Lily reached up and pressed her lips to his, and felt him shudder. The kiss deepened at the same moment as Radulf’s finger thrust itself further into her heat. Lily gasped and trembled like a shot bird, dizzy with the sensations he was drawing from her. His finger stroked boldly, mimicking his tongue in her mouth.
Lily peaked with a cry, shuddering and clutching at his chest. He waited while she calmed, soothing her with gentle caresses over her back and shoulders. Then he lifted the gown and chemise from her, leaning forward to kiss her breasts, his tongue lathing the sensitive nipples. Lily moaned, her fingers clutching his head to bind him closer.
Gently, but firmly, he pulled away. Dazed gray eyes met heated dark ones. Radulf smiled. “Now it’s your turn,” he murmured.
Delicate color flooded her face as she grasped his meaning. For a moment Vorgen, and all the bitterness and doubt he had heaped upon her, swam through her mind. Her touch was poison, vile . . . And yet she wanted dearly to touch him.
Slowly, tentatively, Lily ran her hands up under Radulf’s shirt, raising it to his shoulders. The hard muscles of his chest rippled under brown skin.
She leaned forward to press her lips against him, the strands of dark hair tickling her nose. Her tongue flicked over his nipples, then down his breastbone, to his hard, flat stomach. Radulf groaned, and Lily stopped.
Uncertainly, her gaze lifted to his.
Her own blood was on fire from simply touching him, and she was amazed to see that Radulf, too, was burning. From her touch, her kisses! The realization gave her courage. Her fingers found the ties.
She was slow at first, clumsy, but as Radulf leaned forward to press hot little kisses over her face and down the line of her throat, she quickened, tugging eagerly at the laces.
The waist of his breeches loosened suddenly as the knot came free. Quickly Lily pushed them down so that she could see . . . She sighed. Ah, this was what Vorgen had lacked. She hadn’t then understood what could happen to a man who desired a woman. Radulf pulled back slightly and Lily hesitated, her fingers cool against his stomach. Again she remembered Vorgen—she couldn’t help it.
“Go on, lady.” Radulf’s voice was husky, sending deep tremors through her. “Touch me.”
Lily’s hand slid down, and tentatively, wonderingly, she closed around the hard length of him.
He was so smooth, so big. Velvet-covered iron. At the tightening of her grip, Radulf groaned again, closing his eyes. Lily instantly relaxed her fingers, moving to withdraw, but his own hand closed over hers, giving her back her courage.
“I want you so much. Touch me, mignonne, feel me. This is all for you. I am yours.”
Flushed, her eyes bright, Lily obliged. “You like me to do this, my lord?” she whispered.
Radulf heard the surprise in her voice, and dismissed it as a virgin’s qualms. “Aye, Lily,” he managed, with a half laugh, half groan. “I like it very much. But we have not finished yet.”
If she kept on with her petting and stroking, Radulf knew he would explode. Gently, he took her hands in his, placing them about his neck. He leaned forward to kiss her, and at the same time clasped his hands about her waist. He lifted her up from her cozy spot on his lap.
Lily gave a startled squeal, clinging to his shoulders. He smiled into her uncertain eyes, his own like a night sky in July, so hot. Slowly, slowly he lowered her, until the tip of his manhood just nudged the blond curls between her thighs. Looking down, Lily held her breath. He lifted her again, then lowered her, and then again, each time sliding deeper into the welcoming sheath.
Radulf’s mouth found her breasts, pulling at the nipples, sucking hard. Lily gasped and arched them toward him, head thrown back, hair spilling about her. As he settled himself deeply and entirely within her, Lily leaned forward, brushing frantic butterfly kisses over his face and throat.
Radulf gripped her hips more firmly, then thrust up deeply. Lily’s palms slid over his chest. She trembled, gasping, as he seemed to reach the very core of her being. The pleasure pooled between them, heavy and hot. Lily dug her fingers into his shoulders, holding on tightly, fearing she might be torn apart and flung to the four winds. When the convulsing climax took them, Radulf’s dark eyes stared into hers.
He spoke no words, yet it was as if Lily heard his vow: Whatever happens after, in this moment you are mine.
The strength went out of her body and she collapsed against Radulf, her cheek on his shoulder, his breath warm in her hair. “Whatever happens after,” she murmured.
Chapter 7
Lily lifted her face to the sun, easing her aching back and legs. The constant riding was tiring, and she had discovered sore spots in surprising places all over her body. Although, she thought, hiding a smile, there could be other reasons for her tenderness.
Last night they had camped on a sheltered hillside. Radulf had taken Lily to his tent, his arms all the warmth she needed as they lay together in the darkness. He treated her as if she were as necessary to him as food and water. Already her body had learned his so well that merely standing close to him caused a tremor of anticipation, her nipples hardening, warm moisture pooling between her thighs.
And Radulf felt it, too, she was certain of that.
She looked up now, sensing his eyes upon her, and noticed that he had indeed turned his head to seek her out. His expression might be deeply shadowed beneath his helmet, but she knew the emotion that would shape it.
Desire. Need.
Radulf wanted her.
Lily understood completely, for she wanted him, too.
