Burying his face against her damp, sweet-smelling hair, Chris savored the delicate curves of her body. He had spent a restless night tossing and turning on the large bed until he finally left it to spend the night sitting on the veranda, where he watched the fog roll in off the water to blanket the entire area with a heavy haze.
You don’t own me. No man owns me.
Her words had tortured him relentlessly. He did not want to own her. All he wanted to do was love her—now and for all eternity.
He had wasted years not letting her into his life, watching her interact with other men. Even though she’d been in love with him, she’d still dated others. One had even proposed marriage. And even if she had slept with any of them, it still would not have mattered to Chris. What was important was now, not the past.
“Yes, baby?” he crooned, pressing his groin against the fullness of her hips.
“What…what are you doing?” Her voice came out in a strangled gurgling.
He tightened his arms around her body. “It’s what I want to do.”
Closing her eyes, she went pliant in his embrace. “What do you want?”
“I want you,” he whispered, his breath hot against her ear.
Emily covered his hands with hers, pulling his arms from around her waist. Slowly she turned and stared up at him as he lowered his chin slightly, then met her gaze. His stare, though calm, was lethal. Lethal enough to elicit a feeling of extreme apprehension in her. And it was not for the first time that she thought Chris was hiding something. Was there a dark side that he camouflaged with a practiced smile and impeccable manners?
Chris noticed the slight fluttering in her throat and wondered whether he was moving too quickly. He had told her that the decision to sleep together would be hers. But he did not know how long he could continue to sleep under the same roof with Emily and not go a little crazy. How many more nights could he go without sleep until sheer exhaustion took over?
Reaching up, she looped her arms around his neck. “And I want you.”
He stood completely still, his hands at his sides. “Are you sure, mi amor?”
“More sure than I’ve ever been in my life.” And she was. She had waited eighteen years for this moment. A moment wherein she would willingly offer him her love and body.
Rising on tiptoe, she pressed her breasts to his chest as her lips searched for his. Her kiss was as soft as a whisper—a breath of wind across his mouth.
A rush of heat raced through Chris, eliciting a throbbing in his groin that he was helpless to control. His world stood still. Nothing mattered—nothing except Emily Kirkland. He had spent so many years loving her, wanting her, that he feared moving because he did not want this to be a dream wherein he’d wake to find himself alone with just his fantasies.
Her mouth tasted, teased, tantalized until the blood roared in his head, until he was nearly blinded by the lust spinning out of control.
His hands moved up and cupped her shoulders, bringing her closer. He wanted to drown in her feminine fragrance as he tightened his hold on her body. Her seduction ended when his tongue plunged into her open mouth, staking its claim.
He did not kiss her mouth but devoured it. And as his kisses became more demanding, Emily felt herself succumbing to the mastery of his lovemaking. His hunger was communicated to her and her hands moved from his neck, under his shoulders, her fingers gripping the fabric of his T-shirt so she could maintain her balance.
She returned his kiss with reckless abandon, her tongue meeting and curling around his, moving in and out of his mouth in a slow, rhythmic, erotic cadence.
A rush of liquid bathed the hidden place between Emily’s legs, signaling that she was ready for his possession. Her arousal was so swift that she would have collapsed to the floor if Chris hadn’t tightened his grip on her shoulders.
Pulling back, he stared at her flushed face. Desire had added a sheen to her dewy skin and darkened her luminous eyes to a jade green. Bending slightly, Chris swung Emily up in his arms and walked out of the kitchen in the direction of her bedroom as she buried her face against his shoulder.
It’s her first time. She’s never been with another man. The words swirled in his head as he entered her bedroom and placed her on the bed. The imprint of her head on one pillow was still visible. His gaze swept over the embroidered sheet folded back at the foot of the large bed. The sheets on Emily’s bed weren’t rumpled and twisted, unlike his own. She had spent the time sleeping, while he hadn’t.
