Grabbing her hand again, he walked her up the steps and to the bed atop the dais. Only then did he release her, long enoughto lift her in his arms and place her gently in the middle of the bed.
There she lay, a feast for him, her legs spread to reveal the glistening heart of her.
She was delicious, and he was so damn aroused he would have begged if she’d denied him.
He dragged off his shirt, his shoulders arching. He toed off his boots, watching her. Not once did she shield herself from him. Her arms rested at her sides, her hands flat against the coverlet. Her eyes were beginning to deepen in color, as if passion were heating her inside.
He wanted to explore every part of her. He wanted to taste and touch every inch.
Unfastening his trousers, he pulled his clothing off impatiently. Lowering himself to the bed, one hand traveled from her wrist, up her arm, across her shoulder, then down.
She sighed when he cupped a breast, teased the nipple. Slowly, his eyes still on hers so she’d have no doubt of his intent, he bent and took her nipple into his mouth. As he gently pulled with his lips, her hand came up to rest against his cheek.
His lips smoothed over her skin, teeth scraping against her curves as if to mark her as his. He was suddenly desperate to mate, urgent in a way he’d rarely been.
His fingers slid over her, into her as she flowed around him, liquid and soft. The feel of her was almost too much. Not yet. He wanted her panting and wanting before he entered her.
Her skin was flushed, felt hot; her eyes were closed as he drew small circles around her softness, moving faster, then slower.
“Montgomery.” His name was a siren call, a sweet, crooning sigh.
He raised his head, met her eyes, before moving down her body. When his mouth touched her, she gasped aloud in shock.
He placed his hands on each of her thighs, smoothing his palms against her heated skin as he spread her open. His mouth feasted on her as she made a sound in the back of her throat. Both of her hands flailed in the air, then gripped the coverlet. He felt her fingers dance across the top of his head, then her hips arch against him as he flicked his tongue across her.
She twisted in his grip as he tasted her, until she shuddered against him. and he was drenched with her passion.
He rose, looked at her. She lay splayed across the bed, her legs spread, her arms outstretched, her breasts heaving.
Her taste was on his tongue, the need for her a pounding beat in his blood.
He slid into her, bracing himself on his forearms, playing with the damp tendrils of hair at her temples. He moved over her like a shadow, a promise. She moaned, called his name as he rocked back and forth until he’d seated himself completely in her. He could feel her clench around him, almost came at that moment, the pleasure crawling up his spine and shivering through his body.
Her fingers dug into his shoulders, her eyes opened, dazed, alarmed, and pleased all at once. He wanted to fill her, lose himself in her, bury himself in the sweet heat of her body.
In her, he sought both forgiveness and forgetfulness.
Veronica gripped his shoulders, pulled him to her with the tyranny of the aroused. Her eyes closed, and she peaked again, her surprised gasp of pleasure summoning another of his smiles.
A tear slipped down her cheek, and he closed his eyes at the sight of it, buried his face in her hair, and felt himself erupt in a gushing flood.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, held him tight. He moved to the side and pulled her atop him. She tucked her head against him, her breath against his neck. Her heartbeat mirroredhis in its frenetic race. Her skin was damp; his hand stroked over the curve of her bottom possessively.
Words failed him. He couldn’t think of a damn thing to say. Not only was he physically sated, but he felt almost at peace, as if this act, this woman, had the power to reach deep inside and ease all the wounded places inside him.
A few moments later, she raised her head, propped her chin on her folded hands, and studied his face.
What did she see there?
Uncomfortable with her wordless inspection, he moved her away from him, suddenly hoping she wouldn’t speak.
When she was a little girl, Veronica had thought the world a magical place, where people like her, possessed of special gifts, were welcomed and understood. Maturity had left her with the knowledge people would never truly understand her Gift, and it was foolish to consider the world enchanted.
Yet, now, she wondered if she’d been wrong. What she’d felt with Montgomery had been nothing less than magic.
As he left the bed, she sat up, feeling self-conscious for the first time since he’d arrived in her sitting room. He went to where his trunks were stacked along one wall and unerringly chose the second to the last, opened it, and withdrew a robe. She’d thought he meant to wear it, but he returned to the bed naked, evidently feeling no shame about the state of his undress.
Why should he? He was so magnificently constructed that even then, when her body still thrummed from the pleasure he’d given her, she wanted to run her hands over his arms and legs, curve her palm around his shoulders, stroke his chest, and admire the man Providence, and her own impulsiveness, had made her husband.
