trembling fingers.’
But as he peeled his dark sweater over his head Ashley thought he sounded bemused—as if his fingers weren’t usually given to trembling.
She watched him undress—mesmerised as he gradually revealed his magnificent body to her rapt gaze. A silk shirt fluttered forgotten to the floor to lie beside his discarded jeans and a pair of boxers tumbled on top—until at last he stood there in all his naked magnificence. Every sinew and nerve fibre was drawn in delicious detail beneath the burnished surface of his dark skin and she was acutely aware of the dormant power in his large frame.
‘You don’t look away,’ he observed softly as he cameacross the room towards her. ‘No shyness now, then, Ashley?’
Would it make her sound shameless if she admitted that there was none at all? That this seemed as natural to her as breathing—despite her inexperience? As if she was poised on the edge of a discovery—about to be initiated by the man whom she had grown to adore. In her mind, she tested out the word. Wasn’t ‘adore’ too mild a description of her feelings for Jack? Didn’t
love
fit the bill much better? She shook her head as her eyes drank in his unashamed arousal. ‘No.’
‘And no fear?’
She shook her head. ‘No—definitely no fear.’
He gave a soft laugh as he joined her on the bed, pulling the soft cloud of the duvet over them, so that their bodies were warm and close beneath it. ‘You are a constantly evolving series of revelations,’ he murmured. ‘Time after time you surprise me—this hardened sceptic who had never thought that he might be surprised by a woman again. I’m worried that you’re suddenly going to come to your senses and wonder what the hell you are doing here in bed with me.’ He began to pull the grips from her hair and stroked it as it fell freely onto the pillow. ‘Mightn’t you?’
She stared up into his face, touched the tips of her fingers against the hard rasp of his jaw and felt it graze them slightly. ‘No, Jack,’ she whispered as she moved to trace the softer flesh of his lower lip, and to linger there. She loved him, she realised—as she leaned her face a little closer. ‘You won’t get any doubts from me.I’ve… I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.’
‘Oh, Ashley,’ he remonstrated on a murmur. ‘Didn’t anyone ever teach you to hide what you really meant with layers of subterfuge? Don’t you realise that’s part and parcel of being a woman?’
She heard the unmistakable regret as he asked it, when surely regret had no place between them—not when they were doing something like this? Faint misgivings skittered over her skin—and maybe he noticed her brief frown because he leaned forward and brushed his lips over hers.
‘Forgive me my cynicism,’ he said in an odd voice. ‘Do you think you can do that?’
She looked up at him and felt her heart swell with love and trust. ‘Of course I can,’ she whispered, reaching her hands up to his face. ‘I think I can forgive you anything, Jack.’
For a moment a terrible tortured look crossed over his dark features—and she wondered what she’d said wrong—but the look was quickly replaced by desire. He bent his head and his sudden urgent kiss drove away all her questions and left nothing but a dreamy longing. She felt the longing build as he began to stroke her body, his practised touch making her move restlessly beneath his fingers.
‘You’re still wearing your bra,’ he observed unevenly.
‘So… so I am.’
‘And your panties.’
‘Yes.’
‘I think we ought to do something about that, don’t you?’
With one hand, he unclipped her bra and then slid her briefs down over her trembling thighs. ‘You know that your skin,’ he said unevenly as his lips brushed over the hollow at the base of her throat, ‘is like purest silk.’
‘Is it?’
‘Mmm. If I could make a shirt from it, I’d never take it off.’
‘Jack. ‘
‘Mmm?’ He
But as he peeled his dark sweater over his head Ashley thought he sounded bemused—as if his fingers weren’t usually given to trembling.
She watched him undress—mesmerised as he gradually revealed his magnificent body to her rapt gaze. A silk shirt fluttered forgotten to the floor to lie beside his discarded jeans and a pair of boxers tumbled on top—until at last he stood there in all his naked magnificence. Every sinew and nerve fibre was drawn in delicious detail beneath the burnished surface of his dark skin and she was acutely aware of the dormant power in his large frame.
‘You don’t look away,’ he observed softly as he cameacross the room towards her. ‘No shyness now, then, Ashley?’
Would it make her sound shameless if she admitted that there was none at all? That this seemed as natural to her as breathing—despite her inexperience? As if she was poised on the edge of a discovery—about to be initiated by the man whom she had grown to adore. In her mind, she tested out the word. Wasn’t ‘adore’ too mild a description of her feelings for Jack? Didn’t
love
fit the bill much better? She shook her head as her eyes drank in his unashamed arousal. ‘No.’
‘And no fear?’
She shook her head. ‘No—definitely no fear.’
He gave a soft laugh as he joined her on the bed, pulling the soft cloud of the duvet over them, so that their bodies were warm and close beneath it. ‘You are a constantly evolving series of revelations,’ he murmured. ‘Time after time you surprise me—this hardened sceptic who had never thought that he might be surprised by a woman again. I’m worried that you’re suddenly going to come to your senses and wonder what the hell you are doing here in bed with me.’ He began to pull the grips from her hair and stroked it as it fell freely onto the pillow. ‘Mightn’t you?’
She stared up into his face, touched the tips of her fingers against the hard rasp of his jaw and felt it graze them slightly. ‘No, Jack,’ she whispered as she moved to trace the softer flesh of his lower lip, and to linger there. She loved him, she realised—as she leaned her face a little closer. ‘You won’t get any doubts from me.I’ve… I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.’
‘Oh, Ashley,’ he remonstrated on a murmur. ‘Didn’t anyone ever teach you to hide what you really meant with layers of subterfuge? Don’t you realise that’s part and parcel of being a woman?’
She heard the unmistakable regret as he asked it, when surely regret had no place between them—not when they were doing something like this? Faint misgivings skittered over her skin—and maybe he noticed her brief frown because he leaned forward and brushed his lips over hers.
‘Forgive me my cynicism,’ he said in an odd voice. ‘Do you think you can do that?’
She looked up at him and felt her heart swell with love and trust. ‘Of course I can,’ she whispered, reaching her hands up to his face. ‘I think I can forgive you anything, Jack.’
For a moment a terrible tortured look crossed over his dark features—and she wondered what she’d said wrong—but the look was quickly replaced by desire. He bent his head and his sudden urgent kiss drove away all her questions and left nothing but a dreamy longing. She felt the longing build as he began to stroke her body, his practised touch making her move restlessly beneath his fingers.
‘You’re still wearing your bra,’ he observed unevenly.
‘So… so I am.’
‘And your panties.’
‘Yes.’
‘I think we ought to do something about that, don’t you?’
With one hand, he unclipped her bra and then slid her briefs down over her trembling thighs. ‘You know that your skin,’ he said unevenly as his lips brushed over the hollow at the base of her throat, ‘is like purest silk.’
‘Is it?’
‘Mmm. If I could make a shirt from it, I’d never take it off.’
‘Jack. ‘
‘Mmm?’ He
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