“Be patient.” He kissed her throat, and then his mouth moved lower to the full swell of her breasts, now pushing hard against the supportive fabric of her bra. His fingers brushed against the thrusting tip, and liquid heat pooled deep in her pelvis. For a moment she wondered whether his patience and control signified a lack of desire, but then she saw the dangerous glitter in his eyes and knew he was balanced on the edge, just as she was.
And then he was kissing her again, and she felt him remove her bra, leaving her breasts full and exposed.
“With a body like yours it’s a sin to wear clothes— ever.”
Her hips shifted against the softness of his sheets, her body arched, and still he explored, tasted, teased until she was sobbing his name, her fingers digging hard into the powerful muscles of his shoulders.
“Ryan—”
“Not yet.” But his hand finally moved between her thighs, lingered there, stroked through the sheer fabric of her panties and then slid inside, parting delicate folds until she was gasping. When she didn’t think she could stand it any longer, he stripped off the last of her underwear, and his fingers explored her with slow, skillful strokes and then slid deep, touching her in a way that was new to her until sensation built with suffocating intensity. She felt the first flutters of her body, but instead of finishing what he’d started, he moved down her body, kissing her stomach and lower until he was settled between her thighs.
Desperation gave way to acute shyness. This was something she’d never done with Neil, and she tried to wriggle away, but Ryan held her firmly, urging her to relax, to just breathe, to trust him, and then she felt the silky stroke of his tongue and the warmth of his breath against exposed, slippery flesh. He held her there, trapped and helpless, while he explored and exposed all of her body’s secrets, until she could no longer keep still. Finally, when she was sobbing and desperate, she felt him pause and reach for something from the nightstand and then he shifted over her, hard and heavy.
“Look at me.” His soft command penetrated her clouded brain, and she opened her eyes, met the burning intensity of his and then moaned as she felt him enter her with a series of slow, deliberate thrusts. She felt her body yield to the invasion of his, felt her muscles ripple against the swollen thickness and moaned his name.
“Am I hurting you?”
She was drowning in pleasure. “No! I just— I need—”
“I know what you need.” His voice thickened, he lowered his mouth to hers and rocked into her, deeper, harder, until each stroke, each driving relentless thrust propelled her closer to ecstasy.
Inhibition fled. Her only fear was that he might stop, that he might once again delay the pleasure. But not this time. Instead, he shifted the angle so that the combination of masculine thrust and delicious friction finally opened the gate to that elusive peak.
Pleasure rushed at her like a wave, slamming into her, the intensity of her climax catching her by surprise. She heard him groan her name, and then he was kissing her, stealing every sob, every cry with his mouth as the ripples of her body tipped him into his own shuddering release.
Afterward she lay, eyes closed, shaken by the depth of her own feelings. He gathered her close, soothing her with gentle hands and soft words, and then she was dimly aware of him leaving the bed. In the distance she heard the sound of water coming from the bathroom, and then he returned to the bedroom, scooped her boneless, pliant body easily into his arms and carried her through to the steamy, scented heaven.
“I never take baths, just showers.” She slid into the water with a groan. “I might drown. I need a life jacket.”
“You’re not going to drown.”
She heard the smile in his voice and opened her eyes. Confronted by the hard planes of his body, her gaze lingered on the dip and swell of muscle, the strength of those shoulders, the board-flat abdomen and the hair-roughened length of his thighs.
Catching her looking at him, he raised one eyebrow questioningly, as unselfconscious as she was anxious and unsure.
“You cannot possibly be shy after what we just did.” His voice was deep pitched, roughened by desire, and she discovered that far from being sated, it was as if her body had woken from a deep sleep.
“Maybe. You could turn the lights off if you like.”
“Honey, your body is so perfect anything less than a spotlight is a waste.” He slid into the water next to her, and she silenced the voice that questioned why he’d installed a tub big enough for two.
Her hair hung damp and curling in the steam, the ends heavy and wet as they clung to her neck. He pushed it aside and brought his mouth down on hers.
“You’re beautiful.”
She straddled him, her skin sliding against his, the warmth of the water mingling with the heat of his skin. She pressed her mouth to the rough texture of his jaw, felt the rhythm of his breathing change as her hands moved down his body.
By the time morning came they’d done everything except sleep.
They lay, wrapped up in each other, watching dawn break over an ocean as smooth and still as glass.
“I’ve never had a date like this one.” Her voice broke the sleepy silence, and she felt him stir and tighten his grip.
“It’s good to try new things.” His voice was husky, and he shifted her under him and looked down at her through lowered lids. “Still think there’s something wrong with you?”
“No.” She slid her arms around his neck. “You obviously have special powers.”