“Rand?” He looked like he was concentrating very hard, his gray gaze intent on what he was doing, his fingers tracing featherlight patterns on her skin. She quivered. “Do you think you could go a little faster?”
“We did fast yesterday. I told you, I intend to go slow.”
“But why?” He was driving her mad. “If we go fast,” she argued, “maybe we’ll have time to do it twice.”
His hands fell away from her as he burst out laughing. She crossed her arms, indignant, wondering which upset her more: him laughing at her expense, or the fact that he’d ceased touching her.
Then he smilingly shook his head and said, “Good heavens, I love you.” And she wasn’t upset at all.
The laughter lingered in his eyes. “My sweet Lily. You seduced me in the summerhouse, but it’s my turn tonight. And if you’re good, we’ll do it twice.”
“If I’m good?”
“If you let me do it my way.”
His way was exquisite torture. It took him ages just to remove her clothing, and he managed to graze every bit of her skin along the way. By the time he finished, there wasn’t an inch of her that wasn’t tingling with anticipation.
At last he stood beside the bed and shrugged out of his dressing gown, his body gilded by the dim light of the single candle. He had a runner’s long sculpted muscles, all shadowed in stark relief.
She could see he was ready to take her, and she was more than ready to be taken. She licked her lips and raised her arms to him, holding her breath when he eased her onto her back and moved over her.
“Lily.” He felt so warm, his weight supported on his elbows, his fingertips dancing on her face. Barely touching, just enough to make her skin tremble in response. “Lily, you make me burn.”
“Rand—”
“Hush.” His lips grazed her ear, lightly, lightly. Pleasure rippled through her, and heat pooled in her middle. He took an earlobe into his mouth, sucking softly, and the room seemed to spin, rattling her senses.
“Rand—”
“Hush. Be good.” His lips trailed down her neck, a warm swath of sensation. He rolled off her to lie next to her, tracing her waist with teasing fingertips while he bent his head to taste her breasts. It was too much at once, especially when he swirled his tongue around one rosy peak and then bit it gently.
She gasped, feeling it harden in response. Feeling him harden against her thigh. She reached down and wrapped her hand around him, eager to find what he felt like…warm velvet over steel. Her heart racing, she moved her fingers experimentally, and his moan made her blood race even faster.
When a scratching came at the door, his moan turned into a groan.
“It’s only Beatrix,” she whispered. “Ignore her.”
He did. His talented mouth on her breasts roused a melting sweetness within her. He nibbled her neck while his hand moved to tease her legs, up and down their length, coaxing them apart, trailing between. His fingertips skimmed her thighs, and currents of desire rippled through her.
Then he kissed her until she was breathless, until she was senseless, until her entire world was consumed with the taste and touch of him. And all that long time his fingers worked closer to where she ached, until they were almost there.
Almost.
Lily touched him everywhere she could reach. He was so very male, his body gloriously hard compared to her softness. Her breathing quickened when his did; her heart pumped faster when she felt his pulse respond to her touch. But his hands and mouth on her remained slow and steady.
A sound of surprise escaped her lips when he rolled her onto her stomach. “Hush, Lily,” he said. “Be good.”
It was frustrating, because she couldn’t touch him now, not really, not the way she wanted to. Her hands fisted at her sides. She felt his lips on the soles of her feet, warm and damp and ticklish, and was astonished to find her whole body was so sensitive. He nipped along her calves, paid homage to the backs of her knees, and nibbled the insides of her thighs, pausing in his upward journey to rain kisses across her bottom.
The ache was becoming unbearable. She squirmed and heard a low chuckle in response, his lips on her skin making the sound vibrate right through her.
Tiny pecking sounds came through the door.
Rand froze. “Lady?”
“Mmm-hmm.” Lily came up on her elbows. “Ignore her.”
Beatrix’s scratching joined the pecking as Rand eased her back down to the sheets. “They seem unhappy. Maybe we should let them in.”
“They’re fine.” She turned over and cupped one of his cheeks with a hand, loving the masculine roughness. “Ignore them. Please.”
He smiled, a smile so darkly sensuous it made her breath catch in her throat. He turned his head and kissed her palm, a warm press of his lips as he held her gaze with his. “Be good, now,” he said, rolling her back onto her stomach. He climbed over her and straddled her thighs. “I’m not finished.”
She sucked in a breath. He was there, hard between her legs, nearly where she wanted him. His fingers danced over her back, massaging, tantalizing, teasing. She quivered beneath him, dying to have him inside her, feeling him there so close.
For a moment—a moment that felt like forever—he raised his hands. Lily waited, waited, her heart beating so hard she was sure he could hear it. Then she felt the sliding tickle of her hair as he swept it to one side, felt him lean forward and place a shivery, soft kiss to her nape. Felt his chest hard and warm against her back, felt his breath wafting over her.
Felt the cool air as he drew away…
…felt his tongue on the base of her spine, a long, hot
