Smoothing a tendril back from her forehead, Lucian slid his thigh between hers, then hesitated.
A strange tenderness filled him as he gazed down at her shadowed features. This was his wife. The woman he had chosen to be his life’s mate. He had made love to countless other lovers, but this time was somehow different. He was burning with lust, desire, need, yet the feelings rioting through him were more powerful than any he had ever experienced.
And more dangerous. Having Brynn beneath him like this-sexually responsive, incredibly alluring- reminded Lucian of his erotic dreams…
He frowned. Was Brynn right? Was he becoming obsessed with her?
Lucian shook his head. For now he wouldn’t consider the possible danger. Brynn was his bride. His elusive enchantress. He wanted to taste her secrets and make her his forever.
His whisper brushed close against her ear. “Let me make you mine, sweet Brynn…”
With deliberate slowness, he eased over her, spreading her thighs with his own. When he entered her partway, she drew a sharp breath. He held himself still, allowing her to grow accustomed to his alien hardness stretching her, filling her.
Her breath grew harsh when he pressed in a bit farther. “No, don’t tense up, love. Try to soften your body when you take me inside you.”
When he felt her tension ease, he progressed slow increments at a time. This time he felt her wince when her fragile barrier rent, but she made no sound beyond a faint gasp as he sheathed himself the final measure.
For a long moment Lucian didn’t move, pressing soft kisses over her flushed face, her eyelids, cherishing the lush promise of her virginal tightness.
He could feel her softening, warming around him, feel her heated wetness increasing with her renewed arousal.
“Better?” he asked, his control no longer steady.
“Yes,” she said, the word a mere breath of sound.
Lucian forced himself to hold back, to restrain the excitement flaring through his senses. She was moist and hot and insanely inviting, but still innocent and untutored. Calling on all his willpower, he began the slow, exquisite task of bringing her to pleasure, moving gently inside her, using all the skill he possessed to coax a sexual response from her.
She offered no resistance now. When he pressed even deeper, Brynn’s thighs parted to accept more of him. And when he drew back, she tentatively lifted her hips, as if to follow. Lucian clenched his teeth, fighting the scorching hunger of his body.
Traces of the same scorching hunger singed Brynn. The heavy, burning ache inside her was growing, yet it wasn’t pain. It was heat; it was desire. Her entire body throbbed at the feel of Lucian’s hard flesh joined with hers.
Then his mouth dipped to her breasts, kissing her erect nipples, and the twinges of pleasure sharpened. His tantalizing, arousing caresses made her press closer, molding her skin to him as she felt the hot, coiling tension rise, spiraling through her body from the bright center of sensation.
In reward, he sank deeper. She whimpered, wordlessly pleading, helplessly needing. He thrust harder, and Brynn suddenly erupted.
Her senses exploding, she moaned, mindlessly clutching his face to her breasts, frenzied with longing. All she could do was cling to Lucian and endure the storm, a magical whirlwind of fire in the darkness.
Her cries of ecstasy and wonder still echoed softly in the night as he drove himself to his own convulsive climax deep within her. Vaguely she felt his shudders, felt his restrained violence as he moved possessively, forcefully between her thighs. Yet her shaking body seemed to accept his urgency, welcoming him until his final tremors faded.
Dazed, trembling, Brynn fell limply back, shutting her eyes.
It might have been an eternity before she regained enough awareness to feel the gentle kisses Lucian was pressing over her face. He was still buried within her, his breath hot and soft on her skin, while she was still throbbing, pulsing with intolerable pleasure.
“Was that as distasteful as you expected?” he asked, his voice warm with intimacy.
“Not quite,” she breathed, reluctant to admit that he had been right.
His laughter was soft and vibrant, as full of promise as the night air around them. Carefully he eased from her body and gathered her in his arms.
Wincing with twinges of pain, Brynn pressed her face into the smooth, muscular wall of his chest. She could feel his warmth, smell the exciting male muskiness of his skin. His embrace felt unbearably intimate, yet after what had just passed between them, it was rather tame, she supposed.
She was glad he couldn’t see her embarrassment. The caressing darkness had made her cast away all inhibition and logic, turning her into a wild, lustful creature she couldn’t even recognize.
She was stunned by the wonder of a passion she’d never anticipated. She hadn’t realized such a degree of wanton feeling existed. But then her new husband was a captivating man, magnificently virile, seductively male…
Brynn drew a sharp breath.
With very little effort, Lucian had breached her defenses. Like every other woman he pursued, she had succumbed to his disarming tenderness and smoldering sensuality… heaven help him.
Brynn squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to think of the danger. Not now. Not at this incredible moment.
She buried her nose deeper into his chest, wishing she could hide inside him.
“Has any female ever resisted your attempts to charm?” she murmured finally.
“You, love.” His tone was gentle and faintly amused. “You’re the only one I can recall. Except for my mother, perhaps. She was usually immune to my efforts.”
It seemed he could laugh at himself. That surprised her. And worried her. She didn’t want to find anything else appealing about Lucian. Didn’t want to come to like him.
Even so, she was indescribably grateful he had been so considerate of her virginal state, that he had been so gentle with her. He was still being gentle, his fingers drawing lazy patterns on the bare skin of her shoulder…
At last acknowledging that she shouldn’t encourage such familiarity, Brynn edged away, then flinched at the tender throb deep inside her where she’d stretched to accommodate his raw power.
“Perhaps we should return,” he murmured as if he sensed her discomfort. “You would be more comfortable in a real bed.”
Sitting up, she fumbled to straighten her clothing but found it difficult with her mind still in turmoil. In a moment Lucian brushed her fingers aside and helped her dress. Brynn bit her lip at this telltale evidence of his licentiousness. Even in the dark, he knew his way around a woman’s undergarments.
She held her tongue, though, and suffered his attention in silence. When he pressed a kiss on her temple, she pulled away and rose to her feet. She was startled to feel a wetness between her thighs. It was Lucian’s seed, she realized, reminded of the brazen carnal relations they had just shared.
“Wait a moment,” he murmured. “I brought a lantern.”
She could hear him opening the basket and then striking a lucifer. The sudden brightness as he lit a box lantern made her wince, but it was the sight of his naked torso that made her avert her gaze. His lean, muscled frame rippled with fluid strength and sent butterflies curling low in her belly, as well as fresh pulses of sensation throbbing between her thighs.
When he had put on his shirt, he returned the champagne and strawberries and glasses to the basket. Then, gathering the rest of his clothing and the blankets, he handed her the lantern.
“Lead the way,” he said.
She would not look at him as she negotiated the path along the cliff face, or when she accompanied him across the lawn and onto the terrace, heading for the French doors that led to the dimly lit library.
She had just climbed the marble steps when her husband came to a sudden halt.
“Brynn, wait,” he ordered in a low, urgent voice.