A pearl of moisture appeared at the tip of his penis. Without thought, driven purely by sensation, she lowered her mouth to him and flicked her tongue across his straining flesh. The taste of him sent a thrumming pulse through her body. She could barely believe her daring. She could barely believe his restraint.
Between her thighs his legs vibrated with tiny tremors. She could feel the suppressed power in him even as he allowed her to play her sensual game with his body. The fact that he even permitted her this supremacy over him burned like a white-hot catalyst, and Holly lowered her mouth again, this time closing her lips over his erection, her tongue playing against the very tip, swirling, tasting, suckling him. His passion-filled groan empowered her even further as she took him deeper into her mouth, amazed at her boldness, terrified by her might.
“Stop!” he demanded, and his hands slid to her hair pulling her gently away from him.
“Did I hurt you?” she asked, instantly remorseful.
“No. But not being inside you is killing me.” He swept her off his body and rolled, tucking her beneath him, settling the hard and heavy length of his sex against her. “Open for me,” he demanded, his voice as rough as gravel, his eyes consumed by darkness.
He didn’t need to ask twice. Holly parted her thighs and lifted her hips to meet him, quivering as he entered her and tightening against the strength of his body. If she thought she had any control now she was seriously kidding herself, she realised, as Connor withdrew slowly from her before sinking to the hilt again, grinding his hips against her, inflaming her body. Saturating her mind with sensation after sensation. He pulled away and plunged again, this time lowering his lips to hers and parting her mouth, taking her tongue inside his mouth and pulling against it in the same rhythm.
Her entire body tensed, aflame with feeling and sharply aware of the taste of him, the feel of him, her complete and utter acceptance of his right to be inside her, to be part of her.
Pleasure built with increasing force as his hips ground against her again. No, it was too soon, too much. And then there was nothing but the sensation of intense satisfaction as it rolled through her body, building and building until she cried out with the intensity and bowed against him, cleaved to him, became part of him as he was a part of her.
Deep in the recess of supreme satisfaction, she felt his body grow taut as with a final thrust he breached his own peak and spilled himself into her body until finally, shaking, he lowered himself against her, taking them both into the softness of the mattress and the limbo of the aftermath of their passion.
The late-afternoon sun slanted through the window, bathing them in a golden glow and drying the perspiration on their bodies. Holly didn’t know that she’d ever felt so complete. Connor shifted slightly, taking his weight off her, and tucked her into his side. It struck her in that moment, she was nothing against his will. It didn’t matter what he said or what he did. She loved him, and compounding that love she now carried his child.
Instead of the usual terror rising inside her at the thought of bearing a baby, a sense of warmth and wonder permeated her mind as for the first time she allowed herself to wonder, to dream. What would their baby look like? What would it be?
Languidly she curled into Connor’s body, relishing the warmth, the security. She was no fool. She knew it wouldn’t last. It couldn’t. But for now she could allow herself to pretend.
She drifted off to sleep, locked in the curve of his arms. Maybe, just maybe, she could cope with tomorrow and the day after that.
Connor stirred and opened his eyes slowly. The sun had long since begun its traverse to the other side of the world, and now the bedroom was dark, with long moonlit shadows drawn across the carpet. He inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of Holly’s hair, her skin, the residue of their carnal fervour, and felt his body rouse all over again.
Not yet, he commanded, willing his body to submit to his command, but it was useless. She’d invaded his senses like an aphrodisiac, feeding the craving he’d duelled with, and lost against, since the first addictive taste of her body.
Beside him, she slept deeply, her whole body relaxed for the first time since he’d brought her here. She needed rest far more than she needed to be woken right now. Connor forced himself to ease his body away from hers and to slide from the bed, pausing to pull the covers over her delectable body, then he padded quietly to the en suite. Closing the door behind him, he flicked on the lights before reaching into the shower stall and wrenching on the faucet, leaving the setting at cold. He couldn’t afford to indulge in his baser needs again tonight.
Even though it had been his choice, looking after Holly in the past few days since her sister had died had eaten into him in a way he’d never expected. He had no desire to explore how devastated she was at losing Andrea or how her loss had reminded him of his own desolation at his mother’s death. The only way he’d known how to manage her grief, and his own, was to keep going. To force, to cajole—to place one foot in front of the other to get through every day.