He lay down beside her, then pulled the sheer netting around them to create a cloistered, sensual retreat. She offered him a shy smile, lowering her gaze demurely. The gesture was so enthralling that it sucked the air from his lungs.
Pulling her against his chest, he pressed his lips to her forehead. “I don’t want to frighten you or hurt you, Emelia.”
“I’m not frightened,” she mumbled against his throat. And she wasn’t. Not when she’d waited so long for him. Not when she loved him so much.
“Good.” Anchoring his forefinger under her chin, he raised her face to his. “If I do something that makes you feel uncomfortable, then I want you to tell me to stop. Okay?”
She nodded, smiling. “Okay.”
That was the last word she remembered as she closed her eyes and gave herself up to the man who was sharing her bed. She felt his gentle touch when his fingers searched under her tank top and covered her breasts. The sheer fabric of her bra was like a second skin as her nipples sprang into prominence under his sensual ministration. She caught her breath, then let it out slowly when he deftly unhooked the snap and bared the mounds of flesh. He cradled them gently between his palms, seemingly assessing their firmness and weight, as if he were examining pieces of lush, ripe fruit to purchase.
Lowering his head, his mouth replaced his hands, causing her to arch off the mattress. Chris told Emily he didn’t want to frighten her when he was frightened, frightened that it had become his responsibility to introduce her to a world of sexual pleasure. It was up to him to teach her to become familiar with her own body in order for her to derive the ultimate sexual fulfillment.
He kissed her taut nipples, teased them between his teeth, then drew circles around the areola with his tongue. She moaned softly, her breathing quickening. She attempted to touch him, but he held her wrists.
“Don’t touch me,” he ordered softly. “Not yet.”
Swallowing to relieve the dryness in her throat, Emily nodded through a haze of rising desire. “Okay,” she gasped when she finally recovered her voice.
Everything seemed to unfold in slow motion as Chris relieved her of her top, bra and shorts. There was a slight hesitation when he hooked his fingers in the waistband of her bikini panties and eased them off her hips and down her legs.
Emily opened her eyes and found him sitting back on folded knees, staring at her naked body. Every place his obsidian gaze touched brought a wave of heat and lingering fire.
“You’re magnificent.” There was no mistaking the awe in his voice. His lids fluttered closed. “You’re more perfect than I could’ve ever imagined.” He opened his eyes, his enraptured gaze meeting hers.
Her gaze widened when he reached down and pulled his T-shirt over his head, baring a broad chest covered with a profusion of thick, dark, curling hair. The power in his upper arms was apparent by the smooth flexing of muscles with the gesture. His hands went to the waistband of his cutoffs, and in one smooth motion the denim fabric and his briefs had settled around his knees.
Fluidly, and with a minimum of motion, Chris divested himself of his clothes and lowered his body over Emily’s, supporting his weight on his elbows. He settled her legs between his, his hardening sex pressing against the mound hiding her femininity from him. She gasped slightly as he increased the pressure until their bodies were joine
d from chest to knees.
He wanted her to get used to his greater weight, the texture of his skin, and the difference between their bodies. Reaching down, he caught her left hand and placed it over his hip.
“Touch me, Emelia.”
Her fingers traced the curve of his firm buttocks, a smile curving her lush mouth. “I like the way you feel.”
“You feel a lot nicer than I do,” he countered, his fingers feathering down her chest, over a breast and to her belly.
“That’s debatable,” she whispered against his mouth. Curving her arms around his neck, she pressed a kiss against his firm lips, closing her eyes and reveling in the sensations coursing through her body. She kissed his upper lip, then caught the lower one between her teeth, pulling it gently into her mouth before her tongue traced the outline of his strong, masculine mouth.
A noticeable shudder racked Chris from head to toe when the fire from Emily’s lips was transferred to his. Her mouth was doing things to him that he did not want to feel—not yet. He wanted their first time together to be special, her first time to be wonderful, but if he didn’t stop her, it would become a libidinous coupling instead of a gentle session of lovemaking.
