He paused. “Relax,” he said softly. “Let’s just kiss for a while,” and before she could say anything, his mouth was on hers again, and she gave herself wholly up to the delights of kissing.
As they kissed, his hands roved over her body, caressing, soothing away some nerves while at the same time arousing others. He feathered kisses everywhere: across hereyelids, in the delicate whorls of her ears, along her jawline; finding a pulse here, a sensitive spot there; causing exquisite shivers of pleasure wherever he went. He nibbled his way down her neck and she found herself arching sensuously like a cat beneath his ministrations.
He brushed a hand across her breast and the tight, aching nipple thrust hard against him. Cupping her breast in one big hand, he scratched the nipple lightly through the fabric of her chemise. She gasped as tiny sparks of sensation stabbed through her.
“You like that, don’t you?”
A kind of humming noise came from her. She wanted to say something to him, but her mind was blank of words: there was only sensation. And James. She ran her hands over him, enjoying the contrast of his hard, masculine body with the softness of hers, his smooth, firm chest. She pressed her face against the skin of his chest and inhaled deeply, as she’d wanted to do in the carriage earlier. Essence of James.
His big, warm hands caressed her thighs and hips and belly. How had she never known the delight of skin against skin? She caressed him feverishly, her heart pounding, her whole focus narrowed to whichever part of her body he was touching.
He cupped her face and kissed her again—deep, drugging kisses. Then he bent and placed his mouth over her breast and through her chemise, teased her nipple with his tongue. Waves of pleasure rippled through her, and then he sucked hard, and she arched and almost came off the bed as a fierce spear of pleasure-pain spiked through her.
She lay back, gasping, and before she realized it, he was raising her chemise. Her scrambled brain focused and she braced herself for his entry. But he kept pushing the chemise up. “Lift your bottom.” She lifted, and he pulled her chemise up over her head and tossed it aside. And she was naked.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, and she warmed at the appreciation in his voice.
He lowered his head to her breasts again, her full and aching breasts, unbearably sensitive, and she shuddered beneath him in waves of pleasure. And slowly her body built to an aching need for... she did not know what.
His hand slipped between her thighs and cupped her there. Warmth spread from where they touched, and her insides rippled and clenched.
One large finger moved, stroking the delicate folds, and a spear of hot sensation stabbed through her. Then another and another. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she trembled and writhed beneath his knowing caresses.
Her legs quivered, then fell apart, loose and trembling—her body was wholly out of her control. She thrust against his hand, frantically, feverishly, grasping for something, she knew not what.
Pressure built and built inside her, she thrashed against him, and just as she was sure she was going to burst, she heard a high, wavering sound as something happened and she... shattered.
Slowly her wits returned. She lay against him, her breath slowing, enveloped by a feeling of lazy euphoria. And amazement. Then as she was slowly drifting back to earth, he caressed her intimately again, rose up and entered her with one slow, sure movement.
Alice’s eyes flew open in surprise. There was no discomfort at all. It felt right, amazingly, wonderfully right.
He was watching her, his gray eyes intense, smoky with desire. He stroked her again in that place between her thighs, and she felt the excitement start to build again. He began to move within her, slow and deliberate, and she gasped with each thrust. Without conscious volition, she found herself lifting her body, pushing herself against him in time with each thrust.
“Wrap your legs around me,” he gasped, and she did, and oh, that was better. Closer. Tighter. Harder.
The pressure built inside her as before. She clung to him, rocking in rhythm, her body clenching around his powerful male body, feeling gloriously powerful, demanding faster, harder, more, more, more. He gave one last thrust and groaned loudly. She felt a hot gush of liquid inside her and heard herself give a high, thin scream as she shattered again, this time around him.
***
She might have slept for a little while—she wasn’t sure—all she knew was that she slowly floated back to awareness, like a feather languidly drifting to the ground. Feeling so wonderfully good. Sleepily euphoric.
She opened her eyes and found him lying on his side, watching her. “All right?” he murmured. He’d pulled the covers up over them, and she felt warm and safe and so comfortable.
She opened her mouth to tell him she felt wonderful, but instead, her mouth crumpled and her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, sweetheart.” He gathered her against him and held her, rubbing her back in a gentle, soothing rhythm.
Sobs jerked through her. “I-I’m s-sorry. It’s n-n-not—”
“Hush.”
“I’m n-not—”
“Don’t try to explain. It’s all right.”
“They’re g-goo-good tears,” she managed to choke out between sobs.
He gave a soft laugh. “I see. Just let them come. I don’t mind.” And he didn’t. He just held her, lending her his warmth, his strength. His acceptance.
After an embarrassingly long time, the hateful sobs stopped. There was no handkerchief, so Alice found her chemise at the foot of the bed and wiped her face with it.“I’m sorry,” she said on a gulp. “I don’t know why I’m crying. I—”
