Shifting, she lay fully atop him, settling his erection between her thighs. She rolled her hips, experimenting until she found the particular shifting slide that most evocatively stroked him.
And felt the muscles in his arms shift, tensing, relaxing, then tensing again, as if he couldn't make up his mind.
Swallowing a curse, she trapped his lips with hers-and put her heart and soul into a slow, deliberate undulation, breasts, hips and thighs-even the curls at the base of her belly-coming into play. Deliberately evocative, she called to him.
And he answered. She felt the wave of response building in his body, felt the need she baited flare and swell. Felt hard become harder, felt tense muscles turn taut.
With a gasp-of relief, of anticipation-she dragged her lips from his and half wriggled, half slid to the side. Puppetlike, his body followed; as she turned on her back, she grasped his upper arm, tugging him over her.
The reins of his lust locked in a grip of iron, Richard followed her lead-let her shift, let her tug-let her believe he was dazedly following her directions as she urged him over her. He complied, moving heavily, unhurriedly.
While she panted, in heat.
Consumed by heat. At his touch, her thighs parted. He swung heavily over her, then let himself down between, then took his time settling himself-and her. Impatient, she arched, and he felt her heat scald him, touch and cling to that most exquisitely sensitive part of him.
He caught his breath-and felt, in his chest, something shift, something lock. With a soft, desperate gasp, she arched again-and he eased into her.
Slowly. Savoring every inch of her hot softness as she stretched to accommodate him, savoring the subtle easing of her body as she accepted him.
She sighed as he sank home, then her hands, tensed on his arms, relaxed. And skimmed down his sides.
He caught them-first one, then the other-letting his weight down on her as he trapped them. And gently but firmly removed the reins from her grasp. Beneath him, she shifted, sinking deeper into the soft mattress, angling her hips to cradle him more effectively.
Tentatively, she lifted her legs, sliding them over his flanks.
"Yes." He breathed the word against her lips as he settled fully upon her. He found her lips with his and took them, took her mouth, then pressed deeper into her.
He drank her instinctive gasp-a gasp of pure pleasure. Inwardly smiling, he drew back, then sank deep again, and felt her flaring response. He set himself to feed it.
To stoke her fires, to drive her frantic. More frantic than she'd ever been.
With each slow, controlled thrust, the flames within her rose higher; he held to a steady, rolling rhythm until she was burning. Until, hot and heated, awash with desire, she rose beneath him, meeting every thrust, her body caressing him, clinging to him, cleaving to him. Until she was aflame, urgent in her wanting, desperate in her need.
Frantic.
Trapped in the heat, Catriona flexed her fingers, trying to slip them from his grasp, frantic to hold him, desperate to draw him to her-to reach the bright pinnacle of physical bliss that hovered on her horizon. Sunk deep in the mattress, she squirmed and panted, trying to get that last inch closer, trying to get him that last fraction of an inch deeper. His fingers, clamped about hers, didn't give, but, to her surging relief, surging expectation, he raised his chest slightly, just enough so her nipples, excruciatingly tight, brushed his chest.
So they were brushed by his chest.
A scream welled in her throat; struggling to lift her heavy lids, she swallowed it as he lifted higher, breaking their kiss. He was a dense shadow looming over her, shoulders and chest surging in a slow, powerful rhythm, a rhythm she could feel in her marrow. In her womb.
With her hands still anchored, one on either side of her head, she gripped his flanks with her thighs, gasping, arching, as he thrust harder, deeper.
Then he drew back farther; lips parted, senses whirling, she waited, quivering, for the next impaling stroke. Only to feel him rock lightly, penetrating her with just the tip of the hard length she wanted buried inside her.
She opened her lips on a protest-instead, she gasped anew as, bending his head, he took one ruched nipple into his mouth. Hips rocking gently, teasingly, he feasted on her swollen breasts, until she was awash on an endless sea. A sea of pure pleasure.
After laving her hot flesh, his lips burned when they again brushed hers.
"Why are you here?"
She wasn't, at first, sure whether he had spoken, or she'd simply heard the words in her head. But his hips stopped rocking; he lay, hot and hard as a brand, just parting the swollen folds about her entrance.
Leaving her empty.
"Because I want you."
After an instant's pause, he started rocking again, once, twice-then he slid into her anew. She sighed, then lost what breath she had left as he pushed deep, then nudged deeper, and let his weight down on her once more.