With a single-minded determination to see her lost to her own desire, he began the seduction in earnest. The line of her jaw, the delicate shell of her ear, the slender column of her throat—he neglected nothing. With lips, teeth and the gentle stroke of his tongue over her sensitive skin, he tempted her with pure carnality. She was clutching at his shoulders, his arms. Her body arched beneath him, seeking and needy for something she could not name. When she gasped his name he was lost. Again, he claimed her mouth, but the touch was brief, and he was again moving away from her, using his gifted mouth to torment and tease. He parted her wrapper, tugging the fabric aside. He mapped each area that was revealed with the callused pads of his fingers and the heat of his mouth.
Rhys moved back, pulling away from her to remove the last layers concealing her from him, but also to regain some semblance of self-control, but the vision she created was one that would tempt a saint. Her breasts were clearly visible through the thin cotton of her gown. The taut, dusky peaks beckoned his touch. He closed his hands over the tender globes, kneading gently while he drew circles over her budded nipples with his thumbs. She strained toward him, wanting more than the light teasing touch that he had afforded. He increased the pressure, his fingers stroking her pebbled nipples to aching attention. Through the thin fabric he closed his lips over the aching flesh and suckled deeply, increasing the heat and pressure. He tugged at the ties of her gown loosening them, until he could drag the garment down, freeing her breasts to his marauding mouth.
Emme gasped at the feel of his hot mouth on her naked flesh. With each tug of his mouth, she felt an answering pull deep in her belly. She should have been embarrassed. Being nearly naked in front of him should have roused her maidenly sensibilities, but she could think of nothing but the feel of his mouth and his hands on her skin. The languid heat that had pooled there became more insistent, spreading outward to the juncture of her thighs. She pressed her legs together, trying to ease the ache that was building within her. When his teeth scraped lightly over her nipple she sobbed his name, overwhelmed by the fire he stoked within her.
She didn't recognize her own voice when she gasped his name. She could only tremble beneath his questing hands as he took her to new heights of desire. His hand slid over her belly, between her thighs and there was no fear, only the anticipation of something she did not understand. He cupped the mound of her sex, pressing lightly, and she flexed beneath him, countering the thrust of his hand instinctively. Her head fell back and she arched into his touch, eager for more.
Rhys was breathing hard when he parted the slick folds of her sex and stroked her gently. He found the small nub of flesh that was the seat of her pleasure. He caressed it gently, circling it with the pad of his thumb. She shivered and moaned, and instinctively parted her thighs wider, allowing him greater access.
Rhys looked down at her, her face flushed, her lips parted with desire. It was a heady thing to witness the awakening of her passion, but it wasn't enough. He needed to feel the softness of her skin against his own. He rose again, stripping off the remainder of his clothing, eager to feel her softness against him. He rejoined her quickly, resuming the sensual onslaught before any sense of reality could return. That she came willingly into his embrace did not escape his notice.
"Do you trust me?” When she nodded, he claimed her lips again, kissing her until she was dizzy and breathless. “If you wish me to stop, at any point, all you have to do is tell me."
She nodded, still breathless and reeling from his kisses. She could feel the press of his bare chest against her. She couldn't imagine ever wanting it to stop. His skin was smooth and hot to the touch, slightly roughened by the dark hair that swirled over his chest and tapered to a slim line, growing thicker again around his rampant sex. His body fascinated her. She wanted to touch and explore, to learn every inch of his masculine frame, but there was no time as he reclaimed her mouth. The weight and heat of his body against her own was heady. As close as they were, it wasn't enough. She wanted more.
He stroked his thumb over the delicate line of her jaw, his fingers tracing the column of her throat, feeling the staccato rhythm of her pulse. The press of her breasts against his chest was the sweetest torture. He pressed kisses against her jaw, her throat, and into the sweet hollow below her ear, all the while his hands caressed her back, skimming over her hips and down the sinuous curves of her legs. Her skin was like silk, and his blood heated, demanding fulfillment. Unable to wait any longer, he tugged at her night rail, removing the garment entirely, letting it fall forgotten and discarded to the floor.