She could not begin to express the sensations coursing through her, the sensual bombardment on every level—even the sound of his harsh breathing was enough to make her tremble. And when his hands began to move over her, slow and sure, she shuddered with the force of her desire. When he had kissed her that night at the inn, Mary had felt passion awakening in her in every nerve, every sense, every muscle. But tonight …
Tonight the sensations did not surprise her. She had some knowledge of the pleasure that would come from the stroke of his fingers, the brush of his lips. Half expecting that knowledge to lessen the force of her responses, to her astonishment she found that anticipation only enhanced the feelings. She waited for the pleasure, the tingling rushing hunger, sure that it could not have been as amazing as she remembered and marveling when she found that it was even more so.
His lips were soft upon her skin; his teeth scraped and nipped. His tongue traced hot, damp designs upon her flesh. Mary trembled, wanting more even as she thought that she might shatter under the tension. Heat pierced her abdomen and spread outward.
Royce’s mouth reached the neck of her nightgown, and he growled out an irritated oath. Straightening, he jerked at the sash of her dressing gown and it opened, the sides of the robe falling apart. Light sparked in his eyes as he spread the garment wide to reveal her slender body clad only in pristine white cotton. The scoop neck revealed little more than her collarbone and the pale expanse of her upper chest, but the round orbs of her breasts pushed out against the gown.
His gaze never left her body as he grasped the lapels of her dressing gown and slid it down her shoulders and arms. Her breasts quivered at the subtle movements of her body, and her nipples thrust against the thin material. His fingers went to the ties of her night rail and they fell apart one by one, revealing a wider swath of white skin with each undone ribbon.
Mary watched the subtle reactions that played across Royce’s face as he looked at her. His eyes glittered as the color rose in his skin. His mouth widened and softened, and his breath came harsh and fast in his throat. Watching him, she felt passion pooling ever more hotly deep within her.
The inner curves of her breasts were framed by the open neck of her gown, and Royce reached out to trace his index finger along each slope. Mary pulled in a sharp breath, heat burgeoning between her legs. It seemed to her that she could feel each tiny groove and ridge of his fingertip upon her sensitive skin as he moved with almost unbearable slowness down one breast and up the other.
Opening her gown, he slipped his hands inside, covering her breasts. Mary blushed and closed her eyes, no longer able to hold his gaze. She was not sure whether she flushed from embarrassment or from desire, for her body was flooded with excitement at his touch. She was aware of a surging desire to feel his hands all over her, to have him explore and touch and arouse her. Her nipples tightened, pressing into his palms, and her knees began to tremble until she wondered if she would be able to continue to stand.
Mary grasped his shirtfront to steady herself. She could feel the heat of his skin searing through the cloth and the pounding of his heart in his chest. She wanted to touch him as he touched her, learning all the textures of him, all the planes and angles and valleys. Unable to resist, she slid her hand inside his shirt and moved it slowly across his chest. His flesh quivered beneath her touch, suddenly afire. She glanced up into his eyes, and the fierce heat she saw there made her pulse leap. He watched her, his gaze unwavering, even challenging, as his hands continued to caress her breasts.#p#分页标题#e#
Drawing a shaky breath, Mary let her fingers roam across his flesh, tangling in the softly curling hairs of his chest, pressing into the firm pad of muscle beneath his skin. She trailed her fingers down the hard line of his breastbone, then spread her hand to glide across the ridges of his ribs. His breath rasped in his throat, but he did not move as she inched her way upward, finding at last the flat hard buds of his masculine nipples.
Recalling what he had done with her at the inn, she gently pinched the nipple between her thumb and forefinger and was rewarded by a small, soft noise. Smiling a little, she toyed with him, teasing and caressing, stroking and squeezing gently.
“Your mouth,” he whispered. “I want to feel your mouth on me.”
Mary glanced up at him, her lips rounding into a startled O. But she knew even through her surprise that she wanted to do as he asked—that, indeed, putting her lips to his skin was what she had been aching to do from the moment he started kissing her.
He saw the self-satisfied little smile begin to curve her lips, saw the intent blossom in her eyes, and his own face flared with hunger. He released her and took a step back, reaching down to pull his shirt up over his head and fling it to the floor. Mary moved in close, spreading both her hands across his waist. She slid them slowly up his body and, as she did so, bent and placed a flutter of a kiss on the center of his chest.