Candice Hern (23 page)

* * *

She came awake slowly to the feel of his lips on her neck. It felt nice. So soft. So warm. And suddenly she realized what was happening and came fully awake with a jolt. "Oh!"

He'd come to her. Finally.

"It's me, Marianne." His voice was soft and low and slightly muffled as he nuzzled her.

"Yes." She turned her head toward him, but could not see a thing in the dark. She reached behind her and touched his head as he nibbled her neck. His hair was thick and soft and she ran her fingers through it while he worked magic with his lips.

"Are you disappointed?" he whispered, his breath tickling her ear. "Angry?"

She had been both when he had failed to show up after several hours, even though she knew it was not his fault. She had cursed Adam for his damned card game when she'd finally given up and crawled into bed. But none of that mattered now. He was here, and oh, God, he was loving her and he felt so good.

"No," she replied. "I am not disappointed."

"Oh, thank God," he muttered against her neck. "Thank God."

She gave a little groan as his lips trailed up to her ear, and she arched her neck to give him better access. And it occurred to her that she was not at all nervous. She was letting it happen, and it was lovely.

Adam had been right. All she had to do was relax in order to enjoy it. Having been sound asleep, she'd had no time to become anxious or nervous. Instead, she felt languid and sensuous and ... sexual. She had never felt more relaxed. She was almost glad it had taken him so long to show up that she had fallen asleep.

His lips planted butterfly-soft kisses on her jaw and cheek, and she turned her head so she could reach his mouth with hers. With a quick movement, he flipped her over to face him. It was then she realized he was naked. Dear God. David had never been completely naked with her. He had always worn a nightshirt.

She reached out a hand to touch him.

"Marianne. My love." He gave a little growl, and covered her mouth with his.

It was nothing like his other kisses. He'd saved the best for now, for the loving. His lips moved against hers, tasting, teasing, exploring. He ran his tongue along the seam of her lips, and she parted them to let him in. A new kind of pleasure unfolded inside her as he drew her tongue deeper into his mouth, caressing it with his own.

He stroked her hair with one hand, twining its length around his fingers. She put her arms around him, loving the feel of skin and muscle, pulling him closer. And suddenly the kiss became torrid and urgent, almost painful in its soul-searing intensity. Ripples of sensation spiraled through her. And she wanted more.

He moved one hand to her waist and slid it up the silk of her gown to her rib cage until he cupped her breast. His thumb circled her nipple and her whole body shuddered at his touch. His mouth left hers and trailed moist kisses down her chin and throat and neck and onto the bodice of her nightgown. He kissed her right through the silk, dipping lower and lower. And then he took her breast into his mouth.

Marianne cried out and arched into his mouth. Dear God. They had not even completed the act yet, and she had already felt more powerful sensations than she'd ever felt with David. But David had never kissed her like this.

"I want all of you," he whispered. "All of you."

He reached down and grabbed the hem of her nightgown and raised it — to her thighs, to her hips, to her waist, and over her breasts. Finally, she lifted her arms and he stripped it away. And she was naked. She had never been completely naked with a man. It felt ... exciting.

He explored her in the darkness with his hands, soft fingers grazing and kindling little erotic fires here, there, and everywhere. It was as if he was trying to see her with his hands, to discover through his touch how her body looked. She was somehow emboldened to do the same. She ran her hands over his chest, intrigued by the crisp hair that covered it. She discovered smooth places on his sides and along his rib cage, places without hair where the skin was soft as a baby's.

She wished it were not so dark, for she would like to see him, to see the play of skin and hair and firm muscle. But the closed bed-curtains created an inky darkness that was impenetrable.

She pressed her lips to his chest, inhaling the musky masculine scent of him, with just a hint of bay rum. His chest hair tickled her nose. She flicked her tongue over his nipples, eliciting a gasp, while her hands explored the taut muscles around them. Her hands skimmed lower, following a line of hair down his abdomen to his navel, where the hair grew thicker again. Her hand moved lower still, and he groaned.

