The Obsessions of Lord Godfrey - Stephanie Laurens Page 0,78
This man, something in her chanted. This man.
His chest swelled against her breasts as he drew in another, this time shaky breath and, his eyes locked with hers, asked, “Is that what you want?”
She didn’t have to think. She pushed her hands over his shoulders, wound her arms about his neck, stretched up, and kissed him again—this time with all the pent-up longing in her soul. “Yes,” she breathed when she drew back. She raised her eyes to meet his. “Yes,” she affirmed, “I want you. For tonight and for however many nights you and Fate allow me.”
The tension that had held him eased as uncertainty fled; for once, she could read that clearly in his face. His eyes hawk bright, he returned, “Fate will no doubt have her say, but for me, that means forever.”
“Forever,” she agreed.
He smiled, the edge passion had lent his features still evident. “For us, forever starts tonight.”
She felt her lips irrepressibly lift and pressed closer as he bent his head.
Their next kiss sent flames dancing across her skin as their passions, unleashed, roared to unrestrained life.
Despite that, he was, indeed, the master she’d imagined him to be; he refused to rush, even when, driven by an urgency she could barely comprehend, she tugged and insisted.
He soothed and treated her to another caress, then another even more evocative, until her head spun and her wits careened so wildly she lost touch with them entirely, even while her senses danced.
Waltzed to a tune he orchestrated.
Passion rose and fell, wave after wave, building and steadily rising higher and higher in a tide that swept all modesty and hesitations aside.
Desire swelled to a tumult in her blood, compelling and insistent.
Between them, they stripped off her clothes, then his.
And no matter what he thought, he was an artwork in her eyes; the long, sculpted muscles of his back, buttocks, and thighs formed a line she could gaze at for hours.
Not that she caught more than a glimpse, and when he turned back to her, all capacity for thought fled.
Then he lay beside her, and she couldn’t resist setting her hands to the naked planes of his chest and exploring.
He allowed it, but that was only the first minor act in a glory of mutual adventuring as they learned and explored each other’s bodies, each other’s reactions, and she discovered another level of sensation and feeling—uncovered another plane of tenderness, devotion, and reverence to this, to the moment, to the togetherness it wrought.
And through it all, her need only swelled.
By the time he moved over her, she was aching with that need, so empty and yearning she could barely wait for him to join with her and complete her.
Complete them; when he thrust in and pain briefly flared and she froze, with his muscles unforgivingly locked, he held steady above her.
Until she exhaled, then tentatively moved. The sensations were so much more than she’d imagined, so evocative, so truly intimate. From beneath her lashes, she met his eyes, then she smiled, tightened her arms around him, and whispered, “Come on.”
He exhaled in a rush, then filled his lungs and complied and taught her what she’d never thought she would learn. He showed her the pathways of pleasure.
The end, when it rolled over them, shattered their senses and filled their minds with the blinding brilliance of searingly intense sensation. To her, it felt as if the power released was so great, it fundamentally altered the bedrock of her being.
The sensation crested and broke, leaving glory spreading through them, warmth and lingering pleasure diffusing beneath their skins, and in her mind, it was as if a bell tolled.
In recognition of a new state—a new life?
Exhausted, he slumped upon her; she rather liked feeling his weight draped protectively over her. But then he lifted and disengaged and rolled to lie on his back by her side. Unable to stop smiling, she turned, snuggled closer, and settled her head on his shoulder. He softly grunted and draped an arm around her, and she slid her leg over his.
Wrapped in each other, they surrendered to oblivion.
Ellie came to consciousness slowly, waking with a languidness that was simply delicious.
Then she realized where she was, that the firmness beneath her cheek was no pillow and the weight across her shoulder far heavier than the covers, and that, she decided, with a contented smile, was even more delectable.
As she lay there, no longer quite so boneless yet unwilling to stir, thoughts looped lazily through her mind.