Part 18 (1/2)

”Ah, ah,” he warned softly. ”I told you not to move. Your ankle, remember?”

But she hadn't, she realized. She'd forgotten all about her sprain, his touch so enthralling it had driven everything else from her mind.

She forced herself to lie still, biting her lip as she waited for him to continue.

”Good girl,” he said. ”I believe you deserve a reward.”

Slowly, he opened her, parting her like the petals of a flower as he slipped inside. Delving steadily, he eased in one long finger, first to the knuckle, then as far as it would go.

A cry burst from her lips as her inner muscles clenched around him in welcome.

But even that wasn't enough.

She needed more. And he knew it-the devil.

With a smile that rivaled Mephistopheles himself, he waited, watching as they both felt her body grow even slicker around him.

He stirred his finger inside her, circling as he ma.s.saged her inner flesh in the most astonis.h.i.+ng way. He slid his finger out, then in again to stroke her anew.

Her nipples tightened, throbbing along with the rest of her. As if sensing their need, Leo reached out and took one bud between his thumb and forefinger. He squeezed, ripples of half pleasure, half pain cascading through her as he fingered her harder between her thighs.

Without warning, he added a second digit, filling her, stretching her so that she trembled and moaned.

”Ah, G.o.d!” she cried, everything narrowing in that moment to the sensation of his fingers moving over her and in her. He pinched her nipple again, then fondled her breast. He did the same to her other breast as he continued stroking fast and deep inside her.

Suddenly, he added his thumb below where her most sensitive flesh wept for his every touch and then she started to shake.

Rivers of bliss poured through her, pleasure unlike any she had ever known coursing in rivulets through her veins. Her mind grew dull from the surfeit of delight.

Then everything went utterly and completely black.

Leo watched Thalia take her release and thought it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

She is magnificent.

Her skin was flushed and rosy, her lips parted on a sigh of blissful satisfaction, her eyes closed, lashes inky black against the creamy glow of her cheeks. She looked disheveled and well pleasured, and he should know, since he was the one who had pleasured her.

As for him, his shaft was swollen and throbbing, aching to be as thoroughly appeased as she. But much as he wanted to unb.u.t.ton his trousers and slide between her milky white thighs to take his ease, he knew she was in much too delicate a state to withstand such vigorous play. He'd pushed the limits as it was-her injured ankle somehow still miraculously tucked in its nest of plush pillows, apparently no worse for their amorous activities.

For now, he needed to let her heal-let himself heal for that matter, since the st.i.tches in his arm had been tugged and tested enough for one night.

But this was only the beginning. And considering how long he'd already waited, he supposed he could wait a while longer. Especially now that he'd had a taste of her honey.

Lord, she was sweet.

And responsive.

Though strangely, he had to wonder as he watched her doze lazily against the pillows, how s.e.xually experienced she really was.

She wasn't a virgin, of course; that much was clear. Yet she'd seemed so surprised by her reactions to his touch, dawning amazement sweeping over her features as he'd carefully built her desire to greater and greater heights. It was as if tonight was the first time she'd ever truly been aroused. The first time she'd ever found real completion.

If that was true, her former husband must have been a complete lout in the bedchamber. Then again, far too many men were dreadful lovers, concerned for nothing but their own selfish pleasure. When he made love to a woman, he always made sure she claimed as great a share of the satisfaction as he did himself.

He'd lost his own virginity at sixteen to a very experienced, very adventurous widow who'd taught him well the importance of taking care of a bedmate's needs. Increasing his lover's pleasure, he'd learned, inevitably served to increase his own.

He'd put those skills to excellent use in the years since he and his widow had gone their separate ways. He rarely thought of her now-she'd remarried and gone to India, last he'd heard-but he owed her a debt of grat.i.tude for tutoring him so expertly.

Perhaps she was the reason he still preferred older women?

He studied Thalia again, her features ethereally lovely in repose.

What a puzzle she was. A beautiful, mysterious conundrum that demanded to be solved. The longer he knew her, the less about her he really understood.

”Who are you, Thalia?” he whispered, reaching out to brush a wisp of dark hair off her cheek.

She sighed and rolled her head toward him, still asleep.

He wished he could strip off his clothes and climb into the bed beside her. But tonight was not the night.

Soon.

Very soon he would come to her bed, now that they were lovers. And she would find herself satisfied again-well and often.

With gentle efficiency, he smoothed her nightgown down her legs and b.u.t.toned her bodice over the glorious b.r.e.a.s.t.s he had so enjoyed kissing and fondling. His fingers slowed briefly as he forced himself to fasten the last one before all his good intentions turned to dust.

He stood and reached for the bedclothes, pulling them up to her chin to tuck her in once more. Bending low, he brushed a soft kiss over her lips.

”Leo? Is that you?” she murmured, stirring beneath the sheets.

”Yes.” He stroked his hand over her hair. ”Sleep. I shall see you tomorrow.”

”Tomorrow,” she repeated sleepily, her eyelids already drifting closed again.

Smiling, he allowed himself one last look, then turned and left.

Chapter 16.

Thalia awakened the next morning with a smile on her face.

She'd slept deeply. Peacefully. Better than she had in too long to remember.

And the dreams.

She'd had the most amazingly wonderful dreams. Lush and vivid and so intense they'd almost seemed real.

Lord Leo had been in them, kissing her and doing all manner of other things that made the blood turn hot in her veins to remember. Things that made her imagination run wild even now.