He put his arms around her and pulled her close. "My love," he whispered, and kissed her again.

The combination of his mouth on hers while her naked breasts pressed to his bare chest was the most extraordinary feeling. Her smooth skin against the crisp hair of his chest — feminine against masculine, hard against soft — was a potent and provocative sensation. She rubbed against him like a cat and kneaded his back and shoulders with restless desire.

If this was all there was, it would be enough. She had already experienced more pleasure than she'd ever known. Her body had come alive as never before. If there was nothing more, she would be satisfied.

But she wanted more. She wanted it all.

He turned her onto her back and moved on top of her. The end was near, then. The unbelievably wonderful preliminaries were almost over and the main act was about to begin.

But she was wrong.

* * *

He kissed her again, long and hard, while he stroked first one perfect breast, then the other. She arched up into his hand, and he felt her need. His mouth left hers, and marking the trail with his tongue, he made his way to the soft upper curve of her breast, then lower. Finally, inevitably, he took the peaked nipple into his mouth and curled his tongue around it. Her cry of pleasure was one of the sweetest things he'd ever heard. This woman who had never known physical pleasure was writhing with it. He had done this for her, and he was glad.

He circled her nipple with his tongue, then explored the soft underside of her breast. He paid equal homage to her other breast, then slithered down her body as he trailed kisses along her abdomen and belly.

He paused to consider if he should go farther. She might be shocked. But she had said she wanted to experience the full pleasure of physical intimacy. Just once. Since there could only be this once, he would give it all to her.

But not yet. Slowly.

He moved over her and kissed her again. He ravished her mouth with wild, hungry kisses while his hand stroked the fine curve of her hip and her long, elegant thigh. Distracting her with his tongue, he slowly stroked his hand up her inner thigh until he cupped the soft mound of her sex. He felt her tense, but he continued kissing her and let his hand rest on her for a few moments. Then, very slowly, his fingers parted her and began to stroke the intimate flesh of her sex. He swallowed her gasp and continued to touch her. She was already damp with desire when he pushed a finger inside her.

She groaned and ripped her mouth from his. "Oh, my God!" she cried. "Oh, yes."

He pulled her mouth back to his and pleasured it with his tongue while he worked his finger inside her. He removed it at last and gently rubbed the tip of his damp finger against the one spot he knew would give her the most pleasure. She moaned into his mouth, and he continued to touch her. She lifted her hips and opened herself to him. She was ready.

He broke the kiss and made his way again down her body, kissing, licking, and nipping every inch of her while his finger continued its concentrated motion. He kissed her belly, then down and down until his mouth replaced his finger and his tongue pleasured her.

She uttered an almost painful cry, and then, "What are you doing? Oh, my God, what are you doing?"

Adam lifted his head, replacing his tongue with his finger once again. "I am pleasuring you, my love."

When he brought his mouth back down on her, she thought she would die. She had never felt anything like this in her life. The sensation was so intense it was almost unbearable. Everything was focused on that one spot, the place she had never dreamed was meant to be touched by a man's lips and tongue. It was shocking but she did not care. She couldn't think. She could only feel. Every muscle tensed as she arched and stretched and rocked her hips in immodest response to the caress of his tongue. The pleasure increased – the tension rose higher and higher – until there was a steady roaring in her ears and she thought she was going to explode.

And suddenly, she did. An explosion of pure sensation shook her body and she cried out in astonishment. She soared on a wave of intense pleasure as the explosion's ripples shimmered over every inch of her body.

Adam savored the incredible shudder of her climax. Her first, he suspected. No other man had given her this. It thrilled him to know that he was the first, and it sent a great surge of passion rolling through him. Before her trembling had subsided, he moved on top of her, spreading her legs with his knees. He pressed his erection against the still-pulsing entrance to her sex. She lifted her hips to receive him, and with one long stroke, he was inside her.

