Her Christmas Pleasure (The Merry Widows 2)

“I’ll be gentle.” He rested his hand on her cheek, forced her to look at him once more. It would take everything within him to hold back, but he vowed he would do so. “I won’t hurt you, Celia.”

“I know.” She turned her face into his palm, nuzzling him. “I trust you.”

Her words touched his heart. He wanted her trust and had worked hard to earn it. She was more than a woman he desired. He liked her, considered Celia a friend. A woman he admired and trusted as well.

A woman he believed would make an ideal wife. Not that he was worthy of such a title as her husband. He never believed this moment would happen, and even while he kissed her and touched her, something told him this would be his only chance. It couldn’t happen again. She was taking such a risk, indulging with him this one single night.

Perhaps, as him, she believed the stolen moment worth it.

Celia was restless and needy. Her body still hummed from the aftereffects of their climax, but she wanted more.

She needed more. Of Damien inside her, filling her, completely consuming her.

Yet it was almost as if he was overcome with restraint. Was he afraid of hurting her? Afraid to offend her delicate sensibilities?

Oh, no. She couldn’t let it happen again. She didn’t want him to be careful with her. She wanted passion. Unrestrained and out-of-control passion. Something she’d never experienced before in her life.

Determined to make it happen, she curved her hands around Damien’s thick shoulders and tugged, gaining his attention. He kissed her, his mouth gentle, and she thrust her tongue between his lips, tangling with his tongue. She deepened the kiss with ease, relishing the way he licked and nipped at her lips until he broke away from her.

His breathing was ragged, his mouth pulled down into a frown as he stared at her. “Slow down, love.” He dropped sweet kisses along the edge of her jaw.

Her heart soared at the endearment, but frustration rose as well. “I’m not made of glass, you know.”

“I know.” He continued to nibble and kiss along her jaw.

“Then don’t treat me as such.”

Lifting his head, he studied her with narrowed eyes. “You asked that I be careful.”

“No, I merely wanted to share with you my past problems.” Without revealing too much detail.

His brows lowered. “I believed it a warning that you wanted me to proceed with caution.”

Oh, dear. Had she ruined the mood? Only moments before he’d been deliciously rough and doing such things to her body she hadn’t known existed. Now he moved at a snail’s pace, cautious and not wanting to hurt her.

She appreciated his concern, but a woman couldn’t have a sampling of such passion and then have it snatched away.

“Damien.” She caressed his cheek and drew a single finger across his lower lip, lingering at the center before she dropped her hand. “I don’t want you to be too careful and cautious. I want you to behave as you did earlier. I want to feel you moving inside me.”

She took heart at his sharply indrawn breath. He was still as affected by her as she was by him, a most positive sign.

“Take me.” She lifted her hips so his erection brushed against the very heart of her. She shuddered at the contact. “Please.”

“Ah, God.” He crushed her mouth with his. The kiss was brutal. Ruthless. His hands were everywhere. He cupped her breasts in his palms, kneading and squeezing them. He brushed his thumbs across her rock-hard nipples, and she cried out against his mouth. She grew even wetter between her legs, the sensitive flesh throbbing with the beat of her racing heart. Had she ever been this aroused? Had she ever experienced such strong desire before?

No, she didn’t believe so.

Damien reached between them, and his fingers clasped around the base of his shaft. Slowly he sank his length inside her. She widened her legs and gasped at his width, how long he was. He filled her, inch by excruciatingly exquisite inch. Consumed her as she’d wished, until he pulsed deep inside her and his body completely covered hers.

He surrounded her until she could see nor feel no other. Exactly what she wanted.

What she’d wished for.

“Oh, Damien,” she whispered on a gush of air as he withdrew almost completely before surging back inside. He moved within her, in and out, over and over, slow and torturous and driving her beyond madness.

Their bodies were slick with sweat. She smoothed her hands down the expanse of his muscled back, marveling at the sleek feel of him. He trembled beneath her touch, his skin damp with his restrained exertion, and her hands settled upon his firm buttocks. She squeezed him there, pushing him closer. He groaned, the sound muffled against her tousled hair.

“You feel so good, Celia.” His voice was a guttural groan, the words ripped from the deepest recesses of his chest. “So hot.”