long day ahead of us.”
She considered the command for all of a minute, considered the subtle tension infusing his every muscle, a tension that had been there since she’d walked into the room, then shifted her head and through the moon-etched dimness looked into his face. “I’m not that sleepy. I’d rather explore more.”
She remained distantly amazed that she found it so easy to make such immodest demands, yet with him she felt assured, confident in a connection that made such directness acceptable, that made the usual veiled references to passion irrelevant, if not absurd.
Studying his shadowed eyes, she didn’t doubt that he would be happy to oblige.
The faint moonlight lit her face. Breckenridge read her expectation in her eyes, the queenly assumption that he would fall in with her suggestion — followed by the shift of her attention inward as she formulated what she would ask him for this time—
Raising one hand, cupping her head, he raised his and kissed her.
His turn, this time, but he was wise enough not to give her any chance to debate the point.
He kissed her deeply, slowly reclaiming the slick sweetness of her mouth, heavily stroking her tongue with his, luring her deeper into an exchange that progressed to the rhythm of their heartbeats.
Steady.
Sure.
An exchange that escalated slowly, keeping time with that elemental beat that built on the rising tide of desire. He fought to hold back the sharp edge of need, of greedy hunger, and give her pleasure undiluted, uninhibited, unrestricted, unrestrained.
She wanted to know, so he showed her.
He led her into a landscape of sensual lushness created by touch, by tactile sensation, by long-drawn intimate exploration capped by sexual revelation. He guided her on through valleys of pleasure colored by rainbows of glitteringly sharp delight, onto plateaus where untempered passion ran so luxuriously and deliciously deep that it swamped their senses and left hers reeling.
His senses were too well drilled to reel, yet even he found his breath catching, found himself momentarily caught in the wonder. By the wonder.
A glorious, shimmering, glimmering wonder heightened by every erotic caress, every illicit, longed-for, yearned-for touch.
When he rolled and rose, tipping her beneath him, cradling her bottom and settling her under him, her thighs pressed wide by his, it was all he could do to deny the impulse to let his reins fall and simply gorge. . but he had his plans, his own agenda, and even as he clung to both and, looming over her, his head bowed as he continued to fill her mouth, kept the tempo rigidly reined, he knew to his soul that this was the way.
That new entity within him that she called forth glowed like a beacon, a guiding light that led him, that invested every sweep of his hands, every possessive touch, with emotional meaning.
An emotional element he’d never before played with, worked with, bent to his will. It seemed to flow through him, coloring and heightening, lacing the tantalizing with the riveting to call forth and hold her fascination. To hold her.
They were both learning tonight. He as well as she.
The long-experienced lover that was so much a part of him, a cynical, world-weary part, saw and acknowledged that novel element, regarded it with unalloyed suspicion, but the rest of him didn’t care. The rest of him, the better part of him, the part of him that was the man behind the reputation, was too immersed in savoring the sharper delight, the heightened pleasure, the brighter, scintillating glory of their passion.
His mouth locked with hers, he flexed his spine and entered her, long, slow, and easy.
She closed around him, scalding and slick, taking him in, hips tipping in wordless entreaty, accepting and ready, wanting and needing.
Giving, surrendering.
Claiming.
What followed was nirvana, pleasure beyond pleasure.
Heather followed blindly where he led. She was no longer herself but a creature of passion, infused with it, awash with it, buoyed by it as she rose to his call and embraced him, took him in and rode with him, clung and shared the indescribable delight. . with him.
They moved together, joined in passion, wrapped in heated desire, linked by a seductive ribbon of emotion stronger than forged steel.
If she’d been able she would have examined that binding, that elemental linkage, more closely, but her senses weren’t hers and her mind was suborned by the cataclysmic pleasure of his loving.
His mouth remained locked on hers, drinking in her inarticulate moans. He’d taken his weight on his elbows, his shoulders and heavily muscled upper arms caging her beneath him. His chest, the raspy hairs that adorned it, abraded her tightly furled nipples with every powerful, surging thrust. His hips were wedged between hers, pinning her to the bed, her body surrendered, his to fill, his erection, heavy, rigid, hot silk over steel, buried deep inside her; with every repetitive, rhythmic motion, he withdrew only so far, then pushed solidly, forcefully, powerfully back, filling her more deeply, and ever more deeply.
Relentlessly rocking her to ecstasy.
Breathing was beyond her. Nothing mattered but the sensual communion. The meeting of the physical and the sensual in which she and he were so deeply engrossed.
Never had Breckenridge experienced such absorption, such depth of sensual abandon. Normally he always had a part of his awareness monitoring his surroundings, on watch, keeping guard. . not tonight.
Not with her.
He was as ensnared as he knew her to be.
They moved together in an intimate harmony he’d never before known, never before experienced, never dreamed could be.
Beneath the covers, they danced in the darkness, bodies joined in hot, slick, breathless desperation as passion escalated in a rising crescendo.
Long, voracious, rapacious kisses built their hunger until it was raging.
Explicit caresses, intimate and uninhibited, drove desire higher still, until passion became a whip.
Until possession reared and seized. Gripped and held.
And hurled them to the peak.
Desperate and yearning, striving and wanting, they shuddered and clung, his body plunging one last time into hers.
Glory erupted. Scintillating and brilliant, it flashed down every nerve. Pleasure indescribable surged through every vein.
And they shattered.
Fractured.
Lost touch with the physical plane.
Lost themselves in the void. . then ecstasy swept in and claimed them.
Renewed and remade them.
Leaving them floating, slowly sinking back to earth, to a reality that had altered, changed.
Head bowed, he hung over her, their kiss finally broken, their bodies slowing, then halting, muscles quivering.
In that instant he knew, had a moment of blinding clarity. Through the sound of his sawing breaths, her softer pants, he heard the inner truth. Knew it.
He’d intended her to be caught — to be captured by the sensual delight so she would yearn for it, want more of it, so that when he offered for her hand, when he offered the prospect of constant indulgence, she would agree.
He’d intended to fashion a net from the silken ropes of passion, one with which he might hold her.
He’d intended to trap her.
He hadn’t intended to become ensnared, too.
Yet he was.
Even as the knowledge resonated in his brain, satiation slammed into him, rolled inexorably over him,
