The Country Wife by Temple Hogan Page A

he was as moved by this moment as she.
    “Lilli,” he murmured raggedly. “Do you know what I feel for you?”
    “Aye,” she said breathlessly. “I know for I feel the same.”
    “Lass.” He pulled her closer, his arms melding her body to his while he rained kisses over her face and throat. “I want you, wife,” he rumbled softly against her ear. He hovered above her. “I’ve wanted to make love to you since I first opened my eyes and glimpsed your angel face peering at me. You’ve possessed my thoughts. Now you’re mine.”
    She closed her eyes to concentrate on the sensations he aroused then opened them again, unable to bear not seeing his face above her.
    His large, warm hands stroked over her skin, following every curve until he shifted so he could cup each breast and lower his mouth to the throbbing tips. When she could bear the sensations no longer, he slid his mouth down over her stomach, making her tense her muscles until he reached her crotch. His fingers parted her as his lips pressed against her clitoris. She drew a sharp breath and buried her fingers in his hair to push him away. She’d never dreamed men and women did such things. Instead, her hands drew him closer, and she moaned, surprised the sound came from her.
    Tension built within her like a scream that must be released and can’t be. His hand dipped, gently spreading her legs, stroking her thighs, dipping deep within her. His fingers touched where no man had ever touched before and she started, rearing up, but he pushed her back, raining kisses on her mouth and throat and breasts until she lay supine and helpless beneath his caress. He took her hand and guided it to him, and she felt the hard smoothness of his erection and was mesmerized. Fumbling in her inexperience but growing bolder with curiosity and need, she explored his shaft and gently stroked him. He groaned, and she felt a singeing in her veins.
    He fondled her and she arched, craving his touch against her moist flesh. She opened to his caress and gasped with pleasure. He moved his hand against her, and she was flooded with sensations that she never wanted to end, else she would cease to breathe. Her hand tightened on him, and he shuddered. Excited at the discovery of how she might give him pleasure, she moved her hand in the same rhythm he used.
    “Have a care, lass,” he gasped. “A man has only so much will power.”
    He rose above her. She felt his shaft brush against her quivering flesh and tried to move closer. She could never be close enough, she realized.
    “Aye, you’re ready. Well, I know, but you’re a virgin and I have no wish to hurt you.”
    “I know what must come now. I’m ready.”
    Her hands pushed against his taut buttocks, urging him to her. He held himself inches away from that culmination, resting his weight on his elbows. She turned her head in frustration, but his large hands captured her head and turned her so she must gaze into his eyes.
    “There will be some pain, lass, but it will pass,” he whispered. “I will not use you hard.”
    She couldn’t speak. Her heart was too full. He held her gaze as he slowly entered her, his eyes shadowed with passion. She felt his hardened shaft fill her and arched her back to meet him. Never. Never had she guessed it would be like this, so all consuming, so needful—more than a need for a drink of water, more than the need for sunlight and air. He moved against her, stroking deeper within her and she felt the first tug of resistance from her own body.
    She gazed into his eyes and saw an unspoken question forming there.
    “Don’t stop,” she gasped. She craved that he go deeper, to reach that untouched core of her that clamored for him.
    “Are you all right, lass?” he whispered.
    “Aye, don’t stop,” she whispered and stiffened when he thrust forward. She felt pain but was too besotted with passion to protest. She crooned her acceptance of it. He held himself still.
    “‘Twill pass in a moment,”