Shattered Vows(30)

As she warmed to the kiss, her shame melted. It was so good to lie with Oliver’s mouth moving across hers, so good to feel his arms about her. His fingers were playing in her hair, touching her ears. She gave a tiny sigh and pressed closer.

He lifted his head, gently stroking her cheek. Her face burned under his caress. Overcome with a sudden shyness, she turned her head from his.

Oliver kissed her neck. She gasped as an arrow of fire seemed to burn its way through her body. With his lips and tongue at her neck, he was making her entire body go up in flames. She gripped his shoulder, kissing it, tasting it. Tasting him. Oliver.

‘That’s better,’ he muttered, his breath warming her ear. ‘I thought for a moment you’d forgotten you chose me.’

Rosamund was beyond speech. It was bad enough trying to breathe. His lips returned to her mouth and she met him eagerly, kiss for kiss. Her fingers tugged at his hair to pull him closer and his answering groan intensified her pleasure. She moved restlessly.

Oliver’s hand was shaking as he moved it over her breast. God, he couldn’t remember when a girl had felt so responsive. He ached to possess her. He must remember that she was a virgin. He mustn’t rush at her like a callow youth and spoil it for her. He wanted her first, full loving to be filled with wonder and joy.

Rosamund placed a hand over the one which caressed her breast. ‘Can you feel what you’re doing to my heart?’

‘I can feel more than that, my angel.’

She gave a little laugh. ‘I’m no angel. Unless I’m a fallen one. No angel would beg for love.’

‘A fallen angel,’ he repeated, his eyes on the glossy hair which framed her face. ‘Aye. Have you another kiss for me, my beautiful fallen angel?’

She wound her arms round his neck, reaching for that warm and sensuous mouth, willingly losing herself in sensation such as she had never known. There was no shame in this, only pure enchantment.

Oliver’s hand moved slowly down Rosamund’s body. Every inch of her felt perfect. That soft breast arching towards his touch, the curve of her waist, the rounded hip... He caught the hem of her gown and pulled back to ease it from her, smiling at her murmur of protest.

‘Angel, I must take this gown off. Lovely though it is, I prefer you without it. Lift up your arms. There.’

Oliver stared at the girl lying flushed and willing in his bed. His breath caught, she was even lovelier in the flesh. Beauty personified.

‘Oliver?’ Her voice was uncertain. She reached for the sheet and dragged it over herself, clutching it to her body as though it were a shield.

‘You were created for loving,’ he whispered, brushing the sheet aside. He felt her shudder as their bodies touched. Luminous blue eyes turned trustingly to his. What was it about this girl? She was irresistible. If Geoffrey but knew what he had given him this night...

Oliver buried his head in a cloud of hair – kissing her through it. Pushing the long, silky strands out of his way. All thoughts of his cousin melted from his mind as his body heated.

Rosamund could do nothing but cling to Oliver. His kisses filled her senses, her limbs felt weak. Still clad in his hose, Oliver lay half across her. His leg was heavy between hers and the impulse to press herself against that leg was as sudden as it was shocking. How unseemly! With a moan, she twisted beneath him.

He was raining soft, biting kisses on her face and neck. His head moved lower, to her breast and she held in another moan as he kissed first one breast and then the other. Her nipples tightened.

‘Oliver?’

Oliver felt Rosamund’s gasp in his groin. She was clutching his head to her breast, straining towards him, urging him on. Unashamedly, wantonly. Wriggling beneath him with such abandon that he could contain himself no longer.

His breath was coming fast. He eased himself back. In his eagerness, he fumbled at the ties of his hose. Slender fingers were there before him, swiftly untying the cord and pushing at the material. He held his breath.

‘Shocked, Oliver?’ Her husky whisper was an incitement to sin. ‘I chose you, remember?’

Oliver moved his body over hers, not entering her yet, it was too soon for that. He swallowed her gasp with a kiss. ‘Merciful Heavens, woman! Will you stop wriggling? Or I won’t be able to wait until you’re ready for me.’

Her reply was muffled. ‘I’m ready.’

He shook his head at her. ‘Not yet, you aren’t.’ His knee met no resistance and he nudged her legs apart.

Rosamund found herself holding her breath as his fingers found that secret part of her that no man had touched until now. It was ecstasy and it was agony. She wanted more. She pushed against his hand and his clever fingers sent her spiralling higher and higher. She writhed beneath him, her whole being yearning for release from a torment so exquisite she must surely die.