“Wait,” he whispered, stilling her hand. His gaze met hers, searching. He wasn’t sure what he expected to find—excitement, or perhaps a measure of fear?
But ’twas passion shining in her eyes, and something else he couldn’t put a name to. While he’d never seen such an expression turned his way, Nicholas knew that whatever that soft, delicate thing was, it was good.
And he wanted it just as much as he wanted the delectable woman sprawled so trustingly beneath him.
He brushed his lips gently over her eyelids, sealing her expression forever in his heart. “Are you certain ’tis what you want?”
Catrin nodded and found her voice with difficulty. “Yes,” she murmured, overcoming the urge to turn her eyes away from his, to hide from Nicholas and what he made her feel.
But cowardice had never been her way. “Yes,” she repeated with more determination. “I want to touch you, Nicholas. And more.” Her bravado faltering beneath the questions in his eyes, she slipped her hands under his shirt and smoothed them over his back and shoulders.
He closed his eyes and arched into her stroking hands like a cat, a low moan rising from his throat. “Be very sure, Catrin.” Grasping the neckline of his shirt, he hesitated before drawing the fabric over his head. “’Tis not my intention to frighten you. But I want you very much.”
He pulled the shirt off and tossed it aside. Leaning his weight on his elbows, he framed her face in his hands, his fingers stroking lightly along her temples. “If I do anything you don’t like, or that disturbs you, tell me. I’ll stop.”
A flush of embarrassment crept up her neck. “I want you, Nicholas. Truly.” She ruthlessly curbed the urge to cry. “But I don’t know if I’ll be able to do this.”
He brushed kisses over her forehead, her eyes, her lips. “Whatever you can give me, I’ll take gladly. But my pleasure comes from giving pleasure to you. I just don’t want to do anything to remind you of—” He broke off, his eyes intense.
“Nothing you do will be what he did.” She stroked his shoulders. He looked unconvinced; she wanted to erase the worry from his smoky violet eyes. “I know you would never harm me, Nicholas. I trust you.”
Wrapping her arms around his muscular chest, she whispered, “Show me how it should be.”
He shifted his weight and drew her over to lie beside him. “We’ll learn together. This sharing is new to me, as well.”
His eyes asking her permission, he outlined the edge of the towel with one questing fingertip, pausing in the shadowed cleft between her breasts. Raising her hand, she guided his, and together they separated the fabric.
The linen fell away, exposing her to his gaze. He lay there so long, simply looking, that Catrin began to wonder if he’d changed his mind. “Is something wrong?” she asked, her confidence, fragile to begin with, starting to ebb.
Placing his hands on her stomach, he slowly inched them up her ribs, not stopping until the backs of his fingers were nestled against her breasts. “Nay, not a thing.” His mouth curved into a sweet, devilish smile. “I only wish to savor my good fortune. I’ve never beheld a woman so lovely as you.” He began to gently massage her ribs with his fingers, every stroke pressing his knuckles nearer to her aching nipples.
Catrin drew in a slow breath, battling the urge to grab his hands and raise them the slight distance. But she could see the enjoyment in his face, a glow of anticipation she understood. After all, she’d found herself staring at Nicholas’s magnificent body more than once while they were in the cave.
She knew of no reason why she shouldn’t make him ache, as well. The mere thought stoked the fire in her blood. Her eyes teasing, Catrin raised her hand and wove her fingers in the mat of dark blond curls spread across his chest.
Scraping her fingernails lightly against his skin, she toyed with the wiry hair, drawing ever closer to a coppery nipple nestled in the curls. She was vaguely aware that the motion of Nicholas’s hands on her flesh had intensified, the fire caused by his touch spreading to a place deep within her. Her legs moved restlessly until he wedged his thigh between hers. It seemed he knew what she needed, even if she didn’t.
He flexed his leg, pressing the rippling muscles against her womanhood at the same time he bent his head and took her nipple into his mouth. ’Twas a miracle she didn’t fly straight off the bed from the sensations simmering through her.
