But the way he looked at her—hungry, waiting, wanting her to—
AndGod, she wanted to.
Catherine asserted her lips against his. She drew out the kiss, committing to imprint every sensation onto memory, yearning to make it last while the sun wheeled through the sky and the moon chased ragged clouds against a scattering of bright sand.
She ended by closing her teeth around his lower lip, drawing it out as she withdrew. The reward was more precious than gold. His sharp intake of breath was sweeter than any praise. To know she'd put that tremor in him, that she could make him want her this achingly.
He surged forward, seeking her mouth again, but she leaned back. Her finger touched his lips in warning. He captured it between his teeth. That scrape sent lightning through her. His tongue stroked across her fingertip, slow and deliberate, before she managed to wriggle free.
Her mouth went dry with desire, forcing her to swallow to moisten it.
With her dampened finger, she traced the curve of his mouth. Then she tilted his head and found his ear with her lips. A soft kiss first. Then her teeth closed on his earlobe, firm enough to make him gasp.
A low groan escaped him. His eyes fell shut as she moved lower, trailing kisses down the column of his throat. Each press of her lips followed by the gentle graze of her teeth. The combination made pleasure bloom hot and insistent between her thighs. She squeezed them together, pressed herself against the hard length of him beneath her, and nearly whimpered at the pleasure that sparked through her.
Meticulously, her mouth worked its way down his neck until she was impeded by his collar.
“Unnecessary garment,” she murmured against his skin, fingers seeking his cravat pin. The fabric loosened and fell away. She fumbled at the laces of his shirt, her hands shaking. “Help me. I can’t...”
He pulled the strings free and dragged the garment over his head in one fluid motion. It tumbled down the slope before catching on a twig over the bubbling stream.
Catherine stared.
Her hands splayed across his bare chest, learning the landscape of him. Taut muscle beneath warm skin. Scars she’d glimpsed at the lake now within reach of her fingertips.
“How did you come to be so strong?” She pressed a kiss to the center of his chest, her palms sliding outward across the breadth of his pectorals.
“I worked.” His voice had roughened. “Had to. To eat. To survive.”
“How old were you?”
“Young enough that it...” He paused. “It doesn’t matter now. It’s past.”
“It made you who you are.” Her lips feathered lower. “I wouldn’t change that.”
“I would have you this assertive more often,” he purred with a gleam in his eye.
She glanced up at him through thick lashes, then lowered her head to his chest. Her mouth found his nipple. The sound he made when she took it between her lips sent heat flooding through her. She moved to the other side, letting her tongue trace a wet path across his skin.
He groaned her name.
So men feel this too…
He was sliding down the rock, taking her with him as he came to rest on the leafy, mossy ground. She shifted, hiking her skirts high enough to straddle him properly. The fabric bunched at her thighs, baring her stockings and the pale skin above them to the dappled sunlight.
She leaned down and kissed him again. Deep. Wet. His body arched beneath hers, hard everywhere she was soft, and the answering ache low in her belly intensified until she thought she might conflagrate from it.
She rolled her hips against him. The pressure was exquisite torture. She did it again, learning what made him groan.
“Christ, Catherine.” His voice was rough, wrecked. “You're going to kill me…”
His hands slid up the backs of her legs, slow and possessive. When his fingers found the sensitive hollows behind her knees, she gasped in pained pleasure, her head lolling back. He chuckled lowly as he traced higher, palms molding to the shape of her thighs. Each inch he claimed sent liquid lava spreading through her.
When he reached the curve where thigh became bottom, his touch gentled, fingertips exploring flesh that had never known a man’s hands.
“So soft,” he murmured against her throat. “Perfect.”
A whimper escaped her.
