Jade Star (Star Quartet 4)

“Oh,” Jules said.

“Do you know,” Saint said a few minutes later in their bedroom, “I can hear you take off each item. You’re only in your chemise now, aren’t you?”

He heard a whisper of a sound, and grinned. “Lord, now my imagination is becoming overworked. Come here, Jules.”

He was still completely dressed, but Jules didn’t hesitate. She felt an odd kind of excitement as he lightly began to touch her.

“Your nipples,” he said, his voice deep, “I can’t feel their exact color. Pale pink?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“And soft as velvet. Now, let me see if they taste pink and velvet.”

It had been too long, she thought, as his mouth caressed her. She felt the familiar stirrings deep within her, and arched upward to give herself more fully to him.

She was responding to him, he thought, pleased, and so very quickly. He let his right hand journey slowly downward, pausing to trace her ribs, feel the small contour of her navel. He sucked in his breath, wishing desperately that he could see her face at that moment. His fingers were gently probing, caressing, and she was very warm to his touch, her woman’s flesh swollen and moist. “Jules,” he said, “does that please you?”

“It pleases me so much that I’ll scream if you stop.”

“The feel of you,” he said, his fingers exploring her, “it’s almost more than this simple male mind can handle.”

“If you don’t stop a moment, husband, I shall . . . Please . . . Oh, Michael!”

She pushed his hand away, her breath coming in hoarse little gasps that made him smile.

“Now for you, arrogant man!”

With his enthusiastic cooperation, Saint was naked in minutes. He knew she was looking at him, and since he could hear her breathing, knew she was very interested. She thought him beautiful, and that pleased him inordinately.

Her hands and mouth were a torture. “You are very methodical,” he moaned when at last her fingers were weaving in the thick bush of hair at his groin.

“Oh yes,” Jules said, her fingers lightly closing around him. “And you are most appreciative.”

He nearly leapt off the bed when she took him into her mouth, her tongue teasing and light, driving him nearly beyond control.

He felt her hand pressing his chest. “No, Michael, you must do what the doctor’s very excellent assistant wants you to. It’s all for your own good, so you hold still.”

When he could stand it no longer, he grabbed her beneath her arms and hauled her over him. He felt incredible need, incredible pressure, and he wanted to thrust inside her and . . .

She guided him into her at that moment and he thought he would die from the nearly painful sensations swamping him. “Jules,” he said, “you . . . Sweetheart, I’ve got to . . .” She took him deep inside her, and he couldn’t begin to think straight now, much less talk. But as she moved over him, her hands splayed on his chest, he pressed his own palm against her belly, feeling the motion of her body as she moved over him.

“Can you feel yourself inside me?” she asked, closing her hand over his and pressing it inward against her.

He wanted to laugh at that, but couldn’t. “Very nearly,” he said, and pulled his hand loose from hers. His fingers roved downward, purposeful now, to find her.

“Dammit, I want to see you!”

Jules was nearly frantic, her body taut, her legs locked against his flanks, but she heard the anger, the sense of betrayal in his voice. She took his hand and raised it to her face. When her body exploded into pleasure, his fingers traced her open lips, felt the warmth of her cries.

She was kissing him deeply when he gained his own release. He gasped into her warm mouth, “God, I want you, Jules.”

Jules was relieved he couldn’t see the tears shimmering in her eyes. He wanted her, he’d said so. Soon, she thought, trying desperately not to sniff, he would feel more for her than just want.

She smiled down at his face. He was lying quietly now, still deep inside her, his breathing even and slow.

Very gently she eased off him and rose. She thought he was asleep, and started when he said in a deep, satisfied voice, “I feel like I really am a saint at this moment. Nearly dead and gone to heaven. Lord, woman, you’ve worn me to the bone.”

She dashed her hand across her eyes and smiled. “I will let you rest awhile now, husband. Then we will see about this bone business.”