Simultaneously Sloane felt the change. Turning her in his arms, he lowered his lips to kiss her softly. “I thought of you all the while I was away—picturing you here, wanting to hold you just like this. I need you, Justine. I—” The thought went unspoken as his attention was totally absorbed by her features, soft and open and overwhelmingly feminine in invitation.
She was a gentle spring flower, tall and slender, brandy-budded and ready to bloom. Sloane was her sun. It had been his riveting command which had sparked her growth, this sense of unfolding deep within, this sense of awakening. Now nothing less than his total possession would see it to fruition. He was the catalyst, the most moving force to have ever entered her life. For him alone was she willing to put aside past vows and bask in the moment’s glory.
His kiss drew her inexorably closer to him. His sensual appeal was an intoxicant, pushing all other thought from mind. As he held her back for a long moment, his hands explored her curves, exhausting their outer limits before moving inward. He inspired total submission with his knowing touch, exacting helpless sighs from her as his fingers caressed the fullness of her breasts, made even firmer by his stimulation. Intuitively seductive, Justine strained against him, her arms velvet petals stretching up to cling to his neck. Whatever Sloane did to her she wanted; she wanted whatever he could give. Her life at that moment was Sloane; her being needed his for completion.
Her breasts glowed in creamy sheen when he slid the sweater over her head, then released the catch of her bra and discarded it quickly. The warmth of his hands sent quakes of desire through her, heightening a need which only he could fill.
But submission was not what he wanted. Taking her hand in his, he put it to his chest in silent command, urging her to touch him as he touched her. Instinct guided her fingers over and around the buttons of his shirt as, one by one, each was released. She gasped in wonder when the shirt fell to the floor, for it revealed a chest bronzed and broad, matted lightly with a T of gray-spiced curls that tapered to a narrow thread, then disappeared beneath the snap of his jeans.
“Go on,” he urged softly, his urgency barely held in check. She touched him, timidly at first, then steadily thrilling to the glory of his body. Her fingertips traced a route from the leanness of his ribcage, made even leaner by his sharply sucked-in breath, to the dual swells of muscle which spanned his chest, then up and over the firmness of his well-padded shoulders. She moved in closer against him, reveling in the feel of her breasts, her nipples alive and taut, against the warm texture of him.
Again he spoke. “Wait here, sweetheart.” She felt robbed of life when he moved away to crouch down on the floor and deftly spread the sleeping bags one on top of the other. “Our mattress.” He smiled up at her, then held his hand out for her to take it.
In a moment of intruding reality, Justine realized the extent of what was about to take place. Her insides began to tremble, her limbs to quiver weakly. But she wanted Sloane. She needed him. His appeal to her feminine drive crushed all thought of future torment. There was fear and uncertainty—but only that she might not please him. Above all there was excitement and anticipation, the awareness that she was on the threshold of something new and wonderful. Her eyes held his, then dropped to the strong hand that reached for hers. Irrevocably she took it.
“Sloane,” she whispered, sinking down onto her knees before him, “I’ve never … I haven’t done this … I’m …” The words seemed all wrong and out of place, totally irrelevant amid the torrent of emotion which surrounded them. But she needed to tell him. Her green eyes were open and beseeching, her voice barely audible. “I’ve never been … with a man before….”
Her pulse faltered, then raced ahead. It had been said. Would he laugh? Scowl? Think any less of her? He had no way of knowing why she had lived as chaste a life. He couldn’t know of the hurt she’d suffered as a child and her resultant fear of an involvement to which sex was a potential stepping-stone. Now all that seemed secondary. But would he understand?
As she watched intently, his face took on a softer set than she had ever seen. His eyes, dark with desire, glowed with pleasure as well. He stared at her, seemingly unable to believe what she’d told him. When she shook her head slowly to reinforce the confession, he reached up and wound his fingers through her amber waves. Fierceness was tempered by wonder as he spoke low and husky. “Then I’m the first … to…?”
She nodded silently, reasoning in part to herself. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have said anything but … I thought you should know….”
“My God, Justine! You’re damned right I should know! It’s not every day that a woman gives her virginity to a man.” He paused, his thumbs caressing the corners of her quivering lips. “Are you sure, absolutelysure,that you want this?”
Her nod was slow and deliberate. “I want you, Sloane. Is it totally wanton of me to say that? I’ve never wanted anything as badly before. But I want you … I need you now.” With growing confidence, she slid her hands across the flesh of his middle and around to his back, pulling herself closer to him. “Please, Sloane,” she whispered softly, as a surge of intense desire seared her insides, “please make love to me.”
