There seemed to be so much riding on that question that Elizabeth didn’t dare respond for fear that the moment would end... that everything would end. She didn’t want it to be over, not ever. Jolted by that revelation, she felt her heart begin to somersault against her ribs.
As though Cutter had read her thoughts, his caresses lengthened in that instant, drifting seductively over her hip, her thigh—everywhere but where she coveted his touch. Feeling wanton, she shivered at the brazen turn of her thoughts.
And then, when she least expected it, his hand was suddenly splayed over the sheets, over that most feminine part of her, drawing her firmly against his arousal, wanting her to feel him... to know what he wanted.
Elizabeth shivered with anticipation.
She wanted it, too.
How could something that felt so right be so wrong? It just couldn’t.
Cutter didn’t remove his hand, but instead lingered, pressing more provocatively, arousing her by increasing and withdrawing the pressure. Despite the intensity of his passion, he stroked her with controlled slowness, his body shuddering behind her. It sent another shiver through her. Elizabeth was unable to restrain the moan that escaped her constricting throat. With all her heart, she willed him to turn her around, to kiss her now in that same slow, rhythmic way he’d kissed her earlier, but he didn’t. His body only tensed behind her, until she could feel every tightly coiled inch of him.
Every tightly coiled inch.
“Lizbeth,” he whispered thickly, still stroking her. “Do you want me to go back to the chair?”
A strange panic beset her at the merest thought of his leaving the bed. Her voice failing her, Elizabeth shook her head, wanting him to stay, yet not able to speak the words.
Cutter kissed the back of Elizabeth’s head, brushing aside the silky length of her hair with his chin. “Then ask me to stay,” he whispered huskily, his lips so close to her neck that they burned, “‘cause I won’t stay unless you do.”
“Stay!” she cried.
Cutter seized her shoulder, shifting as he forced her abruptly onto her back to stare down into her face. Sweat beaded upon his brow as he wove the golden strands of her hair through his fingers.
“Say it again,” he demanded softly, his eyes slitting, penetrating her defenses. A fine sheen of moisture glistened over his shoulders and chest; one drop trickled slowly down his temple, glistening in the moonlight. “I wanna be sure I heard you right.”
Her own eyes slitted as Cutter once again began to stroke her arms so softly, so slowly, so seductively, that it drew the words from her lips, even when she was certain she hadn’t the courage for them. She sighed, her voice trembling with the whispery pleasure he was bringing her. “Stay with me, Cutter. Stay...”
For answer, Cutter groaned, lowering his mouth to hers, brushing the smooth heat of his lips against her own, gently at first—more tenderly than he ever had before—and then, when she moaned against his lips, he leisurely deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue, like liquid fire, between her teeth. Her breath broke at the renewed shock of it, her hands going around his neck of their own accord. He tasted and smelled of warm whiskey. Intoxicating.
With an oblivious groan, Cutter swept his tongue into the sweet depths of Elizabeth’s mouth, savoring the incredible taste of her. While he kissed her, his hand circled her trembling jaw, taming the trembling. The answering beat of her pulse against his fingertips nearly sent him over the edge. Hissing through his teeth, losing his reason, he slid his hand lower, shoving the blanket way from her precious breasts with an eagerness that surprised him. In that moment, he craved only the fullness of her flesh against his lips.
Slowly his hands raised her camisole, his lips seeking out their reward. But having bared her, he paused to drink in the delicious sight of her beneath him. Unable to deny himself, he reveled in the nipples that budded under the heat of his gaze. And then, most reverently, he positioned the warmth of one palm over one firm mound, inhaling deeply as it was unexpectedly thrust into his hands—an offering more magnificent than any he’d ever been given. With a thick groan of passion, he kneaded it softly, losing control over the satiny feel of it against his rugged skin. Felt so good—so right in his hand.
“So hot,” Elizabeth moaned. His touch was so hot—so deliciously hot. Like a cat, she arched against him, giving him everything, everything, and then, suddenly, he was peeling the blankets completely away with an urgency that startled her. In the next instant, he was atop her, but Elizabeth welcomed his weight, rejoiced in it. She moaned with the profound pleasure it gave her. His hands swept like wildfire over her body, scalding where he touched. With a titillating rhythm of his own making, he rocked against her, into her most intimate places, teasing until she thought she would surely lose her sanity.
Unable to keep herself from it any longer, Elizabeth lifted her trembling fingers to Cutter’s chest, wanting to touch him in every way that he’d touched her. Following his lead, her hands slid down the length of him, delighting in the male textures of his body.
In response, Cutter deepened the kiss, his tongue stabbing swiftly, and for the first time, Elizabeth understood what it was that gesture meant... because she wanted it, too... somewhere else... with the same fervor and depth that he was giving her mouth...
And more.
Emboldened by her own rising passion, she slid her hands down to his buttocks, raking him softly. But he jerked at her touch, hissing through his teeth. Fearful that she’d hurt him, Elizabeth snatched her hand away, but he caught it, drawing it back.
“No,” he murmured, “it was good.” He shuddered at the feel of her small, cool fingers moving like whispery butterfly wings on his thigh. “Damned good.” He released her at once, slipping his hands beneath her back, sliding them down to cup her bottom, and then pressing himself against her, rocking softly against her warmth and shuddering over the intensity of feeling that surged through him.
More than anything, he wanted her naked just now—stripped bare in his arms. Even down to her heart.
He wanted to see right into her soul.
To know if he was there.
As she was in his.
Elizabeth moaned, lifting herself against him, seeking him out, telling him without words what she craved.
Cutter smiled, almost savagely, a feral gleam in his eyes. “Tell me what you want,” he whispered huskily. If he couldn’t have what he wanted of her, then he would at least hear from her own mouth what she wanted of him.
