‘I did,’ she admitted.
‘You gave yourself a Cinderella slipper?’
She shifted in his arms. ‘It’s not that,’ she protested—a little too strongly, he thought. ‘It’s a reminder that one day I’ll wear something other than snow boots.’
He laughed softly, not believing her for a minute as he rasped his stubble lightly across the tender spot at the base of her neck. She laughed too—in between begging him for mercy, but he was touched by what she’d told him. ‘Some day your prince will come,’ he promised as he dropped more kisses on her neck and shoulders.
What if he’d already come—and she couldn’t have him? Lucy thought, starting nervously as Mac cupped her breasts. He had just reminded her that she was inexperienced—far more inexperienced than he had obviously imagined. Mac thought because her breasts were full and silky, along the lines magazines suggested were made to be admired, fondled and adored, she was used to this. If only he knew…
She cried out softly as he abraded the tips of her nipples very lightly with his thumbnails, wondering how she was supposed to remain silent and composed while he was working this sort of magic on her. Her nipples had never been so sensitive, her breasts so full. She was still getting used to the fact that such a level of arousal was even possible—or that such freedom to express how she was feeling inside
was possible. She guessed it was because Mac had no inhibitions and he had made her strong—at least for tonight.
Some day her prince would come? He had. But, unfortunately, unlike her dream, he wouldn’t stay—and she had to be content with that.
Content while longing was a new concept. Mac had moved from cupping her breasts to mapping the swell of her belly and now her thighs. The longing was rapidly turning into lust. She had grown warm and sleek in the perfumed water and braver than she could ever have imagined. Sinking lower in the water, she allowed her legs to part in idle invitation—so hungry for him she had no inhibitions left. Mac needed no encouragement—he was already there. Holding her in place with one firm hand, he slipped the other hand between her legs. ‘What do you want, Lucy?’ he murmured wickedly.
‘I want you to touch me,’ she whispered back.
She could feel him smiling against her shoulder as he interpreted that request with such an advanced skill and understanding of her needs it outstripped anything she had imagined possible. She was aware of nothing outside the sensation building inside her. Her whole mind was focused on it, her whole being depended on it. ‘Oh, yes,’ she murmured, moving against his hand, feeling the muscles in his chest bunching against her back. ‘Don’t stop…don’t ever stop.’
With a gasp of surprise she came apart in his arms while Mac held her close. She had never known such release, such a fire-burst of sensation. Mac had woken an unsuspected appetite. She arched her body so he had to clasp her breasts and groaned when he played with her nipples and felt them tighten beneath his touch.
Lucy sighed and sought his lips, breathing whimpers of satisfaction into his mouth as he went on caressing her. He loved the sounds that she made—he loved the taste of her—and the scent of Lucy was like a field of wildflowers salted with fresh alpine air and when that was mingled with sultry bath oil it produced something unique and seductive.
His hunger to please her was growing. His hands embraced her buttocks, which felt so soft and warm and yielding beneath the warm foam. He knew just how to tease her until she clung to him, sighing in need. She was perfection. She exceeded every expectation he’d ever had for a woman. He had never thought to find a partner so candid in her needs or so sensual—certainly not one as faultless and innocent as Lucy. As far as he was concerned, she was woman.
As she timidly edged one leg over his he touched her again. Crying his name eagerly, she grabbed hold of him, but he lifted his hand away. ‘Wait…’ he whispered in her ear, loving the way she quivered just from hearing the suggestions he made. ‘You mustn’t be so impatient. You’ll get it all…Everything you want…’ And he knew exactly what that was.
The water rose and fell around them to the rhythm of his hand. Lucy’s lips parted to drag in air as she gazed at him in wonder. Her beautiful eyes had darkened almost to black, and this time he was going to hold that gaze and watch her pleasure unfold. She tried everything she knew to hold off, but soon gave way, bucking violently and crying out wildly in abandon as pleasure took her over. The motion of her body stirred the water and it cascaded to the floor, but neither of them realised until she quietened and they looked around—and when they saw the devastation they laughed like naughty children.
He wondered in that moment if he had ever felt closer to any woman. Having never felt close to any woman, this was quite a revelation to him. ‘I hope you’ve got enough towels in store to cope with a flood?’ he said, acting stern.
‘How about I use your robe,’ she suggested cheekily.
‘Before you do that you’d better get out of the tub.’ Water fell away from his naked body as he stood. Stepping out of the tub, he reached for a towel and beckoned to Lucy. It made him smile to see she was still a little shy to show him her beautiful ripe body, but he had her swathed in the warm towel before she had chance to be embarrassed. Swinging her into his arms, he carried her into the bedroom.
‘What now?’ she said, a new confidence in her eyes as she smiled up at him.
‘Whatever you’re thinking—double the amount of pleasure involved.’
His kisses in the bedroom were leading one place only, but even as his hands cupped her buttocks, tilting her, so that the very place she needed his attention was pressed up hard against his erection, he was raging against the fact that in spite of all the power he wielded there was one thing he couldn’t change: this first time with Lucy would also be the last. He’d almost decided to stop when she pressed her tiny hands against his chest. ‘I can hear your heart beating,’ she said, and, falling silent, she rested her face where her hands had been.
He had meant to hold her away, but somehow his hand got tangled in her hair, and then the fever was on them both and their hands were everywhere, while her warm breath bathed his naked body. ‘This isn’t right,’ he murmured, his thoughts on the Isla de Sinnebar and duty—
‘Do we have to decide that now?’ she whispered.
Cupping her face in his hands, he used his thumbs to keep her exactly where he wanted as he kissed her again, and this time deeply.
Mac was a lithe, dark prince of the night. She felt so strong when he ran his fingertips over her; he’d made her strong. She’d waited for this moment all her life, but had never expected it to come, Lucy realised as Mac protected them both. She stared at his arms, pinned like steel girders either side of her shoulders, and the hard-muscled torso decorated with a single tattoo that matched the emblem on his ring. ‘I know you’d never hurt me.’
‘You know me so well, already?’ he demanded softly.
‘No,’ she said honestly, ‘but I know I can trust you.’
‘Then know this too—I would never hurt you.’
‘I’m only frightened I’ll disappoint you—I’ve not had much experience—’