[Barbara Samuel] Night of Fire(Book4You) by Unknown

accommodate his thrusting tongue with an instinct she had not known she had. The tingling restlessness in her body expanded, rushing over her arms and spine, rippling over her buttocks and the backs of her knees, shimmering through her hands that curved to fit the shape of his shoulders.
    They gasped together, then fell again into the heat of it. The force made them stumble, and he braced himself on the wall, pressing hard into her. And even then, even then, Cassandra only wanted more. Only wanted Basilio, the feeling of him like the gilded light falling on her eyelids. She touched him eagerly, his arms and face and hair, his back. He slid down a little, lifting her so he could kiss her throat.
    "This place draws my eye," he murmured, and kissed it, chin to collarbone, lingering, tasting, his tongue drawing a line across that and back. Her breasts felt heavy and thick, and in a gesture she would have thought beyond her, she grabbed his hand and settled it, over her breast.
    His hand moved gently, his bare fingers brushing the flesh over her bodice, his thumb going exactly where she wanted it, over that tight, burning nipple. She could not help the small sound that came from her at that, and she closed her eyes, astoundingly dizzy. He kissed her again, his mouth soft, plying, teasing over her lips, his tongue a heated flicker at the corner, at the bow, at the very center of her lower lip, and he stroked her breast as he kissed her, kissed her and teased that place, until all at once Cassandra was aware that her thighs felt wet. "Basilio, take off your coat!"
    He obliged, shucking it, dropping it to the ground, and then the waistcoat. She opened the ties at his neck, then put her hands below the shirt hem to touch his bare back, his sides. His chest. His skin was like butter beneath her fingers.
    And then they were kissing again, and it grew wilder, more heated, their breath hot and hurried, their hands eager, dancing, exploring. Basilio bent with a soft moan to kiss her neck, and suckled lightly, then harder. All at once, his hand, which must have been working her skirt upward as they kissed, fell on the back of her bare thigh, and his sex aggressively pushed into her belly.
    Cassandra froze. Desire gave way to panic and she struck out with her fists, cuffing his shoulders, his head. "Basilio, stop!"
    He released her instantly and stood back. Cassandra stared at him as a wave of trembling overtook her, so violent she could not even stand. Her knees gave away and she sank to the ground, her shaking hands over her face. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
    "My God, Cassandra!" He stepped forward, reached for her, then squatted close, not touching her. "I do not want to frighten you more. I only want to put my arms around you, to stop your trembling." He crept closer. "Will that be all right?"
    Cassandra clasped her hands more tightly over her face, appalled that he should see her this way, that anyone should see her so revealed.
    She did not cry. Would not. She pressed her hands close to her eyes and held the scream in her throat, and when his hand touched her shoulder, she startled so violently she scraped her elbow on the wall.
    Very carefully, he touched her arm, then the other. When she didn't pull away—for she did most desperately want to lean into him—he gave a soft, mournful cry. "Oh, love," he whispered, and took her into his arms, tucking her head on to his shoulder. "He must have been very cruel. I am so sorry, Cassandra." He held her close, whispering into her hair. "So very, very sorry."
    She trembled even more violently, and hated herself for it. Yet she was so weak, and he was so gentle, she could not seem to make herself stand, straighten her clothes, and forget this.
    As if he understood that, he only sat on the grassy ground, holding her close, rocking her a little. "Do you want to tell me about him? Was it your husband?"
    She had never spoken of it, not even to her sisters. Nor did she ever, ever allow herself to be