“Why? Don’t you want to see the hard, jutting length of my desire?”
Her knees wobbled. “No.”
“Sweet little liar, you dosowant to see it. You’re curious as hell to see for yourself what a real-life lunging lance looks like.”
“Roman, I am going to hide the sexual treatise so you cannot read any more of it. Now, please pick up the towel and put it back on.”
He slid his arm around her waist. “I’ve got a lot of the book memorized, Theodosia. For example: ‘When a man lies with a willing virgin, he must remember that she has entrusted to him her entire future of lovemaking. He must hold her gently, fondle her tenderly, and speak sweet words to her so she will let go of her fears and become moist and well prepared to accept his pulsing staff.’”
Theodosia hadn’t the strength to object when he drew her close to him. As he had just described, his sex pulsed against her, and she felt herself moisten with a desire so intense that all she could think about was Roman fulfilling it.
Somehow, she thought of one weak protest. “Roman, have you forgotten what I told you in Singing Creek?”
“What was that?”
“That my willingness led you to believe that we would continue such intimate activities—”
“Oh, that. Yeah, I forgot it. I still can’t remember much of it.”
“Roman, it is extremely unfair of me to allow you such liberties because—”
“Theodosia, believe me. I see nothing at all unfair about what we’re doing. And now that we have that little worry of yours taken care of, let’s get back to what I read in your book,” Roman murmured. “The man has to hold the woman gently. Like this.” He curled his other arm around her and traced her spine with the tips of his fingers. “And he has to fondle her gently. Like this.” He brought his right arm around to her front and took her warm, full breast into his hand. “And now for the sweet words.”
Bending so that his mouth was but a sigh away from her ear, he pressed a soft kiss to her earlobe and tried to remember some of the sensual lines he’d read in the sexual treatise. He failed to recall any of them and realized that he’d been so absorbed by the passages concerning techniques of lovemaking that he’d only skimmed the parts that concerned flattering a woman.
So he’d make up his own sweet words. “I like your eyes,” he whispered. “They’re the color of tree bark. The color of a well-worn saddle. The color of whiskey, Theodosia, and if I look into them for a long while, I feel drunk.”
Theodosia barely heard him. She could only concentrate on the fact that he was naked, fully aroused, and pressing himself into her.
It was too late to stop him now, she knew. How could she ever have thought it possible to withstand the power of Roman’s magnetism in the first place? She could no more escape his hold on her than she could if she were bound to him with ropes.
Roman smiled when she went soft in his arms. “And your lips…pink as Secret’s tongue. As boiled gulf shrimp. Pink as dawn, Theodosia, and just as pretty.”
Turning his head, he kissed a path to her mouth. She parted her lips for him in sweet welcome. Reveling in his deep, unhurried kiss, she laid her hands on his broad shoulders and emitted a soft sound that was half moan, half whisper, and all surrender.
Roman lifted her into his arms, carried her to the bed, and gently laid her down. His eyes never leaving hers, he straightened, and as he stood beside the mattress, he silently demanded that she look at and know each part of him.
And Theodosia obeyed his sensual command…
Chapter Thirteen
His male beauty brought forthemotions she’d never realized existed. She felt more than astonished, more than captivated.
Wonder enveloped her, an all-consuming sense of awe that defied her to resist the yearning to touch him. Slowly, as if prolonging the pleasurable anticipation, she reached out her hand and slid her fingers into the thick black hair between his hips.
The sight of her pale skin against his darkness both startled and amazed her. Unaware that she was licking her bottom lip, she trailed one finger down his rigid masculinity.
Roman shuddered violently. His head fell back over his shoulders, and a tortured groan ripped from deep inside his chest. Raising his head again, he captured Theodosia with a look that bade her to watch his every move.
She did.
He cupped the soft pouch that hung between his thighs, and then slowly, slowly, closed his fingers around his thick arousal.
In total fascination, Theodosia watched as he glided his hands up and down. Suddenly, she comprehended what it was he wanted her to do.
She took him gently into her hand. Her own action filled her with a desire so deep, she swore she felt the beginnings of the sexual rapture Roman had once given her.
She lifted her gaze up to his face. “How I can feel the early tremors of pleasure before you have even touched me is beyond my comprehension, but I do feel them, Roman.”
