Once Touched, Never Forgotten - By Natasha Tate Page 0,51
against her, entering her one slow, exquisite inch at a time until she’d stretched to accommodate his thick length. Adrift in the perfection of their fit, she tipped her pelvis, drawing him even deeper. The angle of penetration sent a new jolt of bliss through her. Eager to grant him the pleasure he’d granted her, she flattened her hands against Stephen’s buttocks and then dragged her fingers up the quivering cords of muscle along his spine as she tilted toward him again.
Buried to the hilt within her welcoming heat, Stephen reached for her hips to still their movements. “Just a minute,” he said thickly against the scented curve of her neck. “When you move like that, I—”
Lifting her hips, she offered another encouraging nudge as she felt his tension peak.
“Wait!” he gasped. “Colette … I can’t …”
She ignored him, pulling as much of his length inside as possible, and the silky slide of her acceptance sent him over the edge. He thrust once, twice, and then climaxed with a groan, her name ripping from his throat.
A long, breathless, shuddering minute later, he lifted his head and scowled at her. “You cheated.”
“And you didn’t?” she parried, feeling beautifully feminine and powerful beneath the long, lovely weight of his body. She nudged her hips toward his again and an answering tremor of response rippled through them both. “Two can play at this game, you know.”
Laughing, he rolled to his back, hauling her with him. He gripped her head and pulled her down, her blond curls making a fragrant curtain around their faces, and kissed her roughly before nipping her lower lip with his teeth. “Minx,” he teased.
Three hours later, after he’d taught her all sorts of delightful new variations in the rules of this new game of theirs, she declared a limp surrender. She was nothing but a sated, boneless heap of damp limbs, all hint of reserve and resistance vanquished.
She didn’t even think to turn off the lights before she drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep.
CHAPTER TWELVE
COLETTE awoke when shafts of bright sunlight filtered through her closed eyelids, contrasting with the chill of her exposed shoulders. Disoriented and blinking, she moved to tug the blankets higher. They refused to move. Stuck beneath a decidedly male hip and a long, hairy leg, her paltry efforts to dislodge them accomplished nothing. Instantly awareness flooded her, along with the realization that she was as naked as a newborn babe. She lifted an arm to cover her breasts, rosy and warm despite the chill. A broad, browned hand stilled the motion.
“Don’t,” came Stephen’s sleep-roughened voice. “I want to see your skin in the sunlight.”
He was awake. Watching her. Warmth radiated from her stomach, turning the tips of her exposed breast to a hard, knotted pink.
“Lovely,” he breathed, the back of his hand rising to brush delicately against her nipple. “You look good enough to eat, do you know that?”
In the light of dawn, her impulsive decision of the night before rushed back with bruising, jarring clarity. What had she been thinking? She’d made love to him. She’d agreed to marry him. And now her heart was so full of longing and love she didn’t know how to contain it all. How would she ever survive once he realized he no longer wanted her? How could she ever live as his wife in name only, pretending she was happy so that their child didn’t feel insecure?
“Hey,” he said, jostling her out of her morose thoughts.
“Why the long face?”
Rather than reply, she leaned toward him, pressing her mouth to his. It was easier than talking.
He obliged her with a deep kiss that sent her pulse careening yet again. Sliding her over the sex-scented sheets, he tucked her up against his flesh, his warm, wide palms cupping her buttocks as he pulled her in close. It was easy to feel safe when they were kissing, when she could bury her second thoughts behind the blurring effect of desire. So she reached for the rigid length of his erection where it strained against her stomach, circling his thick circumference and slowly sliding south. Then north. Then south again.
“Do you have another condom?” she breathed against his lips.
He obliged her with startling swiftness, and this time she was the one to slide it down his eager length. She took her time, concentrating on the here and now and steeping herself in the heady power she wielded over him. He held himself still, watching her through slitted eyes, until she