“You’re lovely,” he said in a choked voice.
Vulnerability shadowed her eyes as she bit her lip. “When you look at me like that, I feel lovely.”
In the light, she was a creature of gilt and shadow. Nothing could match her. He prayed for the skill to do this superb woman justice.
He kneeled between her legs, sinking into the cushions. Her hot scent made him crazy. She stroked his shoulders and chest until his muscles twitched with longing. Then she lowered her hands to his trousers, brushing his cock.
“Hell—” He grabbed her hand and stared at her in desperation.
“Can’t I touch you?”
He hissed through his teeth and battled for control. “I want you so much.”
“I want you too,” she said softly.
She pressed her lips to his in a kiss that his former supercilious
self might have considered clumsy. For the man who had discovered his heart, the kiss was as destabilizing as an earthquake. He kissed her back, tasting need and innocence.
Awkwardly, hurriedly, he ripped open his trousers. His cock sprang free, hungry and throbbing. She sighed, eyes fluttering shut, and lifted her hips.
Tenderly he cupped her mound, feathery hair beneath his palm. In Oxford he’d had to coax her into accepting such familiarity. Tonight, praise the Lord, her legs swiftly fell open. She was wet, gloriously, lusciously, sumptuously wet.
He pressed his forehead into her satiny shoulder and tested her with one finger, then two. Yes…
Chapter Twenty-Five
Genevieve felt a seeking pressure between her legs, where she was aching and empty. She yearned for Christopher’s possession with a hunger she’d never known, even when he’d touched her on the river.
Breathing raggedly, Christopher braced his weight upon his arms. “I’ll hurt you.”
She hooked her hands around his back. “Don’t stop.”
“I don’t think I can.” The raw voice didn’t sound like the familiar self-possessed man.
He shifted his hips and pressed deeper. Her damp heat eased his passage; still he stretched her. She bit back a whimper and he paused.
Beneath her hands, his back was slippery with sweat and she felt his trembling tension. New sensations overwhelmed her. Sensations that left her shaking. Her body tightened to expel the invader.
He bit down on the nerve in her neck that turned her boneless with pleasure. A jolt of response shot to where their bodies joined. On a shocked inhalation, her muscles loosened a fraction.
He growled with satisfaction. Raising his head, he stared at her as if she was his most precious treasure. The fear lurking below her determination blossomed into warmth. As he kissed her, she shifted to take him deeper. She strained up to prolong the kiss and in that moment, he thrust. Stiffening, she cried out against his mouth.
“Don’t cry, please, darling, don’t cry.” He placed urgent kisses over her face and neck.
He looked tortured to the edge of endurance. He looked like his suffering far exceeded hers. Especially now that the pain ebbed and her body subtly adjusted. Her lips caught his with a fierceness that made her blood rush.
He groaned and shifted. The new angle sparked a cannonade of sensations. Astonishing, almost pleasurable sensations. She moved, rubbing her breasts against his chest.
Supporting himself on one hand, he stroked her. She moaned and closed hard around him. This time tightness delivered pleasure not discomfort.
As he slowly withdrew, Genevieve felt every inch. “Don’t go,” she begged brokenly, tugging the damp hair clinging to his nape.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he responded softly. With smooth power, he pushed inside again.
Her shocked gaze met his. “Oh.”
He smiled with the brilliance she’d come to believe was only for her. “Oh, indeed.”