Her hand stilled against his chest, all her attention centered on her response to him. He dragged his mouth from her breast, tracing his tongue lingeringly up the column of her throat to her mouth. “Don’t stop now,” he said. He lifted her hand from his chest and nuzzled her palm.
She tried to speak twice before her voice would work, and even then it was faint and husky. “What should I do?” She’d never had—nor desired—the opportunity to give her imagination full rein. As she ran her gaze over Nicholas, garbed only in clinging chausses, the possibilities seemed endless. “I don’t know where to begin.”
“Whatever pleases you,” he murmured, “will certainly please me. Do whatever you wish.” He sucked her finger into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it before nipping lightly at the fleshy tip. All the while he stared into her eyes, his gaze holding her captive and heating her blood. His eyes darkened until they appeared nearly black.
He made promises with that look, promises of pleasure and more.
Catrin tore her own gaze away, not certain what he meant. She’d give him what she could, and take the delight he offered.
Beyond that she refused to think.
Smiling, she leaned toward him, glad to hide her face against his chest so he couldn’t see how flushed she’d become at her boldness. She rubbed her cheek against the soft curls spread across his chest, then nuzzled her way to his nipple.
His body tensed beneath her hand when she closed her teeth delicately over the tiny nub. Pulling her with him, he fell back on the mattress, his fingers threaded through her hair as he urged her to repeat the caress.
She sat back on her heels and rubbed her palms over his torso, moving lower across his stomach with each sweep. She watched his face as she traced the thin line of darker hair bisecting his stomach, savoring the pleasure tautening his features. His eyes were closed and a flush rode high along his cheekbones.
Dear God, but he was handsome!
Growing daring, she leaned over Nicholas and trailed her fingers just inside the waistband of his chausses. His eyes flew open suddenly and, grabbing her about the waist, he lifted her over to straddle him. “You are so beautiful,” he growled, pulling her head toward him and taking her mouth in a consuming kiss.
Their naked flesh pressed together from neck to waist. The soft curls covering his chest rubbed against her already sensitized nipples, sending a rush of heat to pool between her legs.
Nicholas reached down and clasped her tight against his loins. ’Twas enough to make her melt into a puddle of sensation.
All the while he continued to kiss her, his body taking up the same thrusting rhythm as his tongue. He beset her senses on all fronts—her mouth, her breasts, her entire body felt enveloped in Nicholas’s touch, seared by the heat of his passion.
She was vaguely aware of him moving them across the bed. His lips still clinging to hers, he sat up, bringing her with him.
He eased his mouth from hers, nibbling at her lips, then soothing them with his tongue. Finally he sighed and abandoned her mouth. “You’re so sweet,” he said, devouring her with his eyes. He gathered her tousled hair together and nudged it over her shoulder. “So very lovely.” His lingering gaze made her breasts feel heavy, aching for his touch.
He must have seen the yearning in her eyes, for he brought his hand up and caressed her cheek. “Show me what you want. I’m yours to command, but you must tell me.”
Emboldened by his words and the desire etched across his face, Catrin asked, “And what do you want, Nicholas?”
A wry smile on his lips, he shook his head and laughed, the sound more like a groan. “Y
ou’ll not elude me so easily. If I told you everything I want of you, I’d frighten you away. I want to bring you more pleasure than you’ve ever imagined.”
He drew up his knees, causing her to slide forward until she straddled him. Her cheeks flushed. “How can you be shy?” he teased. “Look at you—you’re sitting naked on a hungry man.” He thrust his hips gently beneath her. “And you’ve got him completely in your power.” Leaning forward until his lips were near her ear, he whispered, “I’ll do whatever you like. Tell me.”
He was right. Considering her position, ’twas foolish to be timid.
And she did find the idea of having this handsome, strong, very desirable man at her beck and call extremely appealing.
Tossing back her head, she told him, “Kiss me.”
“I did that already. Surely there’s something else you’d like.”
