The Princess & the Pea (37 page)

He glared, as if to give her one last chance to escape. "You know nothing of seduction."

"Teach me, Jared." Exhilarating anticipation deepened her voice. Delicious apprehension roughened her tone. "Teach me ... to drive."

Jared's gaze widened slightly, and in his eyes she saw the last traces of control swept away by a tide of passion. His lips crushed hers with an urgency that called to the very depths of her being. She opened her mouth beneath his and welcomed his tongue with her own. Her hands tunneled through his hair and she pulled him tighter, driven by a hunger she'd never known, never suspected. A hunger greeted and embraced with mindless jubilation.

She tasted of summer nights and promises kept and the richness of creation itself, and he could not slake the thirst she stoked within his body and his soul. He jerked his lips from hers and ran his mouth along her jaw to sample the sweet flavor of her flesh. Her head fell back, urging his lips down her neck, smooth and silken and scorching beneath his tongue. She moaned and clenched his shoulders with an instinctive grip, fingernails digging into flesh, causing prickles of pain and pleasure.

He swept her into his arms and she clung to him. her hands and lips exploring in a frantic search for fulfillment. He stepped around the motorcar and strode toward a corner of the stables, where the same canvas that patched the wall lay in a heap upon long-forgotten hay. They tumbled onto the makeshift bedding with an urgent disregard for comfort and a frenzied need for each other.

Her lips claimed his and they seemed to breathe as one. She found the buttons of his shirt and swiftly opened it to her inquisitive hands, her fingers running through the coarse that of hair covering broad, hard muscles, and he shuddered beneath her touch.

His hands roamed over the bodice of her blouse, fumbling with the sentinel buttons guarding her secrets from his demanding desire. In the back of his mind he noted that he would have to forbid buttons on her blouses when they were married.

"Bloody buttons," he muttered.

"Jared," she murmured against his ear in a voice rasping with need, "tear them off."

He pulled back and stared. "Tear off your buttons?"

She lay beneath him. her chest heaving. her eyes dark with newfound passion, her lips parted slightly. "Tear the silly things off."

All hesitation dissolved with the searing urgency in her voice. He grasped both sides of her blouse and ripped. Satin-covered buttons flew, and she strained toward the freedom of his touch. Roughly, he yanked the ribbons of her camisole and pushed the delicate fabric aside to reveal her breasts to his eager gaze. He quirked an eyebrow.

"No corset?"

She bit her bottom lip and blushed, a deep pink that suffused her skin from the curve of her cheek to the rosy tips of her already pebbled breasts. He cupped first one and then the other, his mouth following his hands. She gasped at the first flick of his tongue. He took a succulent offering into his mouth and she moaned, her hands clutching his head. He lavished attention on one breast and then the other, until she whimpered at his touch and quivered beneath his lips.

Pure pleasure surged through her. She had never imagined, never dreamed, never dared to hope of sensations like this. His tongue trailed between her breasts and drifted lower, ever lower, to the waistband of her skirt. Desire scorched her skin, and his touch only served to fan the flames. Each moment brought a new intensity, a greater excitement, and still it was not enough. It was as if a spring wound inside her tighter and tighter and she wondered how any mere mortal could survive such exquisite joy.

With a deft touch he unfastened the closure of her skirt, sliding it, and all she wore beneath, down the curve of her hip to tangle at her feet. She lay beneath him clad only in the wisp of a camisole that barely clung to her shoulders. He pulled her close and ran his hand up the long length of her leg to her hip. Her hands roamed across his back and her fingernails clawed at the fabric of his shirt. In one swift movement, he sat up. tore off the restrictive garment and tossed it unheeded into the shadow's.

She melted back into his embrace. His naked flesh pressed against her sensitive breasts, and she gasped at the shocking heat of his skin against hers. She twined her fingers in the silken hair at the base of his neck, pressing her lips to his. molding her body to him. His manhood pushed against her through the rough fabric of his trousers. Lost to sense and sensibility, she could only revel in the hard, strong feel of it.

His hand explored the curve of her waist, the flat of her stomach and downward, ever downward, in a relentless torture of aching desire and spiraling excitement. His fingers reached the soft curls between her thighs and hesitated. She arched against him, urging him on. Surely she would go mad if he did not continue. Surely she would go mad if he did.

He found the soft folds that guarded the key to her passion and she cried out at his unexpected touch. She was wet with wanting him and he fought the urge to tear away his remaining clothing and claim her for now and always. She quivered beneath his touch and he struggled for control. She had never been with a man and he could not take her with the hard, driving force he wanted, he needed.

She was fire and flood and as eager as he, and he did not know how long he could hold back. He drew a steadying breath and touched her with sure, gentle caresses, and she shuddered without thought or reason. He found the bud of her desire and stroked until she thrashed blindly and moaned with mindless abandon.

"Jared ..." She cried softly. "Please."