He lowered his arms to imprison her in rapture, pressing against the small of her back such that she knew his desire was as great as hers. But he was slow and unhurried in his move to undress her, masterfully building her need, and his own, to a frenzied crescendo before finally laying her back and tugging off first hers, then his own jeans. His hand rubbed over the silken fabric of her panties, caressing her thighs, her stomach, all the searing hot contours between. Step by step, he led her, round and round the spiral of desire, ever higher, ever higher. When at last they lay, side by side, flesh against flesh, she felt aflame and about to burst. “Now … now, Sloane,” she begged him shamelessly.
With a soft moan, he moved to blanket her with the warmth of his body, to absorb her pain, that pain that would be inevitable. At her helpless cry, he stilled, then held her tightly. “It’s all right, sweetheart. That’s all. It won’t hurt anymore. I promise.” Her short gasps slowly lengthened to a less agonized, more heady pace as a gentle exquisite warmth stole over her, bearing the first of the pleasure in its ever-widening wake. The flower had burst its bud and now opened, opened slowly and arched its way toward the sun.
With age-old rhythm Sloane moved above her, bidding her follow then join in perfect syncopation. He beckoned her higher, teaching her the joys of both her body and his as together they soared. Pleasure became glory, glory ecstasy, and then—a final explosion of utter fulfillment, a moment of supreme happiness surpassing all others. Their bodies were one, their minds were one; time stood still.
“I love you,” she murmured breathless from the apex of her joy, “I love you, Sloane Harper.” She had neither planned it nor expected it, yet the fact remained that shewasin love. That had made the difference, she realized now. It was all new and had taken her by storm. She couldn’t say it enough. “I love you.”Thiswas what it had all been about.
He lifted his head from its panting collapse on her shoulder and looked at her then, his skin damp and vibrant beneath her fingers. His heart beat in wild disturbance, but the grin that spread slowly across his lips left no room for doubt as to the pleasure she in her innocence had given him. “Itoldyou we would be in agreement on everything, didn’t I?” he crooned, his voice a deep rasp of emotion. “It’s about time though. You certainly kept me waiting long enough!”
His smile was warm against her hair as he let his head fall forward once more. Beads of sweat mingled with the coppery wisps that framed her face.
“Waiting long enough?” she shrieked, light-headed. “My God, I’ve only known you for three weeks and a day—and most of that time you were on the far side of the continent! I’m even surprised youdidmake love to me”—she laughed softly, recalling another time when it might have been—“considering your thoughts about women who jump into bed with men they’ve known forvery short times!”
“This was different.” He laughed down at her, then rolled to the side and propped his head up on his palm. “I gave you plenty of time to think about it. That’s one of the reasons I didn’t call you while I was gone. I was afraid I might get carried away with sentimentality—”
“And what’s wrong with sentimentality?”
“You’re the prim and proper lady lawyer.Youtellme!”
A frown crossed her brow as she feigned chagrin. “Hmmm, you’re right. I haven’t led a particularly sentimental life. Busy. Interesting. Rewarding. Challenging. But not terribly sentimental, is it?” Looking down, her eye caught the contour of his thigh, so firm and manly that she simply could not restrain the hand that reached out to mindlessly touch it. Caught up with fascination, she traced the tendoned length upward, then outlined the thin white markings where once a bathing suit had been.
“Oooo, lady,” the voice above her inhaled sharply. “That’s very dangerous …”
“But, I thought …” Her own eyes told her how misinformed she had been. “Sorry about that,” she whispered, then caught his eye. She wasn’t sorry at all. And her expression said it all.
With slow seduction, he met her unspoken challenge. And it was, to her astonishment, even more beautiful than before. If that first experience had been the blossoming, this second was the enrichment. With Sloane as a gentle and experienced guide, she learned how best to play his man’s body and, in so doing, to fine-tune her own. When at last, as one, they reached that awesome pinnacle of ecstasy and tumbled over its edge in free fall, she felt that she had, indeed, become a woman.
Bodies intertwined, they slept, not to awaken until the last of the sun’s flame had been banked for the night. Dusk was at hand, shrouding the world with its purple-hued mist. At its center, Justine glowed, wanned by love and passionately fulfilled.
“Hungry?” Sloane asked softly, turning to stroke the wayward curls from her temple.
