A Match Made in Mistletoe

“So did I.” A determined light entered her eyes, and she slid her hand behind his head. “Now I want to enjoy my victory.”

She stretched up to press her lips to his, and he relinquished all thought of delay. He let her draw him down until he lay over her, their bodies twining together in sublime harmony.

By the time he rolled to his side to catch a breath, he admitted that the gradual approach had served its purpose. Her response showed no hint of hesitation.

Giles rose on one elbow and set out to explore the glorious landscape of Serena’s body. Those heated, rushed, frustrating interludes that punctuated their engagement had taught him a lot about what she liked. Now he intended to uncover every last carnal secret.

He cupped one luscious breast and took the beaded peak into his mouth, sucking and nipping and flicking his tongue until she writhed against the sheets. Then he paid the other breast the same attention. She tasted sweeter than wine. Her musky scent made his head reel.

Still kissing her breast, he traced designs across the dip of her stomach, venturing lower with every incursion until he tangled in the soft curls that hid her sex. Her fingers kneaded his head in a silent plea to continue. He stroked her, relishing the heat and sumptuous wetness he discovered.

Serena bucked under his caresses and bowed up to nip his shoulder. The bite delivered a spike of arousal. He lifted his head and kissed her hard, as he explored her delicate folds, inch by satiny inch. When she parted her legs to encourage him, he made an incoherent sound of satisfaction. One gentle finger penetrated her, and she clenched in immediate welcome.

“Giles?” she murmured against his lips, and he heard her surprise at this unfamiliar caress.

“You’ll like it.”

With purposeful rhythm, he began to stroke her. Soon she was shaking and her hands formed claws on his shoulders. “That’s…wicked.”

“It is indeed,” he said, testing her with two fingers.

She was so exquisitely tight. A liquid surge rewarded him when he touched her deep inside. His thumb glanced across the hidden pearl, and she shuddered and cried out, clinging to him.

He rose above her, resting his weight on his elbows. She curled her arms around his back and stared up with glittering interest. “I want you.”

He kissed her neck, tasting her racing pulse against his tongue. “I love you.”

He’d never spoken those words to anyone before Serena. Now he couldn’t say them enough. Every time he did, her expression softened in a way that made him feel like a hero. This time, it was no different.

With all the poignant tenderness in his heart, he kissed her again and shifted between her slender thighs. “Tilt your hips toward me,” he murmured. “And bend your knees.”

Serena had always been willful and outspoken. During today’s ceremony, he’d hidden a wry smile when she promised to obey him. But now she immediately cooperated, offering herself with a lavish readiness that made his heart cramp with love.

Giles edged into her, caught between the primitive masculine urge to possess and his overwhelming need to cherish. Control won out. Just.

She shifted to take him deeper. She was trembling, and a fine sheen of sweat made her skin shine. The clasp of her body was the most glorious sensation he’d ever known. Until he tightened his hips and thrust.

She gave a ragged gasp, and her nails scored his shoulders. The sting added piquancy to the rush of exultation.

* * *

What he did hurt. Serena bit her lip, and tears sprang to her eyes.

“My darling, forgive me,” Giles muttered, pressing his hot face into her bare shoulder.

“I do,” she whispered as a marvelous fullness seeped through her. She felt every breath he took, each beat of his heart.

For a long time, they lay joined and unmoving. He raised his head and kissed her with a tenderness that went a long way toward making her forget the already fading pain. Gradually her body adjusted, so when at last he shifted, she discovered a stirring pleasure.

As he pulled back, a sigh of wonder escaped her. “Do that again.”

“I will.” Laughter warmed his deep voice. “For the next fifty years at least.”

“I mean…” She moved and delighted in the extraordinary barrage of impressions. The friction of his body. His rasping breath. The rich scent of their arousal. The warmth rising between them.

“I know what you mean, my love,” he said, and to prove it, he began to push in and out with a steady power that made her blood surge as powerfully as the tide. She thrilled to the way the muscles across his back tensed and released with every movement.

When h