Devils Bride (Cynster 1)

She took him in and held him, took his breath, then gave it back. Devil set his hands skimming, fingers finning, thumbs pressing inward at the tops of her thighs. Her nightgown was a mere cobweb of gossamer silk; he let his hands fall, tracing her sleek thighs before closing one hand above each knee. Slowly, he slid his fingers upward, feeling the silk slide over satiny skin, his thumbs drawing lazy circles along her inner thighs. Higher and higher, inch by inch, he raised his hands-the long muscles of her thighs tensed, then locked, then quivered.

He stopped with his thumbs just below her soft curls. Drawing back from their kiss, he watched her-and waited for her lids to rise. When they did, he trapped her gaze with his-and drew two more circles. She shivered.

"Once I take you, there'll be no turning back."

Determination flared, steely blue in her eyes. "Hallelujah."

Their lips met again; Devil loosened his reins. Desire, hot and urgent, rose between them; passion rode in its wake.

Honoria sensed the change in him, felt his muscles harden, felt his hands, still gripping her thighs, tighten. An expectant quiver ran through her tensed muscles. He released them. One hand slid around to spread across her bottom; her skin turned feverish at his touch. He caressed her in slow, sensuous circles-her senses followed, distracted by the silk shifting between hand and naked skin.

Then his hand finned, cupping her bottom-in the same instant, she felt his other hand slide between her parted thighs.

His head angled over hers; his kiss became more demanding. He stroked her through the gossamer silk, stroked and caressed and teased until the silk clung, a second skin, muting his touch, tantalizing her senses. Honoria tensed, fingertips sinking into the muscles of his back. She felt his hand shift; one long finger slid into her, probing gently, then more deliberately.

Suddenly, she couldn't breathe. She pulled back with a gasp-he let her go, his hands leaving her. Grasping her waist, he toppled her back on the bed.

"Wait."

Devil crossed to the door to his dressing room, opened it, confirmed Sligo had not waited up, then locked it. Striding back across the room, he shrugged out of his coat and threw it on the chair. Flicking the intricate folds of his cravat undone, he tugged the yard-long strip from his neck, then stripped off his waistcoat and sent it to join his coat, before unlacing his cuffs and pulling off his shirt. The flame from the candle on the tallboy gilded the muscles of his back, then he turned and picked up the candlestick.

Sprawled, breathless, across his bed, Honoria watched as he set flame to the two five-armed candelabra upon the mantelpiece. Concentrating on each graceful movement, on the play of the flames over his sculpted frame, she held back her thoughts, too scandalous for words. Anticipation had soared; excitement shivered over her skin. Her lungs had seized; a delicious panic had tightened every nerve.

Leaving the single candle on the mantelpiece, Devil carried one candelabra to the side of the bed, tugging the bedside table forward so that the candles' light fell across the covers. Blinking, aware that in the light she'd appear next to naked, Honoria watched as he placed the second candelabra similiarly on the bed's opposite side. She frowned. "Isn't it usually night? I mean dark?"

Devil met her gaze. "You've forgotten something."

Honoria couldn't think what and wasn't sure she cared; her gaze roamed his chest as he walked toward the bed, bathed in golden light. He stopped by her feet, then turned and sat. While he pulled off his boots, she distracted herself with his back. His cuts and scrapes had healed; she reached out a hand and traced one. His skin flickered at her touch; he muttered something beneath his breath. Honoria grinned and spread her fingers-he stood, casting one black glance back at her before stripping off his trousers. He sat to pull them free of his feet; Honoria stared at the long, broad muscles framing his spine, tailing into twin hollows below his waist. He reached, and muscles shifted; the view was almost as good as his chest.

Free of his last restriction, Devil half turned and fell back on the bed. He knew what would happen-Honoria didn't. With a valiantly smothered shriek, she rolled into him, into his arms, unable to gain any purchase on the slippery sheets. He lifted her over him, her legs tangling with his, her hair fanning over his naked chest.

He expected her to be shocked, expected her to hesitate-this had to be the first time she'd touched a naked male. The shock was certainly there-he saw it in her stunned expression; hesitation followed-it lasted a split second.

In the next, their lips met-there was no longer any distinction between him kissing her and her kissing him. He felt her hands on his chest, greedily exploring; he ravaged her mouth-and felt her fingers sink deep. He spread his hands over the firm mounds of her derriere and held her against him, easing the throbbing ache of his erection against her soft belly. She writhed, heated and eager, thin silk no barrier to his senses.

Some women were catlike, elusively seductive-she was far too bold to be a cat. She was demanding, aggressive, intent on, not just fraying his reins, but shredding them. Deliberately invoking his desire, his demons-all the possessiveness in his soul. Which, given she was a virgin, qualified as abject madness.

Breathing raggedly, he pulled back from their kiss. "For God's sake, slow down!"

Engrossed in caressing one flat nipple, Honoria didn't look up. "I'm twenty-four-I've wasted enough time."

She wriggled; Devil gritted his teeth. "You're twenty-four-you should know better. You should at least have some measure of self-preservation." Intent on impaling herself on her fate, she seemed to have no concept of how much he could hurt her, of how much his strength overshadowed hers, of how much harder than her he was.

She was intent on learning-her hands reached lower, exploring the ridges of his lower chest. Devil felt desire rise, full-blown, ravenous-too strong for her to handle. Releasing her buttocks, he grasped her upper arms.

Just as she grasped him.

The shock that lanced through him nearly shattered his control. He froze. So did Honoria.

She looked into his face-his eyes were shut, his expression graven. Carefully, she curled her fingers again, utterly fascinated by her discovery. How could something so hard, so rigid, so ridged, so blatantly, elementally male, be so silky smooth, so soft? Again, she touched the smoothly rounded head-it was akin to stroking hot steel through the finest peach silk.

Devil groaned; he reached down and closed his hand over he

rs-not to pull it away but to curl her fingers more tightly. Eagerly, she followed his unspoken instructions, obviously much more to her taste than slowing down.

He let her caress him until he thought his jaw would break-he had to pull her hand away. She fought him, squirming all over him, soft, hot, silk-encased flesh writhing over his by-now-painful erection.

With an oath, he caught her hands, one in each of his, and rolled, trapping her beneath him. He anchored her hands to the bed and kissed her, deeply and yet more deeply, letting his weight sink fully onto her-until she had no breath left to fight him, no strength to defy him.