“I liked it when you kissed me,” she said, staring at his mouth. “Perhaps you could kiss me—elsewhere.” Slipping her hands into his rumpled curls, she drew his head to her breasts.
She felt his lips curve into a smile against her flesh before he captured her nipple in his mouth. He suckled her greedily, caressing her other breast with his fingers. Catrin gave herself over to the sensations, arching her back and pressing him tightly to her.
Nicholas dropped his hands to her waist and lifted her, moving her to fit more closely against his thrusting manhood. He released her nipple, gasping for breath.
His loins were afire, and only Catrin could ease the ache.
God help him if she stopped him now.
He’d likely die of it.
She grasped him by the shoulders, stilling him. He watched in amazement as once again a wave of color washed over her face.
How could she blush now?
Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips, tempting him to take her mouth again. But he waited, eager to discover what had caused the pretty flush still staining her cheeks. “Would you mind—” Her fingers plucked at the drawstring of his chausses. She cleared her throat and began again. “Would you take these off?”
Mind? Was she mad? If he hadn’t been concerned about offending her or frightening her, he’d have removed them long ago, just for the pleasure of feeling her against him from head to toe.
“You do it,” he said, hoping to see that wave of color wash over her again.
He wasn’t disappointed.
She didn’t refuse. She didn’t say anything at all. She answered by lowering her hands to his waist, her trembling fingers plucking at the drawstring.
Impatient now, Nicholas picked her up and sat her next to him, rolling onto his side to give her better access. Her bottom lip caught between her teeth, she worked at the knot, every movement nudging her fingers against his aching flesh.
If she didn’t finish soon, he’d be finished; he’d spill his seed half-dressed, like an inexperienced boy.
He sighed with relief when she finally untied the string, but the torment hadn’t ended yet. Her eyes wide, she began to ease the material down.
Nicholas knew the precise moment Catrin saw his engorged manhood; her swiftly indrawn breath wasn’t quite a gasp, but it came close. Placing his hand beneath her chin, he made her meet his gaze. “I would never hurt you, Catrin.”
“I know that,” she whispered. It wasn’t fear he saw in her eyes, but trust.
He drew her down beside him. “Will it bother you to feel me over you? Or would you rather lie atop me?” He slowly stroked her from neck to waist.
“Nothing you’ve done has frightened me,” she said. She nuzzled at the hair on his chest, then looked up and stared into his eyes. “I know ’tis you, Nicholas. I’ll know it when you’re deep inside me, no matter how we make love. I could never mistake you for anyone else.”
A shudder passed through him. Easing her back against the pillows, he nudged her thighs apart with his, kneeling there so she could become accustomed to him.
His gaze holding hers, he captured her lips, stroking them with his tongue while he slipped his hand between her legs to test her readiness. “Gently, love,” he whispered against her mouth when she started to clamp her legs together. “Do you want me to stop?”
She shook her head and relaxed her legs, allowing him access. Plunging his tongue deep within her mouth, at the same time he slipped his finger into the waiting folds of her womanhood.
Her flesh tightened around him, clasping him gently as slight ripples coursed through her. Reluctantly withdrawing from her warmth, he brushed his damp finger over the tiny nub hidden within the petals of her femininity.
Catrin quivered against his hands, a soft, keening moan rising from her throat Nicholas lowered his weight, spread her folds slightly with shaking fingers and slid his aching flesh deep.
Raising her knees, Catrin arched into him, accepting him fully. The soft, gasping sounds she made nearly sent him over the edge, and he paused, still buried within her, waiting for the urge to spill his seed to pass.
“Nicholas?” she whispered against his cheek, her eyes questioning. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he gasped. “I just want to make this last.” Catrin stared up at him, her eyes a smoky gray, a look of wonder lending her features an ethereal beauty. “How do you feel?”
“Just fine,” she said. She raked her fingernails over his back, nearly undoing his attempt to slow down.
If all she felt was “just fine,” she wasn’t ready yet. He devoted himself to making her feel so wonderful she wouldn’t be able to imagine the words to describe it.