He loved her, loved her too much to take her without tenderness.
He tore his mouth from her tantalizing lips and moved down her body, tasting flesh in his journey southward. Her fingers gripped his hair, but the shortened strands did not allow her a firm hold. He moaned softly when her fingernails sank into his scalp, but he forgot the discomfort once he parted her knees. Then he buried his face against the soft down at the juncture of her thighs.
Her soft whimpers of rising passion fired his blood. His rapacious tongue searched and found the small, engorged nodule of flesh and he worshipped it, alternating flicking his tongue over it with catching the nectar flowing from her virginal well of sensual delight.
Emily felt as if she had stepped outside herself and become a reluctant observer instead of a willing participant. Nothing she had ever shared with any man came close to what she was experiencing with Christopher Delgado. After she had recovered from the fact that he had put his head between her thighs, she was quickly assailed by the rush of desire shattering her dormant sexuality. Shivers of delight shook her body, and there was no way she could disguise the moans of ecstasy slipping through her compressed lips. Her whole being was flooded with a desire that threatened to drown her.
Her body vibrated with a fire that swept away all her doubts and fears that the man lying between her legs did not love her as much as she loved him. Her body went completely limp as she surrendered completely to his masterful seduction. Tears leaked from under her tightly closed lids, staining her flushed cheeks.
Without warning it happened; the soft pulsing grew stronger, more intense. The measured vibrations shook her, and she arched off the mattress.
Chris realized Emily was reaching the point of no return and slid up the length of her body, a finger replacing his tongue. He held her tightly, his hand motionless, feeling the throbbing flesh around his finger abate slightly.
Emily’s tear-filled eyes opened and she stared at him. There was no mistaking her puzzlement. Chris pressed his lips to her thoroughly kissed mouth, permitting her to taste herself.
“I want to teach you to control your body so you can prolong fulfillment to the last possible moment.” He moved his finger slightly in the tight opening. A sensual smile crinkled his eyes when she closed hers, gasping. “That’s it, baby.” He increased the rhythm, taking her to the point where she cried out for release, but he would not relent.
Emily’s chest heaved as she labored for each breath, writhing against his hand in an ancient rhythm as old as time itself. Her emotions whirled; her senses exploded as her passion escalated. “No more,” she pleaded. “Please, no more.”
Chris wanted to join her in her dance of desire, but decided not to. Not this time. He would sacrifice himself and not pour out his passions in her soft, scented body in order to offer her a selfless pleasure. The next time would be his—theirs.
He increased the rhythm and she pulled back, trying to escape. He eased another finger into her narrow opening. She opened her mouth to scream, but he covered it with his own, capturing and swallowing her breath as she breathed her ardor into his mouth.
His hand was sandwiched between their moist bodies, fingers coated with the liquid flowing from her still-pulsating flesh. The turbulence of her passion had shocked him. Emily would become an extraordinary lover.
Withdrawing his fingers, he reversed their positions and she lay over his chest. Curving his arms around her narrow waist, he closed his eyes. A slight smile curved his lips when he felt her snuggle for a more comfortable position.
Her moist breath swept over his ear when she buried her face between his neck and shoulder. “Why, Chris?” she whispered softly. “Why didn’t you—”
“The next time,” he said, interrupting her.
She smiled, pressing her mouth to the side of his strong neck. “I’m looking forward to it.” There was a hint of laughter in her voice.
Shifting his head, Chris kissed her damp forehead. “No more than I, mi amor. No more than I,” he repeated.
Chris smiled, closing his eyes. Within minutes he had fallen asleep, while the woman in his arms stared at the serenity softening his features until she, too, joined him in a dreamless slumber.