"Cece, my love." His voice was hoarse with frustration and restraint. "You are untouched and I—"

"Jared! I know full well what we are about here." Her eyes widened and she glared, the madness of unfulfilled passion in her eyes. "I am a modern woman and ... I read!"

He needed no more encouragement. Swiftly he shed his trousers and for a moment towered over her, the glow of the lantern silhouetting him in the shadow's of the stables. He was a god. He was a man. And she wanted nothing more than to know him as a woman knows a man.

He lowered himself over her and settled between her legs. His manhood throbbed between them and fear flickered for the barest moment and was swept aside by the pleasure that washed through her. Slowly he pushed against her, driving himself into her, filling her body, filling her soul.

He was immersed in flame, slick, tight and glorious. He moved with a prolonged, precise stroke until he hit the barrier of her maidenhood. He groaned and nipped the lobe of her ear. "I fear this will hurt."

Her hands gripped his shoulders. "Anything achieved too easily ..." she gasped the words."... is valued too lightly."

He nodded and thrust into her, plunging past the proof of her virginity and into heaven on earth.

She cried out at the pain, sharp and piercing. Her body throbbed around him and it was not at all what she expected, what she wanted. He moved within her, slowly at first, and she bit her lip to stifle the cry that rose within her. But he continued with long, even strokes that abruptly vanquished the pain and kindled sensations like those he'd provoked before. Instinctively she moved with him, matching his thrusts to hers, arching upward to greet him, each stroke more exquisite than the last.

With a joy born of the oblivion of sheer bliss, he plunged into her again and again, his passion fueled by an urgent ache for this woman, only this woman. She writhed beneath him and his exhilaration grew with the sure knowledge that her pleasure equaled his own.

She no longer knew her name, her country, anything but the delicious wickedness that pulsed through her blood, her body, her soul. Tension built within her with every stroke, every thrust, and she knew she would surely die from the sweet flame of ecstacy.

It was as if they were one being, no longer separate and distinct but joined in a ritual as old as time, as new as tomorrow. Together they spiraled upward higher and higher until each wondered if they glimpsed a promise of paradise or heaven itself. Finally, with one powerful thrust, he drove into her until it seemed he reached a forgotten or forbidden secret and she exploded in waves of quaking elation so intense, her body jerked with the strength of it. She screamed softly and he tensed and shuddered, and together they collapsed, drained of passion.

Fueled by love.

She rolled over, propped her chin in her hand and gazed at him. He returned her stare with a satisfied smile and a look of contentment in his eyes.

"You are an excellent teacher," she said with a soft laugh.

Idly, she trailed her fingers across his chest, over the rough that of hair, across hard, strong muscles, to lightly flick a nipple with her thumb. He gasped and grasped her hand.

His eyes were again the color of midnight, the color of passion. He growled, and the sound sent shivers of renewed desire through her blood. "If you do not desist at once, I shall have no recourse but to take you in my arms and teach you a lesson you shall not soon forget."

"A driving lesson?" Her voice accepted his challenge and invited it.

He grinned. "A driving lesson."

"Why, Jared ..." She reached forward to brush her lips across his. "What an interesting idea."

"Where are we going anyway?" Emily panted in a vain effort to keep up with her older sister.

"To the stables." Cece strode two long steps ahead, setting a brisk pace. "I wish to drive Jared's motorcar, and I might need some assistance."

"Drive his motorcar?" Emily's question hung in the air behind her. and she ignored the blatant curiosity in her sister's voice. "I thought he—"

"Never mind that now," Cece said firmly. "Just stop your dawdling."

"I don't dawdle." Indignation colored Emily's voice. "But I still do not understand why you're dragging me out here at the crack of dawn."

"Motoring is ever so much better early in the day." Cece smiled to herself. Driving did indeed seem even more delightful in the morning. Why, at this time of day, the chances of running into anyone, particularly Jared, were extremely remote. After last night the dear man was probably still asleep. This was the perfect opportunity to finally drive his automobile. Even if he found out, he couldn't possibly get too upset. Especially ... after last night. "Besides, Em, dawn was nearly an hour ago."

"Nevertheless," Emily grumbled, "it's far too early for either of us to be out and about, engaged in a ridiculous escapade that sounds very much like an 'interesting idea.' What time did you retire last night, anyway? I stopped by your room around midnight and you weren't there. Where on earth were you?"

Cece tossed a grin over her shoulder. "Studying."

"Studying what?" Emily said suspiciously.

"Driving." Cece laughed with delight. She drew a deep breath, drinking in the early morning air, fresh and exhilarating. The rising sun sparkled with a magical brilliance: the deep green of the rolling countryside seemed blessed with an artist's touch: the new-day calls of the birds rang out a sonata of sheer joy. "Isn't it a glorious day?"

"Lovely," Emily muttered.

Cece stopped and gestured at the lush landscape. "It's more than lovely, Em. It's magnificent and abundant with hopes and dreams and life." She gazed at the land around them. "Jared loves it here. It's his heritage and it pulses through his veins."