Now both hands were out of the water and cupping her face, stroking her cheekbones, and she could feel all her good intentions disintegrating like sand through a strainer. She couldn’t fight him any more. What she felt was powerful enough to destroy every item in the feeble armoury she had in reserve. She was sick of looking at him and wanting to touch him and telling herself that she shouldn’t, that it was wrong. She was sick of being scared and out of her depth. She loved him and she wanted him and if he was only aware of one of those two things, then that was enough. She would leave England all too soon. Why leave with regrets for things undone?
She ran the tip of her tongue over her lips, aware of the rampantly sexual come-on signal she was giving and, when he bent his head towards hers with a groan, she sighed and offered herself to him with abandonment.
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘WHY don’t we leave all these dirty dishes and go upstairs?’ he murmured into her ear, and she gave a whimper in response. She really didn’t care where they were, just so long as she could feel his hard body pressed against hers.
They walked up the stairs to his bedroom, with Destiny noticing absolutely nothing on the way. If someone had asked her what the colour of the wallpaper was on the walls, or whether she was walking on carpet, wooden flooring, tiles or red hot coals, for that matter, she would not have been able to give an answer. In fact, she felt as though she were floating, and his fingers laced through hers were like fire against her skin.
By the time they finally made it to his bedroom she knew that she was shaking like a leaf, a combination of excitement and nerves, and she raised her eyes hesitantly to his. At the door, she paused wordlessly.
‘I suppose you must be accustomed to this…sort of thing…’ Her voice was barely above a whisper and he gazed at her softly.
‘I’m not celibate, if that’s what you mean. And there’s no need to be scared…’
‘You don’t mind that… I mean, with all your experience… Does it bother you that I’m a…?’
‘Virgin?’
Destiny nodded, blushing at the bluntness of the word, now that it was out in the open. Never in a million years would she have imagined that her own lack of experience would have left her feeling so vulnerable. She could stop right now; she knew that. Call a halt and walk right back down those stairs. But she also knew that she wouldn’t. This was right.
‘I have never felt so honoured in my life,’ he said huskily, which brought an unsteady smile to her lips. ‘Come with me.’ He led her into the massive en suite bathroom and then sat her down in a wicker chair by the window.
‘What are you doing?’
‘I’m going to relax you.’
She watched as he began running a bath, testing the temperature every so often with his fingers, adding bubble bath that smelt of cinnamon. The bath was grand enough to suit the dimensions of the bathroom. It was a Victorian masterpiece, with clawed feet. A large, masculine bath that blended well with the forest-green and white tiles surrounding it. She could easily imagine him lying in it, long, indolent, one arm draped lazily over the side, eyes closed. And, of course, naked.
The thought made her pulses begin to race once more.
What, she thought a little hysterically, did one do with a man’s naked body? Would he be as big and awesome down there as his build suggested? She was so lacking in experience that she doubted she would know what to touch. The idea made her feel faint and she closed her eyes briefly.
‘Not dozing off, are you?’
Her eyes flew open to find him standing above her, smiling.
‘No,’ she squeaked, gripping the arms of the wicker chair.
‘Stand up.’
Destiny obeyed. Without saying so, she knew that he was well aware of the battle raging between her fear at stepping into the unknown and her excitement at the prospect, and he was taking control. She also knew that she could trust him implicitly.
‘Now, my darling, just you stand there…’ He gently kissed her eyes and stroked her eyebrows with his thumbs.
If only she knew what agony it was, he thought to himself. If only she knew that he was damned nervous himself, though not of the physical act, as she was. Understandably. No, he just wanted to touch her everywhere and in every way that would be right for her, make her the recipient of his glorious passion and feel that body of hers respond to his the way he knew she would. There was something touchingly childlike about this tall woman who could tackle anything life threw at her but this.
He rolled his fingers along her collarbone and very slowly began to undo the long zipper at the back of her dress, feeling her quick, shallow breathing under his hands. It slipped to the ground and pooled around her ankles. God, he was trembling almost as much as she was! He moved to unclasp her bra from the front.