it for you.
He chuckled ruefully. Megan would never be one of those meek, docile wives who obeyed a husband’s orders. No, her candid, no-holds-barred attitude was the reason they were married-she was strong-spirited, determined and damned sexy while doing it. In some ways her straightforward approach scared the hell out of him. Now, alone in his bedroom, it excited him beyond his wildest dreams.
Wanting to beat her at her sensual game, he lifted her hands and placed them on his chest. Her touch singed him even through the cotton of his shirt, and his heart responded with a distinct thump beneath her palm. She looked at him, questioning eyes filled with heat and undisguised passion.
Knowing once he removed that flimsy gown he wouldn’t be able to maintain his control, he brought her fingers to the buttons on his shirt. “I’ll take your nightgown off after
Her mouth curled in a smile so full of seduction he knew he was in trouble no matter who undressed who first.
Yep, big mistake, he thought seconds later, after she’d pushed his shirt off his shoulders and her lips found that sensitive spot just below his ear. She worked his belt loose and lowered his zipper. Within seconds she’d swept off his clothes, her hands caressing every inch she exposed until he stood completely naked before his wife.
The spark of desire in her eyes nearly unraveled the last thin threads of his control. “Your turn to pay,” he murmured.
Smiling, she ran her hands over his chest and around his neck. “That’s what I was hoping for.”
Hoarse laughter escaped him. “You’re a nymph.”
Her eyes grew as dark as navy, the candlelight flickering off the uncertainty that suddenly appeared in the velvet depths. “Are you complaining?” Her question was half teasing, half serious.
He brushed the back of his fingers across her cheek. “I never did like silent, predictable lovemaking. You’re anything but predictable, sweetheart.”
Reaching for the hem of her nightie, he shimmied the silky material up her thighs, across her belly and over her head, tossing the gown aside. Lowering his mouth to hers in a long, lingering kiss, he maneuvered her to the bed and guided her onto the soft mattress. He followed her down and pinned her there, the weight of his body settling between her spread thighs. Meshing their fingers at the side of her head, he stared into her eyes, an incredible feeling of want and need enveloping him.
Megan was awash with feeling, a swirl of thrilling sensations that made her breathless, dizzy and melting inside. She wanted to run her hands down his back, urge him to complete that downward move that would end the torment, but his hands kept hers locked. She wanted, oh, God, she wanted… A whimper of frustration and need tangled in her throat.
His eyes glowed like hot emerald coals from the reflection of dying candlelight. “You’ll do anything for me?” he asked in a low, rough voice, reminding her of the promise she’d made to him earlier.
She’d give him her heart and soul, if only he’d ask. But that wasn’t what he was after. No, he wanted her total surrender. Through the passionate haze clouding her senses, she wondered how he intended to take it and experienced a shimmer of excitement that stripped all her inhibitions.
“Wrap your legs around me. Tight.”
She did, and came undone when he consummated their marriage in a ritual as old as time and as sacred as the vows that made them husband and wife. He took her with a fierce kind of tenderness that touched her heart and brought her more pleasure than she thought she was capable of experiencing. When the tempest ebbed he kissed her so sweetly she wanted to weep. Her big, ferocious warrior with all his wounds and scars was the gentlest, most giving man she’d ever known.
But he’d never believe it.
Gently turning her, he tucked her body against his and wrapped his arms around her. “I think, Mrs. Fielding,” he murmured sleepily into her ear, “that I could definitely get used to this.”
Megan woke alone, and although she wasn’t totally surprised by Kane’s absence, not waking with her new husband beside her still hurt. She’d hoped marriage would bring them closer, bridge some of the emotional distance that separated them. And for a few glorious hours last night she believed she’d reached past those barriers and touched a part of his soul.
Apparently, he was so used to withdrawing and shutting people out that he’d automatically done the same to her once the soft, warm glow of their lovemaking ebbed and cold reality intruded.
Sighing, she reached across the bed and placed her hand on his pillow. The gold band on her finger glinted, reminding her of the commitment she’d made to this man. She’d never taken her responsibilities lightly, and being Kane’s wife would be no exception. She was going to love him whether he liked it or not, and she hoped that love would be enough to heal old pain and memories.
Refusing to let Kane spend any of their short weekend honeymoon away from her or secluded in his workshop, she tossed off the covers and slid from the bed, intending to track her wayward husband. Passing the sexy nightie she’d worn the night before, she opted for comfort and grabbed one of his large shirts from the closet and slipped
