A low growl sounded in his throat, then his arms came up and locked about her.
Kit felt giddy, spun around by passion in a way he’d never felt before. Desire was a thunder in his blood, but it was her fire, her passion, that had swept him from his moorings.
All he could think about was having her beneath him. His only driving need was to claim her.
Her mouth was open to him, surrendered, a gift beyond price. He’d instinctively reacted and staked his claim, and her response only ratcheted the tension that drove him higher.
Only made him harder, the thud in his blood more insistent.
He angled his head and plunged deeper. Found her tongue with his, stroked, then plundered.
And she followed his lead, enticing, inciting, every single step of the way.
He’d needed her—to have her and hold her—for weeks, and tonight, his dreams would transform into reality, and the gnawing hunger in his soul would finally be sated.
With that aim in mind, he backed her toward the bed.
Sylvia felt her legs hit the side of the bed, but before she could rejoice that they were finally moving on, she sensed Kit hesitating. Almost dithering.
She was already too heated, with a slowly building urgency coursing through her veins, to countenance any unnecessary delay.
Closing her fists in his lapels, she stretched up on her toes and kissed him with all the passionate hunger in her soul—and tipped backward.
She landed on the silk coverlet and, to her delight, succeeded in toppling him with her.
But he broke the kiss and twisted to land on his shoulder by her side, rather than atop her as she’d hoped.
No matter. Using her grip on his lapels, she used his weight as an anchor, swung to her side, and pressed her body flush against his.
For just one second, he froze. She seized the moment, clasped his face, and pressed a fevered kiss to his lips.
Then she sent her hands wandering—a desire of hers that, until now, he’d severely curtailed.
Tonight, the bonds of marriage had set her free, and she was determined to make the most of it.
To experience and savor her first foray into conjugal bliss to the hilt.
She felt sure it would be bliss. With a husband like him, it simply wouldn’t be anything else—he would never allow it.
But she wanted—needed—to get to the blissful point sooner rather than later.
Dispensing with his cravat took several minutes—minutes during which she strove to keep him engaged through the increasingly ravenous kiss so that he didn’t focus on her busy hands.
The instant she’d unraveled the silk folds, she left the cravat lying about his neck and fell upon the buttons of his waistcoat, then his shirt.
Over the past weeks, in preparation for tonight, she’d assiduously practiced kissing him. She’d learned the art of give and take, of aggressor and appeaser, of conqueror and conquered. It took all of her accumulated skill to keep him engrossed in the kiss...
Until finally, the last button slipped free, and she slid her greedy palms across the hot skin stretched over the heavy muscles banding his chest.
So firm and hard; on a soft gasp, she broke from the kiss and opened her eyes. Taut skin sheathing hard muscle met her wondering gaze. Delight swelled inside her, and she swept her hands wide, pushing him onto his back and parting the shirt so she could savor the width, the solidity, the sheer overwhelming masculinity of the lightly tanned expanse laced with crinkly brown hair that curled about her slender fingers.
His muscles tensed and shifted beneath her questing hands. Delighted anew, she stroked, then sank her fingertips into the resilient, steely strength.
Hers. All hers.
She sent her fingers tripping down, over the ridges of his abdomen, feeling the muscles twitch under the light caress. A trail of crisp brown hair bisected his torso, circling his navel before extending farther down...
As her eyes and her trailing fingers followed the line, he sucked in a short breath. Then he caught her hands, one in each of his, and hauled her hands above his shoulders so that she fell full length atop him. Releasing her hands, he locked one arm about her—pressing her aching breasts flush against that glorious chest—while his other hand cupped her head, and he hauled her into a ravaging kiss.