Chapter 10
Emily and Chris walked into the restaurant at the resort and were quickly swallowed up by a lively crowd dancing and gyrating to the late Bob Marley’s “I Shot the Sheriff.” All of the tables in the restaurant were positioned close to the walls, allowing for a larger dancing area, while long tables covered with tablecloths in the colors of black, green and gold held trays of steaming dishes. White-jacketed servers stood behind the tables where a sumptuous buffet awaited the revelers.
Curving an arm around Emily’s waist, Chris steered her through the crowd and over to the bar. Shielding her body with his to protect her from the throng lining the solid mahogany bar, he raised his right hand to capture a waiter’s attention.
A young man with a mouth filled with perfect straight teeth approached, offering them a friendly smile. “Yeah, mon?”
“Two rum punches.” Reaching into the pockets of his slacks, he placed a bill on the highly polished surface.
The bartender worked quickly, mixing the drinks. “A rum punch for the pretty lady, and one for her gentleman friend.”
Emily smiled, her luminous eyes crinkling attractively. “Thank you.”
“Thanks,” Chris mumbled under his breath, successfully controlling his temper. He couldn’t believe the man was openly flirting with Emily, as if he did not exist.
Turning to face Chris, Emily touched her glass to his. “Here’s to a special night.”
He inclined his head. “To love and passion.”
She felt a rush of heat warm her cheeks with his toast. They had spent the morning in bed, rising to eat what had become a late breakfast of fruit, coffee and several slices of toast topped with an imported British strawberry-and-champagne-blended jam.
The haze had lifted by midafternoon, and they walked down to the beach and lingered in the water for nearly an hour. Afterward, they retreated to the gazebo and lay on the hammock, laughing and talking about the predicaments they had gotten into when growing up.
Emily refused to think about the time when Chris would leave Ocho Rios. This night would be their third night together, and within another three he would to fly to Mexico to meet his biological father.
She took a sip of the potent drink, closing her eyes briefly. When she opened them she found Chris staring at her with a strange expression on his face.
“Are you all right?”
She flashed a too-brigh
t smile. “I’m wonderful.”
Tightening his hold on her waist, he led her away from the bar and over to a table for two in a corner. Pulling out a chair, he seated her. Sitting opposite her, he studied her impassive expression. Instinctively, he knew she had not told him the truth. She wasn’t all right. Something was bothering her, but he decided not to pry.
He had never seen her look more sensual than she did tonight. Her dress was a black fitted garment with capped sleeves, a squared neckline that revealed a hint of tanned breasts and a very short length that showed off her bare, well-shaped legs. She had added three inches to her statuesque height with a pair of black sling-back patent leather pumps. Her face was radiant, with a light cover of makeup that accentuated her jeweled eyes and full, lush mouth. Her hair shimmered from a styling gel that kept the raven curls off her face and ears. The flickering light from the small candle on the table reflected off the rare yellow diamond studs in her pierced lobes.
Seeing her earrings reminded him of the ones his mother wore. They were a pair of brilliant blue-white diamonds set in platinum in an antique design with levered backs that Matthew Sterling had given his wife on their wedding day. It had become a tradition with the Sterlings that the eldest son give the earrings to his wife after the birth of their first son. If there were no sons, then the eldest daughter passed them on to the first grandson.
Sara Lassiter had given his parents their first grandson, yet Eve Sterling had not relinquished the earrings. And when he questioned his mother about them she had revealed that Matt wanted him to have the earrings. Her explanation rendered him mute. He loved Matthew Sterling but had always acknowledged that he was his stepfather. Matt had never thought of him as his stepson, but the son who should have sprung from his own loins. The simple explanation changed how he viewed the man he called dad—forever. From that moment he had become Matthew Sterling’s son.
He placed a hand over Emily’s delicate fingers. “What if me get the pretty lady something to eat?” he questioned with a Jamaican accent. “Jerk chicken, jerk pork, jerk fish? What do you say if me get you some curry goat? Callaloo? Peas and rice?”
Private Passions Page 9