Lowering one hand to toy with her breasts, he began to rock his hips, pressing himself deep within her, then withdrawing slightly. He concentrated on her pleasure, ignoring the scorching heat boiling through his veins to pool in his loins. As her body began to pulse around him he altered the primal drive for completion to a slow, deep quest for mutual fulfillment. He wouldn’t permit himself to reach that pinnacle without her. With lips, hands, body, he drove her toward it, savoring her response and allowing it to carry him along with her.
She was so close. He could hear it in the sounds she made, feel it in the press of her hands, her nails into his flesh. “Look at me, Catrin,” he said urgently, continuing to press deeply into her quivering body. He wanted to watch her when it happened.
He wanted her to watch him.
Her eyelids fluttered open. She gazed at him intently, her body arching to meet his thrusts. Slipping his arm beneath her, he lifted her, holding her more tightly to him.
Nicholas knew the moment it happened, would have known even if he hadn’t felt her body spasm around his own pulsing flesh. Catrin held his gaze, the look in her wide gray eyes touching him to his very soul.
Chapter Twenty
Nicholas’s cry of release still echoing in her ears, Catrin blinked until the room came back into focus. Tears puddled in the corners of her eyes, soaking her eyelashes and running down her temples to soak into her hair. She hated to cry, and the fact that these were tears of pleasure made no difference.
What had she just done? Had she gone mad, to make love with Nicholas Talbot?
She’d realized how wrong she was for him days ago. That hadn’t changed. And doubtless he’d expect certain things of her now, things she couldn’t give.
But dear God, how she wished she could!
She didn’t regret making love with him. How could she be sorry she’d sampled such joy?
She hadn’t known it was possible to feel so intensely..
Although she lay quietly beneath him, inside she fought against a swirl of panic. More than anything, she wanted to push him aside and run—away from her fears, her worries—away from Nicholas.
She didn’t want to be on this bed with him when he opened his eyes.
She didn’t want to hurt him.
It was bound to happen, sooner or later. Catrin knew she’d never be docile, meek, submissive—all the qualities noblemen looked for in their ladies. She might as well get out of this now, b
efore she hurt them both.
Shoving at his broad shoulders, she tried to wriggle out from beneath him. But he raised himself up on his elbows, his mouth seeking hers before he even opened his eyes.
She turned her face away; his lips brushed against her cheek. “Catrin?” Opening his eyes, he held her trapped with his gaze, as well as his body.
“I’d like to get up now, please,” she said, voice flat. She stared past his shoulder at the moth-eaten tapestry on the wall.
If she met his eyes, she’d be lost.
“What’s wrong, love? Tell me.” Grasping her chin in a gentle grip, he tried to turn her to face him.
But Catrin resisted, firming her resolve when her eyes filled with tears again. “If you please, milord.”
“As you wish,” he said shortly, rolling onto his side. After staring at her for a moment, his expression revealing his confusion, he pivoted to sit on the side of the bed.
She scrambled across the mattress and snatched up the coverlet, winding it about her body like a shroud. Her eyes wouldn’t cease their infernal watering. She dashed the moisture away, angry at her lack of control.
Nicholas slipped on his chausses and stood, his eyes on her as he absently tied the drawstring. “Tell me what’s wrong.” He held out his hand, reaching across the mattress. The bed had seemed so small when they were in it, but it loomed large now, when she considered what bridging that distance might mean.
Better to leave while she could, before Nicholas battered down her feeble defenses and she found herself in that bed with him again. It would take very little effort for him to lure her back where she truly wished to be.
She hoped he didn’t realize that
But she couldn’t go just yet, she realized with dismay. Tildy had never brought her clothes. She scanned the chamber for something—anything—she could put on besides the bedcover she wore now. She settled on a mass of white linen at the foot of the bed.
It was Nicholas’s shirt Her feet hampered by the heavy fabric wrapped about her, she shuffled over to the shirt, snatching it up just before Nicholas could.
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