Never had she imagined that anything like this existed. He slid a finger inside her easily while his mouth continued to stroke the flesh above her entrance. She was falling apart, breaking into pieces. He seemed to know just when to push her further, and she strained, fighting against the wave that threatened to drown her.
But his gentle invasion suddenly crested in a shimmering eruption of pleasure so fierce, she shuddered at the sensations. His hands reached up to touch her bare breasts, gently caressing her nipples as his mouth feasted.
And she came apart a second time, crying out as her body released.
Emma didn’t know what was happening, but a moment later, he reversed their positions. Her body was still quaking, but now she was lying on top of him. He guided the tip of his rigid manhood to her wet entrance, and the sensation was not painful—instead, it made her crave more. She wanted him inside her, needed him.
She rose up to her knees, guiding him inside, but he didn’t move. It was then that she realized he was allowing her to take control. He’d shown her the mind-searing pleasure that could be between them, and he didn’t want to hurt her now.
Her breathing was unsteady, but she tried to take more of him inside.
“Easy,” he said. “Just do what feels good, Emma.”
She realized then that he would not force their joining—instead, he’d empowered her to reach for what she wanted. He kept his hands upon her hips and raised up slightly. When his mouth covered one of her nipples, the aching between her legs made her want more, and she pressed against him. He lifted her hips once again, and she pressed down. The rhythm of taking him inside and then rising up was starting to bring back the sensations of pleasure she remembered.
He continued suckling at her breast, and she pushed back, no longer caring what happened. And then abruptly, she pushed past the barrier of her own innocence, until he was fully embedded inside her. There was a slight pain, but not nearly as bad as she’d imagined. Her knees rested on either side of him, and he held her in his arms.
“Is it... over?” she ventured. Now that they were joined, was that all there was?
“Not yet.” There was a strain in his own voice, but he asked, “Did I hurt you?”
“I’m a little sore, but no. I don’t think so.” She didn’t know what he meant when he said it wasn’t over yet, but she moved slightly against him, and he groaned.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I should stop.”
“Don’t,” he said in a husky voice. “Emma, will you let me continue?”
She didn’t know what else was going to happen, but she said, “Yes, of course.”
Gently, he moved her to her back, his body still inside hers. Slowly, he started to withdraw, but then he slid in deep. The motion startled her, but it evoked the same delicious feelings she’d known before. Cormac began to penetrate in a slow rhythm that seemed to caress her deep inside. She dug her fists into the coverlet again, overwhelmed by the sensations pouring over her. Once again, he pushed her over an invisible edge, and her body seized up with tremors, squeezing around him as he thrust.
He continued on, and she met his rhythm, arching her back and gripping his backside.
She felt the moment his body tensed, and he drove hard against her, finding his own release. Skin to skin, she welcomed his embrace, and he collapsed against her, sweaty and hot.
She’d never known that lovemaking was like this, and a part of her heart broke away at the thought of losing this man. He’d warned her not to fall in love with him, but it would take every defense she had to shield her heart. Even then, it might already be too late.
*
Cormac stared outat the sea, watching the waves slide across the sand in a soft motion. Emma had insisted that they leave everything behind and travel with only a few bundles of clothing, a coach, and money. Over the past week, they had stayed at traveling inns with a coachman and a single footman until now they were a short distance from the crossing. His wife had ordered the servants to travel separately and to send all their belongings to his home in Ireland.
Something had shifted in Emma’s demeanor since they’d left London. He didn’t know what it was, but he suspected she was on her own personal quest to help him heal.
Cormac knew better than to give himself false hope. Time and again, he’d started to improve, only for the symptoms to return. But he couldn’t deny that ever since they’d arrived by the sea yesterday evening, he was starting to feel stronger again. He didn’t know whether it was because they’d left London or whether it was the fresh air, but he intended to savor the time with Emma.
He had brought her to a more isolated part of the strand, and there were fewer people here now that the sun was setting.
She appeared enchanted by the view and smiled at him. “Is it terrible that I want to walk along the edge of the sea in my bare feet?”
“It’s going to be cold,” he warned.
“I know. But I want to feel the sand and what it’s like to have the waves wash over my feet.” The wistful expression on her face could not be denied.
“I’ll help you with your stockings,” he offered.
Emma flushed and answered, “No need. I can manage.” She sat down in the sand and removed her shoes. Cormac caught a glimpse of her bare legs before she rolled down her stockings, one at a time. Then she stood in her bare feet, a smile spreading over her face. “I’ve never stood in sand before.”
He gave in to impulse and removed his own shoes and stockings. The sand was cool beneath his feet, and he took her hand in his. “Do you want to walk in the waves?”
