As she arched her spine, his lips kept on plying her, dredging the fin
al spasms of bliss from her shaking body.
In the hushed aftermath, he placed a final tender kiss on her stomach, then stretched out beside her again and held her while the last tremors subsided.
Her face buried against the fire-warmed skin of his shoulder, Maura lay weak and dazed, panting harshly, listening to her still-pounding heart. She was no longer cold in the least. In truth, she felt gloriously overheated, boneless with sensation.
Beaufort … Ash … had given her incredible pleasure, the kind she had only dreamed of before. He was a splendid lover, just as he’d claimed. He was everything she’d always fantasized about and more.
“Is it always like this?” she whispered hoarsely.
“Like what?”
She raised her gaze to his. “So … intense.”
His green eyes were thoughtful and warm. “No. Such intensity is actually rather rare.”
Maura hesitated to reply. She had only slowly begun recovering her senses, yet she knew their act of lovemaking was not complete. Ash had felt none of the shattering pleasure he had given her, she realized. He still was full and swollen; she could feel the hard ridge of his manhood against her stomach.
When she tilted her hips tentatively, shifting toward him, he winced as if in pain.
“Don’t …” he warned.
“Don’t what?”
“Arouse me any further.”
“Why not?”
“Because I might explode.”
Her eyes widening with uncertainty, she brought her hand up to splay against his bare chest. “What if … I wanted to arouse you? The way you did me?”
He exhaled a slow breath, but he didn’t reject her request outright. Nor did he stop her when she traced a tentative path down his chest to his loins, or when she let her fingers cover the thick pulsing heat of him. The feel of that hard arousal caused her stomach to contract—and his as well, she could tell.
His jaw tense, he kept his gaze locked with hers. His stillness spoke of rigid control when she began to caress him the way he had done her, with slow, rhythmic touches.
She relished touching him, Maura realized, watching his handsome face. His entire body vibrated with strength and life, while his skin was hot enough to scorch.
Evidently he was not happy with her efforts, however, for he soon brushed her fingers away.
“Was I doing it badly?” Maura asked in a small voice.
His short laugh held pain and humor both. “No, not at all, sweetheart. I just can’t bear your torment any longer. Give me a moment,” he added more harshly as he closed his own fingers around his swollen shaft.
In several sharp strokes, he brought himself to release. He shut his eyes momentarily, grimacing as his body shuddered, then went still.
Realizing he had spilled his seed into his hand, Maura felt a vague stab of disappointment. She had wanted to be the one to pleasure him. But perhaps he preferred to retain control of a seduction and didn’t like ceding too much power to her.
It was an intriguing question, Maura thought as he eased his body back from hers.
She lay there feeling uncertain when he rose and went to the tub to wash away the evidence of their passion. Seeing his superb body bronzed by firelight, she felt her breath catch again, but she kept quiet as he returned to the blanket.
When he lay down beside her again and gathered her in his arms, she tensed with shyness, then made herself relax. After the intimacies that had just passed between them, it was foolish to feel bashful around him.
He might have been thinking along similar lines, judging by his next remark:
“This blanket is comfortable enough for now, but when we sleep, I propose we share the bed.”