Untouched

One day. Maybe in a thousand years.

Never.

Now Grace hovered in the open doorway.

He was surprised to see her. And dismayed. The electric darkness whispered of all the things he wanted to do to her. He prayed she stayed where she was. If she came any closer, he didn’t trust himself.

“What is it, Grace?” he asked in concern, sitting up. “Are you ill?”

“No.”

The almost inaudible syllable didn’t reassure. He stood and reached for his clothes, close to hand since last night. “Let me light a candle,” he said, fumbling for his shirt.

“No.” This time with more force. He heard her inhale, the sound rasping like a file over his taut nerves.

“Grace?”

“I’m sorry,” she said brokenly.

With a cracked sob, she launched herself in his direction. A warm fragrant bundle of femininity landed hard against him. Automatically, his arms closed around her, his shirt dangling uselessly from one hand.

She was slender and trembling in his grasp and sweeter even than he’d imagined. While he told himself to let her go, his grip firmed, dragged her closer.

“What…” he managed to say before she clutched the sides of his head and tugged him down with clumsy force.

“Forgive me,” she said, the words muffled. Then her lips, hot and taut with purpose, jammed against his.

The world outside the embrace stopped. His mind ceased to function. His body began to function too well.

She wore the sheer nightdress. He wore nothing at all. Only a flimsy layer of material separated them. His skin burned where it touched hers and he hardened in immediate response. Her womanly scent filled his head. Her heat filled his arms.

Before he could stop himself, he tightened his hold so her lush breasts flattened upon his bare chest. His shirt fell disregarded to the floor as his hand shaped the sinuous indentation of her waist.

She gave a whimpered protest and tore her closed mouth from his. The kiss had been too brief to justify the name. But even such brutal, fleeting contact inflamed his starved senses. He wanted her mouth on him again. He wanted time to discover her taste.

“Kiss me,” she said unsteadily, her fingers kneading the muscles of his arms.

Keeping his hands off her was difficult enough when she maintained a decorous distance. Now he found it impossible. Her warmth eddied out to lure him closer until he forgot everything but pleasure.

He moved his hands to her shoulders, as much to contain his own rioting reactions as to hold her off. What little he’d learned about the shape of her, the curves and dips and valleys of her body, scorched his mind, urged him to discover more. But he wasn’t totally lost to passion, although he wavered on the brink.

“We can’t do this.” Regret laced each word he wrested from his tight throat.

Her shuddering inhalation pressed her breasts into his chest. He gritted his teeth and struggled to stop his hands slipping down to weigh and touch and explore.

“I have to,” she said hoarsely.

Even in his overexcited state, that response seemed odd. A voice demanding caution screamed at the back of his mind. “God, Grace…”

She clasped his head in her cool slender hands. “Kiss me.”

The brief flash of clarity evaporated. Under his hands, she stretched up. For one incendiary moment, her mouth clung to his. The intimacy was astonishing. His unruly cock swelled and lifted. Her lips were so soft, like warm satin. Experimentally, he made a slight sucking movement. A shiver ran through her and the fingers clutching his arms dug into his flesh almost to the bone.

He stopped. He must be doing this wrong.

His heart overflowing with self-disgust, he waited for her to recoil from his boorishness. But with a cry, she pitched herself after him as if even that much separation was too much. His hands slid to her back, gathering her closer.