She uttered a low moan that ended in a contented sigh as he entered her. After he allowed her body to adjust, relax, and accept him completely, he stilled. A profound sense of rightness, of home, enveloped him. He was almost overcome with the poignancy of the moment — the first time inside her body, finally, and the last time.

Her hips shifted beneath him. "Don't stop," she said. "Love me. Please, love me."

He placed his mouth beside her ear. "I am loving you. I will always love you, Marianne." He could no longer deny it. Now that she was in his arms, he knew he loved her. He always had, just as Rochdale claimed.

He began to move inside her, thrusting and withdrawing slowly at first. He wanted to bring her to climax again if he could, deliberately keeping his own at bay in exquisite torment. So he took his time and brought her through several stages of arousal. She lifted her legs to draw him in more deeply. She entwined her body elaborately with his, putting every possible inch in hungry contact with him.

When he felt the tension build in her again, and her moans became quick little pants, he increased the rhythm, driving harder and harder until he felt her muscles close around him like a fist. Only when he felt her stiffen, and then buck and twist, and then press her face against his shoulder to muffle her scream, did he finally allow himself to finish. He buried his face in her sweet hair and drove his love into her.

Her body continued to tremble with reverberations of new sensations that had shaken her to the core, releasing ecstasy from every pore. Even the roots of her hair tingled.

Marianne could not believe what had just happened. Twice he had brought her body to that incredible peak and taken her over the edge. This was what Penelope had meant. Now she understood. And dear God, it was amazing.

How she wished she could see him, could look in his eyes and see if there was a wonder in them such as she felt must be in hers.

His weight was heavy on her, but it was somehow pleasant. And inside, where he was still joined to her, she could feel a pulsing as her body recovered from the powerful climaxes that had rocked it. And after a moment, as her mind and body calmed, an intense lethargy swept over her.

"Marianne, my love."

He kissed her so tenderly it almost made her weep. She wondered why his kisses had been so rough before, and how she could possibly have felt so little when she was now awash in more feelings than she could name.

He moved off her, tucked her close to his side, and pulled the bedcovers up over them. She nestled her head against his shoulder and he wrapped an arm around her. Marianne could not recall ever feeling so contented.

It had been the most gloriously wonderful night of her life.

It was an extraordinary thing he'd given her. He would never know how extraordinary. Whatever happened after tonight, she would always remember him as the man who taught her about physical pleasure, the man who gave her something she'd never experienced before.

And Adam was right. She was not cold or unresponsive. She was sexually alive for the first time.

She wished she could explain how she felt to the man beside her, but she was so drowsy. She would tell him later. Now, she just wanted to sleep and could manage only a few words, spoken from the heart.

"Thank you, Julian."

Thank you, Julian
.

The words shook Adam to the marrow of his bones. She had thought he was Sherwood. He'd been so thrilled that he'd given her all that pleasure, that he'd aroused such sweet cries of passion from her, and she had not even known it was him.

Hell and damnation.

Adam cursed the darkness for this unbelievable situation, not sure whether to laugh or cry at the absurdity of it.

She hadn't recognized him in the dark. But he had not pretended to be Sherwood. Devil take it, he had told her it was him, and been thrilled beyond description when she'd said she was not disappointed. A large measure of the joy he'd experienced in making love to her had been the knowledge that she accepted
him
, welcomed
him
, desired
him
.

And all along, she'd thought he was someone else. "It's me," he'd said, but she'd believed he was Sherwood.

Of course, she had been expecting his bloody lordship. She would never have expected Adam to creep naked into her bed. And the damned darkness meant she could not see him. The few words he'd spoken to her had been whispered, so she had not recognized his voice. All her sighs and moans and cries of pleasure had been for Sherwood. Every generous offering of her lush body, every shuddering response, had been for Sherwood.

Damn, damn, damn.

He gazed down at her head nestled against his shoulder. She was dead asleep, drained by the passion of their lovemaking.