Her Christmas Pleasure (The Merry Widows 2)

He sucked in a harsh breath as he studied her. She lifted her head and opened her eyes so she could watch him watch her. Her breasts were in perfect alignment for his mouth since she still hovered above him. Tightening her legs on either side of his hips, she nudged forward and

waited with breathless anticipation his mouth drew nearer to her tight nipple.

More exquisite torture as he nuzzled her breasts with his face, rubbing his stubble-roughened cheeks on her sensitive skin. For a man who’d nearly swallowed her whole with his earlier urgent kisses, he’d gained an enormous amount of restraint. He was driving her absolutely mad with his teasing touches. She wanted more.

So much more.

Another gasp escaped her when he licked a delicate path along the valley of skin between her breasts. Wet and hot, his tongue curved the underside of each breast, then circled the pale pink of her areola. She slid her hands into his hair, clutching his head closer as he drew her into his mouth and sucked. His tongue lashed her taut flesh, and he drew her deep until she couldn’t do anything but cry out incoherently. Lost to the touch of his mouth and his wandering hands…

“I am dreaming,” he murmured against her flesh, dropping kisses in between his words. “You’re not really here in my arms, are you?”

“I am.” She rested her cheek atop his head. His hair tickled her skin. She smiled and squeezed him close. “Take me to bed, Damien.”

He shifted, and she lifted her head so they could stare at each other. They remained silent. She waited for him to say something, anything. When he remained quiet, panic flooded her.

If he refused her and sent her back to her bedchamber, she didn’t know what she might do. Fall apart? Beg him to take her? Throw herself at his feet, grasp hold of his legs and never let go?

All options were far too humiliating to contemplate, let alone imagine actually resorting to.

“Are you sure, Celia?” He stiffened, as if prepared for the blow.

She shook her head and laughed softly. They were certainly a pair, the both of them. She was still amazed it had taken her this long to realize it.

“Why are you laughing?” He sounded as if he might be frightfully angry. She reached for him, pressed a smacking kiss to his lips as she clasped his face in her hands. “Oh, I’m being ridiculous, aren’t I…?”

“Yes, you are.” She pressed her forehead to his, staring deep into his clear blue eyes. She could easily drown in them. They were so deep and beautiful. “And yes, Damien, I am sure.”

He kissed her gently. Then he shocked her by gathering her in his arms and springing from the chair, standing to his full height. She had no choice but to cling to him for fear she’d slip from his grip and drop to the floor.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured close to her ear, striding toward the bed. “I’ll never let you go.”

Her heart grew at the promise.

Sweeter words were never spoken.

Chapter Six

Damien removed Celia’s half-fallen night rail from her body with shaking fingers, tearing it off with an impatience he would normally never demonstrate with a lady. With previous indulgences, he had always been in complete and utter control. Not only did he want to savor the act with Celia, but he also wanted to ensure her pleasure as well. Hasty, quick fumblings in bed weren’t his style.

Celia was destroying any semblance of control he had left. Having her near and her body completely revealed for his perusal was enough to shatter his sensibilities. He was filled with the uncontrollable urge to take her. Master her with his body, show her pleasure unlike any she’d ever experienced before.

Christ. She made him feel like an arrogant, crazed man, full of fire and ready to unleash upon her in a blaze of passion.

He chuckled. She went from making him a melancholy arse to a whimsical fool. She held so much power over him and didn’t have a clue.

“Damien.” Her soft voice brought him back. Reminded him he had her in his bed, the coverlet drawn back and her lithe body sprawled across the cool, pale sheets. She was nearly as pale as the fabric she lay on. Creamy, long limbs beckoned, the rosy flush of passion darkening her skin and her pert nipples. Her long brown hair was wound into a thick braid his fingers itched to take apart.

So he did just that. Reaching for the end of the braid, he untied the ribbon and slowly worked her hair free of its confines. It spread long and wavy across his pillow, demanding he run his fingers through its silky softness and learn its texture. She undulated under his care, her lids lowering to half-mast as he continued to stroke her; she purred like a cat.

“Join me, Damien,” she encouraged in a throaty, seductive voice, and reached for him.

Damnation. He’d never heard her sound like that before.

Deciding it best he do as she bid, he hurriedly removed his clothes, jerked them off with a ruthlessness that surely left its mark. Indeed, there was the tear of fabric, the pop of a loosened button landing on the floor, but he hadn’t a care. Not when he had the woman he wanted more than any other lying naked in his bed.

He wasn’t that much of a fool to ignore her commands.

Damien slipped into the bed, drawing the coverlet over their chilled skin. The bed was on the far side of the room, across from the fireplace, and the dimming fire took with it its heat.