She cradled his face in her hands, dragged his mouth to hers, and murmured against his lips, “You. I want you. All of you.” She wrapped her fingers around his wrist and moved his hand lower until each of his strokes grazed her inner thigh.
Ciaran groaned as his cock gave a desperate surge. He let his knuckle slide over the sweet spot between her legs, another tormented groan breaking from his lips when he felt how wet she was. He lowered his face to her breasts and took a nipple back into his mouth as he sank one finger inside her. He worked her slowly, sliding over her slippery center, teasing and stroking until she was pleading, her breath hot in his ear.
He pushed gently against the insides of her thighs. “Open for me, sweetheart.”
Her legs fell open, her back arching. Soft whimpers fell from her lips. “Ciaran, please.”
“Do you ache for me, Lucy? Right here?” He dragged his body over hers, nudging her legs wider with a twist of his hips. He reached down to take himself in hand and teased the head of his cock against the wet heat between her silky thighs.
They both sucked in a breath. Lucy’s fingernails scored his back, and a soft hiss left Ciaran’s lips. He hovered over her, dipping his head down to take her mouth while he moved carefully between her legs. “I want you so much, Lucy.”
Her hand settled on his cheek and she turned his face to hers. “I want you, too.”
He kissed her palm, but held back a few moments more, thrusting gently against her until she grew more used to the rhythm of his body between her legs.
Then, with one quick, powerful surge, he was inside her.
Lucy gasped. Ciaran froze, every nerve in his body screaming with tension as he held himself perfectly still. Lucy was panting under him, her body rigid. “Ah, sweetheart. I’m sorry.” He leaned over her, murmuring soothing words as he dropped gentle kisses against her hair, her cheeks, her throat, her lips.
Gradually her breathing steadied, and her body relaxed beneath his. “I’m all right.” She caressed his cheek, her mouth opening in wonder as she shifted a little beneath him, accustoming herself to the feel of him inside her. After a few moments she arched against him, a hesitant thrust, and wrapped her legs around his hips.
“Ah God, Lucy.” He threw his head back, gritting his teeth against the pleasure. He was already on the jagged edge of release, ready to spill inside her, but he held back, his neck stiff with strain as he moved in slow, restrained thrusts until Lucy’s breaths grew ragged, and she was lifting herself against him with every nudge of his hips.
“Ciaran.” His name disintegrated into a desperate moan on her lips. “I—I need…”
He gave her what she needed, his hips plunging as he thrust harder and faster into her, urged on by her choked cries in his ears. A groan tore loose as his climax slid closer, the base of his spine tingling, tightening, his vision blurring as he held off his release, waiting for her.
“Come for me, Lucy,” he growled, his teeth grazing her neck. He reached between her legs and stroked his fingers over her. One stroke, two, and that was all it took before she was gasping, her body tightening around him as she fell over the edge into trembling, moaning bliss.
Ciaran was right behind her, his back bowing, her name an incoherent plea on his lips as he shuddered over her, his cock jerking as he spilled himself inside her.
Afterward he held her tightly against him, dazed, both of their bodies slick with sweat. He gazed down at her, brushing strands of damp hair away from her face. “I’ve never…it’s never been like that before.”
Because he’d never cared for anyone before.
Not in the way he cared for her. With all of himself, with everything inside him.
She touched his cheek, bringing his mouth down to hers. Then she kissed him so softly, so sweetly he was certain his heart was going to burst from his chest.
Ciaran didn’t remember falling asleep. He remembered rolling onto his side and gathering her against him. He remembered tucking her head under his chin, and the scent of her hair. He remembered the feel of her slender back pressed against his chest, and her soft, contented sigh before he drifted off, his arms wrapped around Lucy.
Chapter Twenty-two
Ciaran had never given much thought to ladies’ undergarments before. Not until the following morning when he woke up and discovered Lucy’s shift was the single most seductive article of clothing he’d ever seen.
He’d taken great care to wrap her up in it before he’d fallen asleep in the early morning hours, easing it gently over her head and smoothing it down her legs until it hid every hollow and curve that had driven him to madness the night before.
As it turned out, the thin linen didn’t hide a bloody thing. Not the arch of her neck, the long, tempting line of her legs, the gentle swell of her hips and breasts, the sweet shape of her nipples, or the tantalizing shadow between her thighs.
Ciaran rolled onto his back on the bed and threw an arm over his eyes.
Flimsy, worthless bit of cloth.
Fine, then. He simply wouldn’t look. If he didn’t look at her he wouldn’t be tempted to touch her again. He was a gentleman, after all, not an animal, and a gentleman didn’t trifle with a lady who hadn’t yet agreed to marry him.
He certainly didn’t do ittwice.
But then a lady didn’t invite a man to her bed unless she intended to marry him, and that meant Lucy had come to her senses at last.
