What was the proper word?Coupling?Ravishing?Thank God she was about to be ravished by this man. Or wasravishthe proper term since she very much wanted what would come next?
She moved over on the bed, holding her hand out for him.
He joined her, supporting himself on his hands. Leaning down, he kissed her.
This was not a gentle kiss, or one in which he’d held something back. This kiss scorched her lips, sucked her breath, hinted at pleasures she’d never felt. This kiss darkened the room and sent her spiraling out of control.
A sound escaped her as her hands reached up and gripped his shoulders, fingernails digging into his skin.
The throbbing beat was back, hammering at her, transforming shyness into a primitive need as he worked his way across her breasts, nipping at them with his teeth, soothing her skin with his heated lips. She curled her hands around his head, pressing him to her.
His hands were busy, stroking her curves, palming her, fingers splayed, both gentle and intrusive. His mouth was on her again, breasts, shoulders, the inner curve of her arm, the base of her throat. Never leaving, never giving her a chance to recover or become herself again. She didn’t know who this woman was but slipped into her heated body without protest, glorying in the sensations Montgomery gave her.
He moved away, and she answered his departure with a sound of protest. He smiled, then the smile faded as he lowered his head to kiss her once more. When he drew away again, she stroked her hands up his muscled arms, rested on his shoulders, and looked up at him, grateful she could see him in the faint light.
His eyes were heated, his face bronzed by passion.
Slowly, he raised himself.
She needed to brace for the pain, close her eyes and think of the Queen. She needed to remind herself that women through time had faced this anguish and survived it.
Her legs widened involuntarily, her hips rose to the exact angle to allow him penetration. He entered her gently, allowing her to accommodate herself not only to his size, but to the act itself. Yet what should have felt so foreign was oddly right, as if she’d been waiting for him to do exactly that. As if her body had patiently waited all those years to experience those very sensations.
He lowered his forehead to hers, his breath harsh.
“Am I hurting you?”
She shook her head from side to side. “It’s quite an unusual sensation, isn’t it?”
He raised his head.
“Is it?” he asked, his eyes glittering in the semidarkness.
She nodded. “It’s like putting on a pair of leather gloves after they’ve been treated. Snug, but not uncomfortable.”
“You’re feeling a little snug yourself,” he said. “Whereas, I’m feeling pretty damn good.”
He drew slowly out as she watched his face. All amusement gone, his expression was now intent.
Her hips rose again as if to entreat him to reconsider. He entered her again, taking his time, deepening the penetration. She felt a slight pinch, but nothing more than that.
Her hips rose when he left her, fell when he returned, repeated the dance with her hands clenched on his shoulders, her eyes wide, her gaze fixed on his face. He braced himself on his forearms, entering her, then pulling out just as gently, a slow, measured, careful seduction.
Her breath caught; her throat unexpectedly closed on tears.
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, closed her eyes, and held him as the rhythm between them quickened. He reached down between them with one hand, stroking her, coaxing pleasure with his fingers. She shivered where he touched, felt herself falling into darkness, then soaring higher. Her body bowed, arched up to meet his, and she cried out in surprise as pleasure washed through her again.
He buried his face in her hair as his body tightened. A second later, he whispered her name, drawing out the syllables in a voice turned silky, then collapsed on top of her.
She kept her eyes shut, her hands smoothing over his shoulders and the broad planes of his back, reveling in his body lying heavy on hers as if he claimed her still.
Too soon, he rolled over, his forearm over his eyes.
Was he disappointed in her? For long moments, they remained like that, neither speaking, or moving toward the other. Had she done something wrong?
“I was not supposed to move,” she said in the silence.
He turned his head.
