A Certain Wolfish Charm(61)

He smiled when she arched against him. She didn't know what. She just knew she needed. She needed him.



His hand moved between her thighs, one finger swiping across her heat. She couldn't keep from crying out. Her center throbbed, like a fire waiting to be stoked. Like a pot that simmered, just before the steam.



"So wet," he breathed against her ear. She closed her eyes tightly, and he stopped the movement of his hand.



"What's wrong?" she nearly begged. Surely he wouldn't stop now. Surely he would ease this torment.



"Open your eyes," he said. She did, only to find his eyes, dark as night, staring into her own. "Know that it is me who takes you."



Lily's hand trailed down his chest, her nails raking his belly as she reached lower. And lower still. She took the heat of him in her hand and pressed him to her center. She rocked against him, but he didn't move. He didn't answer her thrusts. He simply looked at her. He watched her torment.



Lily wrapped her legs around him, her heels at his buttocks, pressing them insistently to pull him into her. And finally he did. He entered her slowly, inch by inch.



His arms shook on each side of her as he held himself above her, slowly sliding farther and farther inside. There was a moment of discomfort as he pressed forward. He slowed and kissed her eyelids, pulsing inside her. She bumped his buttocks with her heels again, and he pressed forward, seating himself fully inside her.



"I am inside you," he said softly.



"I know," she gasped out as he began to slowly withdraw. "No!" she cried. But he quickly surged back into her. He set a rhythm as old as time, moving in and out of her in quick strokes. Grasping her hips, he tilted her and went farther. He consumed every inch of space inside her and still asked for more. She graciously gave it.



He stoked the fire within her, taking her up and over the place where he'd taken her in the garden, making this oh-so-much-better simply because he shared it with her.


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When she finally erupted, she called his name. He pressed his face into her neck, his arms sliding under her, holding her closer than she'd have ever thought possible, and then he joined her.





Twenty-Seven





Lily stirred in his arms, and Simon pulled her closer to him. With her eyes closed, she gently kissed his chest and then tried, once more, to pull away from him. "Stay where you are," he ordered softly, intertwining one of his legs with hers.



"Simon," she giggled against his chest. "Shouldn't we return to the others?"



He rolled her onto her back and pressed his lips to hers. "We could just stay here forever."



"We could," she agreed, grinning at him. Lily's gaze drifted across his naked torso and stopped. Her eyebrows drew together. She lifted one finger to touch a mark below his shoulder.



"What's that?" she asked.



"Birthmark," he said quietly as he nuzzled her neck.



"Oliver has one that's similar."



"As do Will and Ben, and even Daniel had one. Family trait." He lifted his head to look into her eyes. "Does it bother you?"



"Why would it bother me?" She looked puzzled. Then she did the unthinkable and lifted her face to press her lips to the moon-shaped mark. "I think it's quite handsome."



The warmth of her lips pressed against the very thing that marked him as a beast made him pause. Simon closed his eyes tightly and savored the moment. Never before had he felt so accepted.



"I believe Oliver's is on his thigh."



"Then he will be a very lucky man the day he finds a woman to kiss it, won't he?" Simon laughed.



"Oh, Simon," she punched his shoulder. "We should get up," she sighed, a contented smile hovering about her lips.



"You'd like to see about Oliver?"



Her smile vanished. "He seemed worried, didn't he?"



"Just overprotective," Simon growled. Irritating little pup.



Lily cupped his face. "No reason for that."



None that she knew about anyway. "Don't be so sure, love. I can be quite dangerous."



She giggled again. "You're not frightening in the least. I think that persona you wear like a cloak is all for show."



Simon nuzzled her neck. "Naïve wench." She was so soft and pliant beneath him, and he could easily take her again. He longed to do so, but it was too soon.



Lily caressed his back, and Simon groaned, not yet wanting this to end. But the time had come. He lifted his head and dropped a very chaste kiss on her cheek. "Get dressed, Lily, and go see about Oliver."



He slid from the bed and ran his fingers over her naked form. She was a vision, her hair tousled, her hazel eyes darkened with passion, her lips swollen from his kisses. God willing, he'd see this same vision every day of his life… with, of course, a few exceptions.