Untouched

He’d learned caution. He didn’t mistake her hesitant cooperation for permission to rush to completion. He snatched at resolution. Close to impossible when her hot scent swirled around him and threatened to submerge him.

With a superhuman effort, he ignored his urges and focused on igniting hers. He remembered how she’d trembled when he kissed her neck. He tucked the thought away and closed his eyes, concentrating on her mouth.

Finally, when her body folded against his with the beautiful naturalness of a water lily opening on a lake, she gave a tiny sigh and parted her lips. Immediately, his tongue plunged inside.

She growled deep in her throat and slid closer. Her hands crept up to tangle in his hair. Her tongue rasped against his, ventured into his mouth in a quick exploration, then returned for a longer foray. Searing desire zigzagged through him.

He wondered if she even knew what she did. He doubted it. She was lost in kisses. Only reminding himself what was at stake prevented him from becoming similarly lost.

She’d trusted him this far. If he failed her, she’d never trust him again.

How excruciating to hold to his goal when she clung so tightly. Or when his tongue was so deep in her mouth.

Too intense. Too much. Too soon. Patience.

Damn bloody patience. He snapped and snarled at that restraining voice.

He needed her so much. He needed her now.

Even so, he drew back from the edge. Eased the pressure on her mouth. Broke the long succulent exploration into smaller, quicker kisses.

He burned to taste her everywhere. To find out if all of her was as sweet as that honey trap of a mouth. He shifted her onto her back and licked his way down her neck to the fragrant curve of a shoulder. She quivered and made a muffled sound of excitement. Her legs rubbed against his in a devilishly suggestive dance and her breath emerged in rapid gusts.

Oh, yes, his strategy worked, all right. It might even succeed if he didn’t shatter into a million shards of frustration first. He nipped and sucked at her sensitive neck and tasted her shivers of surrender.

Only when she gasped and mewed with pleasure did he lift his head.

Flushed with desire, she sprawled against the white sheets. Beautiful. Her eyes were dark and heavy, the pupils so dilated, they almost swallowed the rich blue of her irises.

He slid his hand down to raise the hem of the nightdress, revealing long slender legs. Her intoxicating scent assailed him anew, made the blood surge in his veins.

Jesus, she’d kill him before she finished.

Somewhere he found the strength to rein himself in.

He uncovered the soft plain of her belly. The skin there was so pure and white. He couldn’t help kissing it, dipping his tongue into her navel, nibbling a path from one hip to the other. She was his territory and he wanted to map every glorious inch. He nuzzled her hipbone where she curved so deliciously. His hand moved up and down her leg, learning the perfect shape of thigh and knee and calf.

Her different textures fascinated him.

What a magnificent mystery was a woman. Was Grace.

He didn’t dare touch her sex yet. Even if the incense of her musky arousal promised to send him spinning to the sky.

She moaned again and moved agitatedly on the sheets. He prayed he goaded her into a fever of desire. He certainly goaded himself into one.

Through years of suffering, he’d learned discipline. He beat back the ravening beast inside him.

He bunched the nightdress higher, revealing the plump undersides of her breasts. The barrier of fabric, flimsy as it was, had become unbearable.

“Take it off,” he growled. “Take it off or I’ll tear it to pieces.”

“Wait,” she said breathlessly. She wriggled up against the pillows to tug the nightdress over her head.

No teasing fiddle with the ties this time.

Hell, if she teased him now, he’d damn well explode.

His blood pounded hot and heavy, louder than thunder. With a shuddering breath, he knelt over her, straddling her hips. He filled his hands with her breasts, luxuriating in their beauty, cupping their roundness.