“I ought not to have imbibed.” Shame wanted to return to her, but then he plucked at her nipple again and fresh sensation blossomed. “It was dreadfully…oh.”
She closed her eyes and arched her back, wanting more of that delicious contact. Never before had she realized how sensitive her breasts were, how eager for touch. His teasing caresses were a revelation. Her bottom was pressed more snugly to him, his rigid length more pronounced.
His manhood, she realized, her mouth going dry. Instinctively, she wiggled her rump, trying to get closer, aching for him in places she had not realized could ache.
He made a low sound, half-growl, half-groan. “Stop moving like thatquerida, or I will not rest until I am inside you.”
Shewantedhim inside her. She wanted him near to her, a part of her. She wanted more than just his hand on her breast and his body pressed to her back.
She wantedeverything.
Surely Mama was wrong about the wedding night. What woman could think of rain or wind when Alessandro Forsythe touched her thus?
She moved against him slowly. “Stop moving how?”
“Like that.” His hand left her breast, gliding down her belly to grip her waist. He undulated against her. “I do not want to take you now. The day will be a long one, and I have no wish to be the source of discomfort for you.”
She moved again, allowing her instinct to guide her rather than his warning words. There again was the suggestion she would not like the marriage bed. That it would cause her pain. But thus far, it was difficult indeed to believe Alessandro could bring her anything more than pleasure.
“Did we… last night,” she began softly, “I do not recall…”
“If I made love to you,querida, you would remember,” he said, the promise in his words heating her blood even more.
“Oh.”
His lips settled upon her neck, and this kiss was slow and hot, followed by another, then another. “Dios, I want you.” His hand traveled from her waist, gliding over her hip. “I want you too much.”
That hardly sounded like a problem to Catriona.
“I want you, too,” she confessed on a sigh of bliss as his hand fisted in the skirt of her night rail, dragging the hem over her knees.
Desperately, she could have added, but refrained.
Higher still, he pulled the hem, all the way to her waist. He explored her thigh in slow, tender caresses. And then he kissed the place where her shoulder and neck met before sinking his teeth into her flesh and delivering a light nip.
Dear heavens.That was… He was…
His touch drifted over her inner thigh before settling between her legs. His fingers delved into the sensitive flesh there, parting her folds, nimbly working over a part of her that made her jolt and cry out. The pleasure was intense. Unlike anything she had ever felt.
Terrifying and thrilling all at once.
“Has anyone ever touched you here,querida?” he asked against her skin.
His wicked fingers continued to tease her, stroking, stoking the fire within her. “No,” she said on a gasp.
“You are so wet.” He groaned into her shoulder, kissing her over the fabric of her night rail. “All for me.”
The raw desire in his voice heightened her awareness. She was more than desperate now. She was voracious. Mindless and greedy. Beneath the bedclothes, her hand found his arm. She clutched him, urging him on.
He bit her shoulder. Not hard enough to hurt, but with more pressure than the last little nip. It was a sign, she knew, he too was losing control. He was just as helpless to resist the undeniable connection between them as she was.
With his other hand, he urged her onto her back. Though she instantly missed the heat and strength of him behind her, she recognized the benefit of her new position instantly when he nudged her thighs apart. Their gazes connected in the early morning light as his fingers worked over her faster, rubbing her into a frenzy.
Watching him as he touched her so intimately heightened the sensations already threatening to overwhelm her. She felt as if she were going to come apart. As if something inside her was about to break open.
“Sí,” he rumbled with approval, his free hand tunneling into her hair. “Take your pleasure,querida.”
Nothing mattered but his touch. Her hips were moving, thrusting. He increased the pressure, knowing what she needed before she did.
