Despite the blush that rose to her cheeks at the thought of being naked in front of him, she couldn’t help but smile.Next time.
Positioning himself between her legs, his eyes held hers. She couldn’t have spoken if she wanted to. The emotion of the moment had not only swelled her heart, it had also swelled her throat.
She’d dreamed about this for so long, but never had she imagined it would be so perfect.
“It might hurt a little,” he warned.
But the warning was lost in the storm of sensation that followed, as the thick head of his manhood started to nudge inside her with a gentle rocking motion of his hips. He moved like a dream. It felt like a dream. The connection was everything she’d imagined and more. She felt possessed. Claimed. Filled. Bound to him in a primitive way that could never be undone.
But it wasn’t without some discomfort.
“God, you feel so good,” he said tightly, his gaze once again filled with intense concentration. He was being gentle with her—patient—and clearly it wasn’t easy for him.
“Good” wasn’t the word she would use. He felt…big. As in “perhaps he was the wrong size for her” big. She tensed as her body struggled to take him in.
“Almost there, sweetheart. God, I’m sorry…”
She didn’t need to ask for what. He held her gaze and gave one last determined push. She gasped, not only at the sensation of him seated fully inside her, but at the sharpness of the pinch.
Hurt a little? Her body screeched at the invasion.
But not for long. He started to kiss her again, murmuring all these sweet things against her mouth and near her ear—which tickled and made her shiver at the same time—about how he was sorry, how it would go away, and how he was going to make her feel good—really good.
He was right.
After a few minutes she forgot about the pain, and no longer felt like a wall that had had its defenses breached with a battering ram. The tension eased with his tender kisses and words, and discomfort was replaced by something else—arousal. A small flutter at first, and then a much larger one as he started to move. Slow and easy in the beginning, getting her used to the motion, and then a little harder and deeper.
He was kissing her still, his body sliding over hers with each stroke. The feel of all that radiating masculine power, all that strength, moving over her—inside her—was incredible. It made her want to move with him.
Which she did. Much, apparently, to his approval. Aye, she could hear the sounds of just how much he liked it with every thrust of his hips, marked by a fierce grunt that sent a wicked shiver of pleasure slithering down her spine.
She’d expected the intimacy and connection—though hadn’t realized the intensity—but she’d never realized howphysicallovemaking would be. Not unlike the training she did in the yard. The more of her body she put into it, the better it felt.
He was working hard, too. His body was warm and slick with exertion—and getting warmer and slicker by the minute. Surprisingly, she liked it. She liked feeling his muscles bunch under her hands as he thrust into her, she liked bracing herself to absorb the impact, and she liked feeling the fiery heat of his passion under her fingertips.
He even smelled good. Of course he did, she thought with a smile. Even sweat smelled clean on Gregor MacGregor. The heat only seemed to enhance the subtle masculine spice of his skin. It made her want to press her nose against him and inhale, letting the arousing scent pour over her.
He looked so dark and fierce, and so incredibly gorgeous, that when their eyes met—and held—her heart squeezed with so much happiness, the poignancy was so sharp and intense it was almost painful.
He was beautiful, what he was doing to her was beautiful, and she loved him so much it hurt.
He must have recognized the look because his gaze softened.
“Are you all right?”
She smiled. “Better than all right. It feels amazing.”
“Just wait,” he said with a slow smile. “It’s about to get even better.”
She knew he was a man she could rely on. He was good to his word.
He slowed his thrusts, moving his hips in a long, circular stroke that started out slow and easy, and then went faster and deeper, making her moan every time their bodies came together and sending a fresh wave of sensation tingling between her legs.
God, he was incredible. His body was like an instrument of pleasure, every move, every stroke, calculated to hit the perfect note.
He knew exactly how to bring her pleasure, and he did—almost more than she could take. She could hear the music building in her ears. The beating of her heart, the quickening of her breath, the echo of their moans as they pounded together toward the final beat. Toward one spectacular crescendo.
“Oh God!” he bit out between gritted teeth.
