Rafe’s laughing groan rumbled through his chest, rumbled through her, but she regretted her answer when the next moment found her alone. But he had left her only to arrange their discarded clothing into a makeshift bed, and he gently tugged her down onto it. He leaned over her, face and hair silhouetted against the willows: another image to remember.
He lowered his head and once more she surrendered to his hot mouth and his promise to kiss her everywhere. His slow, burning kisses reached her breasts, his hair feathering over her skin; his lips trapped one nipple, that his teeth and tongue could tease it. Sensation tore through her, possessing her body so she arched and moaned and yanked at his hair. But, oh thank heaven, nothing stopped those lips of his from sliding onward, branding an inexorable trail down her writhing body.
Then she lost her grip on his hair, and lifted her head to watch, amazed, as he parted her legs with those implacable hands and settled between them. Air danced up her inner thighs to the desperately sweet pulse at her core. He met her astonished gaze, mischief and desire sparkling in those intent brandy eyes. Those unforgettable eyes did not leave hers, not for a single throb of her wayward pulse, as he pressed his hot, merciless mouth to her quim.
Intense pleasure coiled through her, making her cry out, and she caught the wicked gleam of triumph in his gaze before she collapsed back onto the ground. Her dazzled eyes blinked at the streaks of blue sky peeping through the green willows, her aroused skin sensing every playful current of air. Thea gripped the grass, as Rafe’s commanding hands pinned her hips to the ground and his talented mouth teased and tasted and tormented her. Breathing eluded her; all she had were moans, and each one he answered with a growl. Blades of grass came away in her fingers, and she fumbled for something to grip, or else she would fly away, borne away by the kisses clamoring under her skin, those kisses that pulsed in her blood and supplanted her flesh, a million kisses thronging and rioting under his mouth, threatening to break free.
Then something he did triggered their release. Bliss rippled over her, from her toes to her hair, as those million riotous kisses burst out of her, exploding into the air. She imagined them soaring through the sky, scattering in the breeze, and raining down on the world below. Still Rafe anchored her, so she did not fly away too, but remained with him, where she belonged, pulsing with bliss and hope and love.
Dazzled, she opened her eyes and met his. His expression was one of awe, and she lifted her languid fingers to touch that expression.
“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he whispered hoarsely.
“No, you are,” she said, and he grinned.
Her body was molten, but she did not need to move, for he stretched out beside her and pulled her against him, his generous, assured hands roaming absently over her newly sensitive skin. She spread her fingers over the hairs of his chest, and wondered how it had happened, that his body had become hers too.
“Well?” he murmured. “Better than syllabub?”
“Um. Why choose?”
With a groan of laughter, Rafe collapsed onto his back, bearing her with him. She stretched to kiss to his lips: How marvelous that she could do that so easily now. That somehow, in giving her pleasure, he had given her himself.
And yet, not.
Lifting her head, Thea studied Rafe’s face. His eyes were closed. The thick, dark lashes quivered against his skin, and his jaw was tense. His pulse hammered in his throat, under the last tapering lines of his scars. She understood his tension, now.
So she trailed her hand over his broad chest, the ridge of his ribcage, the muscled flat of his belly, and—
With a slap of his hand over hers, he halted her advance. His eyes were uncommonly dark, his mouth tight.
“I thought we were doing this together,” she complained.
“You don’t even know what ‘this’ is.”
“I know enough. I know that I want it. That I want more of you. All of you.”
Tautness hummed through him. “You want to make love with me? Now?”
“Yes. I want it all.”
She wanted him. All of him, no holding back. This was her only chance, and such chances did not come traipsing along every day; she must seize them when she could.
Nothing lasted: She could not pick the flowers or net the butterflies or hold onto this man, or settle in his house and call it her home.
But she could have this—one perfect afternoon with the most wonderful man she had ever known.
The rules demanded that she protect her virtue, but her virtue had never protected her; she cared nothing for it now. She wanted to feel the sun on her face and the grass beneath her feet and she wanted—no, she longed to know how it felt to be engulfed by him.