were half closed, languorous, as his fingers brushed lightly over her small, high breasts and found every curve and hardness, every sensual contrast, every texture, as if she fascinated him.
She trembled a little when he turned off the Jacuzzi and let the water out of the tub, especially when he began to sponge away the last traces of soap, and her body was completely revealed to him.
He lifted his dark, quiet eyes to hers and searched them, finding apprehension, fear, awe and delight in their blue depths. “I’ve never bathed a woman before,” he said softly. “Or bathed with one. In some ways I suppose I’m pretty old-fashioned.”
She was breathing unsteadily. “I’ve never let anyone look at me before,” she said in a hesitant tone.
“Yes. I know.” He helped her out of the tub and removed a warmed towel from the rail. It was fluffy and pink, and warm against her skin as he slowly dried her from head to toe. This time she could feel his hands in a new way, and she clutched at his broad shoulders when he reached her hips and began to touch her flat stomach. She felt a rush of sensation that was new and shocking.
“Ward?” she whispered.
He knelt in front of her, discarding the towel and all pretense as he held her hips and pressed his mouth warmly against her stomach.
She cried out. It was a high-pitched, helpless cry, and it made his blood surge like a flood through his veins. His fingers flexed and his mouth drew over her stomach with agonizing slowness, moving up with relentless hunger to her soft, smooth breasts.
She held him there, held his hard, moist mouth over the tip of one, felt him take her inside, warming her. He touched her then in a way she’d never expected, and her breath drew in harshly and she shivered.
“Shhhh,” he whispered at her breast. “It’s all right. Don’t fight me.”
She couldn’t have. She shuddered and trembled, crying as he made the most exquisite sensations felt in the nether reaches of her slender body. Her nails dug into him and she couldn’t help it.
“Marianne,” he whispered, shifting his mouth over hers. He stopped his delicate probing and lifted her in his arms. She felt the soft shock of his footsteps as he carried her to the bed, felt the mattress sink under their combined weights.
His mouth moved slowly back down her to her stomach, her thighs, and then she did fight him, fought the newness and the strangeness and the frank intimacy.
He lifted his head and slid back up to look at her shocked face. “All right,” he said gently. “If you don’t want it, I won’t force you.”
Her face was creamy pink now, fascinated. He looked down at her body, smoothing over it with a lean, very dark hand, savoring its soft vulnerability.
“This is so new,” he whispered. “I never realized how soft a woman’s body really was, how exquisitely formed. I could get drunk just on the sight of you.”
She was trembling all over but not from the soft chill of the room. She felt reckless under his intense gaze.
He looked up into her eyes. “You aren’t protected, are you?” he asked softly.
It took a minute for her to realize what he was asking, and it made the situation take on alarming, very adult implications. To him this was familiar territory. But Mari was a pioneer.
“No,” she whispered unsteadily. “I’m not.”
“It’s just as well,” he murmured, bending to her mouth. “I think…it might spoil things right now to force that kind of total intimacy on you.” His hand smoothed tenderly over her breast as he probed at her trembling lips. “Don’t you want to touch me like this?”
She did, but she couldn’t say it. Her hands went slowly to his shirt and slid under it, finding the exciting abrasion of thick chest hair over warm muscle a heady combination. His mouth moved hungrily against hers at the first tentative touch, and one hand went between them to rip the fabric completely out of the way and give her total access.
His
She trembled a little when he turned off the Jacuzzi and let the water out of the tub, especially when he began to sponge away the last traces of soap, and her body was completely revealed to him.
He lifted his dark, quiet eyes to hers and searched them, finding apprehension, fear, awe and delight in their blue depths. “I’ve never bathed a woman before,” he said softly. “Or bathed with one. In some ways I suppose I’m pretty old-fashioned.”
She was breathing unsteadily. “I’ve never let anyone look at me before,” she said in a hesitant tone.
“Yes. I know.” He helped her out of the tub and removed a warmed towel from the rail. It was fluffy and pink, and warm against her skin as he slowly dried her from head to toe. This time she could feel his hands in a new way, and she clutched at his broad shoulders when he reached her hips and began to touch her flat stomach. She felt a rush of sensation that was new and shocking.
“Ward?” she whispered.
He knelt in front of her, discarding the towel and all pretense as he held her hips and pressed his mouth warmly against her stomach.
She cried out. It was a high-pitched, helpless cry, and it made his blood surge like a flood through his veins. His fingers flexed and his mouth drew over her stomach with agonizing slowness, moving up with relentless hunger to her soft, smooth breasts.
She held him there, held his hard, moist mouth over the tip of one, felt him take her inside, warming her. He touched her then in a way she’d never expected, and her breath drew in harshly and she shivered.
“Shhhh,” he whispered at her breast. “It’s all right. Don’t fight me.”
She couldn’t have. She shuddered and trembled, crying as he made the most exquisite sensations felt in the nether reaches of her slender body. Her nails dug into him and she couldn’t help it.
“Marianne,” he whispered, shifting his mouth over hers. He stopped his delicate probing and lifted her in his arms. She felt the soft shock of his footsteps as he carried her to the bed, felt the mattress sink under their combined weights.
His mouth moved slowly back down her to her stomach, her thighs, and then she did fight him, fought the newness and the strangeness and the frank intimacy.
He lifted his head and slid back up to look at her shocked face. “All right,” he said gently. “If you don’t want it, I won’t force you.”
Her face was creamy pink now, fascinated. He looked down at her body, smoothing over it with a lean, very dark hand, savoring its soft vulnerability.
“This is so new,” he whispered. “I never realized how soft a woman’s body really was, how exquisitely formed. I could get drunk just on the sight of you.”
She was trembling all over but not from the soft chill of the room. She felt reckless under his intense gaze.
He looked up into her eyes. “You aren’t protected, are you?” he asked softly.
It took a minute for her to realize what he was asking, and it made the situation take on alarming, very adult implications. To him this was familiar territory. But Mari was a pioneer.
“No,” she whispered unsteadily. “I’m not.”
“It’s just as well,” he murmured, bending to her mouth. “I think…it might spoil things right now to force that kind of total intimacy on you.” His hand smoothed tenderly over her breast as he probed at her trembling lips. “Don’t you want to touch me like this?”
She did, but she couldn’t say it. Her hands went slowly to his shirt and slid under it, finding the exciting abrasion of thick chest hair over warm muscle a heady combination. His mouth moved hungrily against hers at the first tentative touch, and one hand went between them to rip the fabric completely out of the way and give her total access.
His
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