Part 6 (2/2)

She moaned, shuddering with need, and Jack's body tightened in response. He wanted her so badly, ached with a l.u.s.t that burned so hotly and so deeply, he feared it might destroy them both.

She was fumbling with her gown. ”Let me,” he said, his voice thick even to his own ears.

She nodded, her cheeks flushed, her lips swollen from their kiss. He quickly undid the remaining ties. He wanted to see her naked, her hair spread about her, her arms and legs open for him-him and no one else.

The thought gave him pause. He was not given to possessiveness; his liaisons were entertainments to be taken as they came, enjoyed, and then left. The freedom of the encounters gave spice to it all.

But with Fiona, it was different. Perhaps it was because she was the only woman he'd ever lost before he'd tired of her. Perhaps it was because she was the only woman who'd ever sent him away. Or perhaps it was something as simple as owners.h.i.+p. She was hiswife. The word sent a possessive thrill through him. His chest expanded at the thought, his body quickening.

The last tie of her gown came free.

With a simple tug at her neckline, Fiona loosened her gown, pushed it wide, and it slid down to her waist, a discarded froth of lace and silk and innocence. She s.h.i.+mmied a bit, kicking away the sheets as she pulled the gown free, and tossed it off the bed.

All she wore was a thin chemise, and the rosebud circles of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s pressed wantonly against the material and made his mouth water.

She sat upright and reached down to undo her boot laces, her chemise pulling lushly over her rounded a.s.s.

Jack admired the curve, his fingers curling at the thought of cupping her to him.

”The laces are knotted,” she muttered, bending down farther to examine the problem. Her hair fell to one shoulder, pins pinging to the floor as the heavy strands fell loose. She sighed with exasperation, then took out the remaining pins and tucked her hair behind her ears.

Jack watched, his heart pounding a bit harder. Her hair was silken and thick, gleaming rich sable in the firelight. He wanted to slide his hands through her hair, sink into the clinging softness.

G.o.d, she was beautiful.

Unaware of his barely held control, she pulled and tugged on the knot. ”Blast it!” she fumed. ”I can't untie them; the laces are in knots.”

He caught her wrist. ”Leave them. I cannot wait.” He pulled her against him hard and took her mouth once more, kissing her deeply as he slid her chemise from her shoulders, pus.h.i.+ng it down her arms, to her waist, and over her boots.

A lace caught on a heel, and he yanked it free, ignoring the tearing sound. Jack slid his arm around Fiona 's waist and lifted her to the center of the bed, where she lay clothed only in her pale skin, glossy hair, silk stockings, and dark blue leather half boots.

Jack stepped back to enjoy the sight before him. There was something about the contrast of her wanton body and the prim boots that stirred him even more. Something about the way her stockings rose from those boots to caress her pale skin and travel up her legs to the middle of her bare, rounded thighs.

Her creamy skin contrasted vividly with the long sable hair fanned over his pillows and the tight curls that hid the secrets between her thighs.

Never had Jack seen anything so enticing, so lovely. She lifted her arms and pulled him to her, her naked chest against his. Jack sank into her embrace, soaking in her sweetness. He tasted her lips, her cheeks, pressing kisses to her slender throat and shoulders. Every inch of her fascinated and intrigued him. Every kiss drew a gasp from her lips and urged him on.

He found her lips again and kissed her deeply, caressing her, exploring her, inhaling her.

She moaned against his mouth, and with that one, primal sound, Jack finally lost control.

He pressed against her, her legs parting beneath his, her hands tugging at him, pulling him closer.

She was intensely aroused; he could see it, smell it, taste it. So turgid he ached, he hooked his hand beneath one of her knees and pulled it high to his waist, his manhood pressing against her soft, damp opening.

Fiona gasped, her head thrown back, her eyes closing. ”Yes!” she said between panting breaths. ”Please!”

Still, he held back. As crazed as he was to be inside her, he wanted her to want him even more.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he pressed himself into her, gritting his teeth as her tight wetness encircled him with the firmness of a gloved hand.

Her lips parted, and she gasped loudly, her eyes flying open to meet his. ”Jack.”

She pressed against him, encouraging him to move faster, her hands tight on his shoulders.

He increased his movements, captured by the pure pleasure of her expression.

”Yes,” she gasped.

Jack moved faster, consumed with the feel of her. She stretched about him, deliciously warm and wet, gasping his name, writhing beneath him, her heels pus.h.i.+ng against his a.s.s, pressing him forward. Sensations spiraled through him at the touch of hard leather, at the sounds of her gasps of pleasure, at the scent of her mingled with lilac.

He hovered on the razor-sharp edge of control.

”G.o.d, yes,” she said, pressing him forward, straining to take even more of him.

One of her leather boots rubbed against his hip, and he groaned at the shock of sensation, erotic pleasure flooding him. As he took her with renewed pa.s.sion, she arched against him, clinging tightly.

”Jack!” she gasped.

The sight of her face, the pleasure that suffused her skin with a flush of pink, forced him to grit his teeth and hold back.

She clutched at his shoulders, lifting her hips, pressing against him, gasping for him to go faster.

In all his life, Jack had never had to fight for control the way he fought now. He'd never before flamed with such pa.s.sion, desired anyone more. It was as if she'd cast a spell on him, making him hers with each touch and gasp.

Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he twined his hands in her hair, clenching his fists about the softness.

Her moans increased, and she moved frantically. He caught her shoulders and pressed deeply into her, holding himself rigidly in place.

Her eyes flew open. Her breath caught. Her lips parted, but no sound came out. Suddenly, she thrust her hips forward, her heels pressing into the backs of his thighs as she came, her waves of tightening pleasure grasping at him, tugging him, making him crazed with l.u.s.t as she gasped his name over and over.

Yet she did not stop. Her o.r.g.a.s.m over, she bucked against him again, pulling him closer with her booted heels, spurring him on.

Jack thrust forward, sinking deeply into her and sending her over the edge once more. With a cry, she arched against him, clamping her legs around his hips as wave after wave of tightness clenched him.

He fell over the pinnacle with her, falling through a tumult of ecstasy, rasping out her name as he finally allowed himself release.

Gasping, he collapsed over her, keeping his weight on his elbows. She quivered below him, her eyes closed, her mouth parted, her face flushed with pa.s.sion.

Jack rolled to his side, pulling her with him, and they lay in a tangle of legs and damp skin, hearts thundering, souls reeling.

Fiona thought she'd never be able to catch her breath, so hard was her heart pounding in her chest. But moment by moment, her heartbeat slowed, and she became aware of Jack's broad chest against hers, the tickle of his breath in her hair, the deliciously sensual slide of his damp skin over hers.

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