He caught her with one arm, wrapping it around her waist, laughing softly as he resumed caressing her. “You always did like that.”
“Yes,” she gasped.
“I remember what else you like.” He let her go, and sank to his knees in front of her, pulling her tea gown and nightdress down as he went, baring her entire body to his gaze—her small waist and generous hips, the gentle swell of her stomach, the triangle of auburn curls at the apex of her thighs, and down her slim, gorgeous legs. Taking a profound, shaky breath, he tilted his head back up. Looking into her eyes, he grasped her hips in his hands, pulled her closer, and pressed a hot, wet, kiss to her stomach.
She moaned low, arching into the kiss, her hands reaching back on either side of her hips to grasp the brass footboard. He moved lower, kissing her navel, and then lower still, pressing his lips to soft red curls.
She let out a soft wail, as his tongue raked over her, tasting her. Then he paused, lifting his head to look into her face. “Remember the first time we did this?” he asked.
She nodded, and her legs parted a little, but he ignored the hint. “You’d never done it.” He laughed a little, his palm gliding over her hip. “It shocked you, I think.”
“Well, of course it did.” Her fingers raked through his hair, pulling him closer, and he relented. He kissed the crease of her sex, stroked it with his tongue. He savored her softness, her taste, the sounds she made. He relished her pleasure as it built and built, and when she was trembling all over, when her body was moving in frantic little jerks and he knew the moment was right, he flicked his tongue over her clitoris, and when she made that soft, sweet wail of feminine ecstasy he remembered so well, he took more pleasure in her climax than he had ever taken in his own.
He kissed her there one more time, and rose to his feet. She let go of the bed at once and wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face against his chest, panting, her breathing ragged and hot against his skin.
He smoothed her hair, and when she pressed a kiss to his chest, his heart twisted, reminding him of all that was in the balance right now, and yet, his body was so tightly leashed, he didn’t know how much longer he could hold out. His hands tangled in her hair, pulling her head back, and he kissed her. “I want you,” he said, and let her go, bending to yank off his shoes and socks. “Do you want me?”
He looked at her again, watched her eyes widen, and he knew she remembered their first time together as vividly as he. How, after months of being held at arm’s length, he’d finally gotten her to admit her desire was as great as his.
“You have to say it,” he reminded her, smiling faintly as he unbuttoned his trousers. “Remember?”
He watched her as he shoved down his trousers and linen and pulled them off. Her lips parted, but as he looked on, she didn’t speak.
“Well?” he prompted, tossing garments aside, standing naked in front of her.
She shoved a lock of hair back from her face and shrugged, trying not to smile. “Well, what?”
He grasped her at the waist, and she gave a shriek of laughter as he lifted her and plunked her bum down on the brass footboard. He pushed, sending her falling backward, and she was laughing before she even hit the mattress, but he was on the bed beside her before she could scramble away. “Want me?” he asked again, capturing her, rolling over her, pinning her with his body.
She was still laughing, but she pressed her lips together, trying to stifle it.
He wasn’t deterred. “Very well. I can wait,” he murmured, and nuzzled her neck. “You know I am a very patient . . .” He paused to kiss her throat. “Very persistent fellow.”
He slid his arms beneath hers, resting his weight on his elbows, settling himself, and though his cock was hard as stone between her thighs and he was shaking inside from the effort of holding back, he strove to pretend he was shipshape and Bristol fashion. “Do you want me?”
He flexed his hips, sliding his cock against her, a long, slow, teasing slide.
“Denys,” she gasped, and her hips rolled against his, but he held out, not entering her.
“You have to say it.” When she didn’t speak, he slid his body down a bit, eased his hand between them, and touched her. “Admit it. You want me.”
“Oh,” she moaned, and he relished the sound.
“Not laughing now, are you?” he murmured, stroking her.
“Stop teasing.”
“I think you’re the one teasing,” he said, the tip of his finger sliding up and down, in and out of her.
“I don’t know what you mean,” she gasped, shivering with the wicked excitement of this game.
“Yes, you do. Say it, Lola, say it.”
“All right, yes, I want you,” she gasped, jerking her hips, trying to urge him on. “I want you.”
He pulled his hand back a bit, until only the tip of his finger touched her. Gently, he caressed her, circling her clitoris with the tip of his finger, then drawing back. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” she panted. “Yes, yes. Come inside me. Now, Denys, now. I want you so much, I can’t bear it.”
He shook his head, holding back, for even her desire was not enough. To get what he really wanted, he had to bring her to the very edge. Drawing a deep breath, he pulled back so that he could look into her face. “I love you,” he said, sliding the tip of his finger inside her. “Do you love me?”
She didn’t answer, and he pulled back, causing her to moan in protest. Her hips lifted as she tried to follow his hand, but he didn’t let her have that scrap of satisfaction. “Do you love me?”
She was panting, desperate, her eyes closed. She nodded.
“Not good enough. You have to say it.” He teased again, caressing, pulling back. “Do you love me?”
She was whimpering now, desperate, mewling sounds of need, but he did not relent. “Do you, Lola? Love me?”
“Yes,” she cried on a sob. “I love you, Denys. I’ve always loved you.”
That was everything he needed to hear. He kissed her hard, withdrew his hand, and entered her fully. “Love you,” he told her, thrusting deep. “Now, and always.”
She cried out, clenching tight around him, pushing with her hips, urging him on, but he wasn’t about to let her set the pace. He fought to hold back, making each thrust just a bit deeper than the one before, building the pleasure, until at last, she came.
He was right behind her, climaxing in a white-hot rush of pleasure so intense, it seemed as if his entire body were on fire. The shudders rocked him, again and again, until at last, they subsided, and he stilled, his body easing down on hers, his breathing hard, mingling with hers in the hush of afternoon.
At last, he lifted his head. “There now,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her mouth, “was that so hard?”
He eased back, curling his arms beneath her, his weight on his elbows, but when he looked at her, his throat went dry, and his heart hurt, because she had never looked more beautiful than she did right now.
In the crack of sunlight that filtered between the closed drapes, her skin was flushed a delicate pink, the locks of her hair were like tongues of fire against the white sheets, and on her lips was the drowsy hint of a smile.
“So, now that we’ve both admitted the truth,” he murmured, pushing a tendril of hair back from her cheek, “what shall we do about it?”
Chapter 21