Sweet Surrender With the Millionaire(31)

She turned in his arms, kissing him hungrily. 'Them and me both,' she murmured. 'I didn't think the last few would ever go.'

With a groan of longing he pulled her into him and then lifted her off  her feet, carrying her over the threshold for the second time that day.  Kicking the door shut behind him, he held her high against his chest as  he kissed her, devouring her mouth as she yielded to his maleness, her  body boneless and fluid against his. She was trembling but not with  fright, and as his mouth crushed hers possessively she strained against  him, wanting more, passionate and willing for all the love he had to  give.                       
       
           



       

By the time they reached the bedroom they were both breathing raggedly,  their faces flushed. From somewhere Morgan found the strength to slow  down. This had to be so right for her after all she had been through and  he didn't want to rush it. They had a thousand tomorrows and he would  make sure they were all filled with happiness and fulfilment but  tonight-tonight was precious, a night apart. Tonight she became his  wife.

An ice-bucket with a bottle of the best champagne and two flutes, along  with a huge bowl of hothouse strawberries, was standing on a small table  close to the bed. He made himself walk across and pour two glasses  after he had set her down on her feet, returning immediately and placing  one glass in her fingers before he said, 'To us, Mrs Wright.'

She smiled up at him and touched his cheek with her palm. 'To us, Mr Wright. And you are right for me, so right.'

They drank deeply before he set the glasses down and took her in his  arms again, covering her face with kisses before he turned her round and  began to undo the tiny buttons, kissing and nuzzling her shoulders and  the nape of her neck as he did so. He edged the dress apart, caressing  the silky skin of her back, before continuing with the myriad buttons,  swearing softly once or twice when a particular button resisted his  efforts and making her giggle.

'Of all the dresses in all the world … '

'I wanted to look beautiful for you,' she murmured softly.

'Believe me, my darling, you don't need clothes for that.'

When the final button gave up the fight he turned her round to face him  and as he did so she let the dress fall to the floor. The look of wonder  on his face was all she could have wished for. 'My surprise,' she  whispered, suddenly overcome with shyness at the expression on his face.  'Happy wedding day.'

'You're more beautiful than words can say,' he breathed against her  skin, his hands cupping her breasts as his mouth explored her curves. He  peeled off her bra and then her stockings, taking his time, using his  hands and mouth with exquisitely controlled sensuality as he knelt  before her. When he removed the scrap of material that was her panties,  followed lastly by the garter, she tugged at his hair.

'My turn,' she murmured plaintively.

He smiled, rising to his feet and standing before her as she undressed  him. Now it was she who stroked and tasted the contours of his body, the  hard muscles that shivered under her fingers and the roughness of his  body hair exciting her as she teased him. By the time he was naked he  was hugely aroused.

He lifted her up and carried her over to the bed, placing her on the  black satin sheets and lying down beside her. She had half expected that  their first time would be a quick and lusty coupling born of the desire  he had kept a rein on for so long, but Morgan spent a long time showing  her differently. He kissed and tasted and caressed every inch of her  until she was mindless beneath him and begging for the release only he  could give. And still he continued to please her.

She had never dreamt her body was capable of what it was feeling, that  it was possible for pleasure to reach such a pitch that it was  unbearable in its intensity. He introduced her to things she'd had no  idea of, things that would have made her blush in the cold light of day  but which were so right in the warm womb of their room. And all the time  he whispered words of love and passion, taking care not to hurt her,  her pleasure his only focus.

She was sleek and wet when finally he nudged her thighs apart and  entered her, moving slowly, carefully at first, conscious it had been a  while for her and she would be tight. She was tight, but his  ministrations had prepared her body to receive its satin-hard invader.

He filled her completely, the sensation extremely satisfying, and as he  began to move with gentle thrusts to build her pleasure small rhythmic  contractions began to grow deep inside, sending shivers throughout her  body. And still he took his time, building passion until she no longer  recognised who she was. Until she merged into him and he into her.

She knew the moment he surrendered to his own desire; suddenly he was  moving faster and deeper, his voice hoarse as he groaned her name with  each thrust of his body. They reached their culmination together,  spiralling off into a world of colour and light and sensation that held  no past and no future, just the glorious present. Morgan gave a single  raw cry of fierce gratification, collapsing on top of her seconds later  as he turned and drew her against him, still joined. They were both  gasping for breath but slowly the frantic pounding of their hearts  quietened and their eyes opened.                       
       
           



       

It was only then Willow was able to speak, her voice dazed as she whispered, 'I never knew … '

It was ample reward for his patience and restraint and he smiled,  smoothing her hair back before kissing her forehead. 'You're amazing,'  he murmured softly, kissing her again.

'It-it was good for you?'

He recognised the thread of doubt, the need for reassurance, and love  for her made his voice husky when he said, 'It was better than good, my  love. I fell off the edge of the world.'

Her voice carried laughter in it now when she said, 'That good, eh?' as she tangled her fingers in the soft hair of his chest.

He stroked her back, her waist. 'You're all I could ever have hoped for,  all I could have dreamed of, and I will love you till the day I die and  beyond. I would give my life for you and consider it well lost, and I  will never betray your trust in me by thought or word or deed.'

She touched her fingers to his mouth, her face blazing with love. 'I  know,' she said, and she did. 'Because I feel the same.' She snuggled  deeper into him, feeling his body respond instantly. 'Morgan,' she  whispered, 'do you realise we might have made a baby?'

His voice held amusement when he said, 'I have to admit that wasn't high  on my list of priorities for tonight, but, yes, we agreed we wouldn't  use precautions so I suppose it's possible from now on.'

'But we might not have done,' she said after a moment.

'No, we might not.'

She lifted her eyes to his and they were glinting with laughter. 'So we  could always increase the odds, couldn't we?' She twisted her hips and  heard his sharp intake of breath as she rubbed against him.

'Absolutely.'

They made love twice more before finally falling asleep in each other's  arms when it was light and church bells were celebrating the birth of  the Saviour. Willow's last lucid thought was that from now on she would  spend her nights in this man's arms and wake up in the morning to the  sound of his breathing and the promise of making love with him and  feeling his arms holding her. Her body felt sensuously satisfied, her  mind was at peace and she wanted to stay like this for ever. She slept.

EPILOGUE

WILLOW didn't get her wedding-night baby, but exactly twelve months to  the day they married, on a snowy Christmas Eve, their twin daughters  made their appearance into the world.

Willow and Morgan hadn't planned on a home birth-with it being twins and  a first pregnancy they'd been advised a hospital confinement would be  advisable-but the speed of the labour took everyone, including Willow,  by surprise. Morgan ended up delivering the babies with Beth's help as  Beth, Peter and little David had been spending the day with them.

By the time the midwife reached the house after Morgan's frantic  telephone call, it was all over. Holly and Ivy were tucked up in bed  with their mother having their first feed, the strains of the carol that  featured their names filtering up from the kitchen below where an  ecstatic Kitty was making everyone a cup of tea.

'Goodness me.' The midwife's face was a picture as she stood surveying  the happy scene. 'And you say you only had your first pain a couple of  hours ago? This isn't how it's normally done, believe me.'

'Oh, I do,' Beth said in heartfelt tones.

Morgan, who was sitting on the edge of the bed with his arm round Willow  and one hand stroking the downy head of one of his daughters, smiled.  'We've something of a reputation for doing things our own way,' he  murmured lazily. 'Isn't that right, sweetheart?'