The give-and-take-the reciprocity of it all-was something she hadn't foreseen. It intrigued her and spurred her on. He'd seen her breasts, stroked them, played with her nipples; it had all been gloriously pleasurable. Now was her chance to return the gift.
The last button gave; she slipped her hands inside the soft fabric. Splaying her fingers, she pressed her palms to the broad muscle that was the equivalent of her breasts.
He reacted as she had; a sharp tensing all but instantly converting to heat, to a curious thrumming resonance of the flesh. Pleased, she caressed, shifting her hands, fingers flexing, digging in, releasing; she wondered if that thrumming resonance was desire-his desire.
Hair rasped against her palms. She found the flat disks of his nipples, so unlike hers yet they still budded as hers did. She played, intrigued by the di
scovery, by the welling reaction she sensed in him. Their lips remained fused, her mouth trapped beneath his. She sensed his control, his holding back. Boldly, she caressed him with hands and tongue and tempted him more.
The dam broke; heat washed through her in a burning tide.
She'd been right-it was desire; she knew it in her bones. It filled her, warmed her. She basked in its heat and bravely drank it in, as much as he would give her.
She wanted this-desperately wanted to know about all the things she'd feared she never would. She wanted to feel, wanted to know what mutual desire was like, how it felt to burn with that flame.
Tonight might be her last chance to find out-once she told him her secret, he would no longer be interested in her, not like this. He would have no cause to compel her, no reason to seduce her. Once she found the letters, she would have to tell him all; the instant she did, this brief moment-her opportunity to be the object of a man's desire-would be over.
She didn't want it to pass. The realization shook her; she pushed it aside, too confusing to deal with now. Now when she had so many new sensations, not just physical but ethereal, to deal with. To experience, to understand-it was like plunging into a new world with new wonders, new customs. There was so much she had to learn.
He pressed her back into the hedge; his hands tugged at her shirt. It didn't button down the front. She sank back, easing her hold on him. He yanked the shirt from her breeches and then his hands were underneath it.
They encountered the bands wound tight over her breasts; his hands froze. She thought she heard him groan. Then his hands slid around, locking over her back, and he hauled her against him. That she understood. She pulled her hands free, wound them around his neck, and pressed herself to him, giving him back kiss for wild kiss, caress for heated caress.
She wasn't sure her feet were touching the ground. She didn't care. All she wanted was to get closer, to combine her heat with his.
His hands slid lower, over her hips, until they cupped her bottom. He lifted her against him, into him. His desire was very evident. She let her body press like a hand to him, as if with her soft stomach she could caress him there.
Something changed. Not in a flash, but in a steady rush of power. Something new rose between them, something so vital, so intense, she ached to hold it, to know it. She tightened her arms about his neck and kissed him more deeply, sharing the driving need. He kissed her back. The power swelled and spread through them until she was glowing with it, aching with it, and he was the same.
Their lips parted. They both needed to breathe. A curious hiatus held them; she glanced at his face. His eyes were shut; his breathing was as ragged as hers. What next? She had no idea. She was quite sure he did.
She brushed her lips against his. "Teach me."
His harsh laugh was mostly groan. "Dammit-I'm trying to spare you!"
"Don't." She would have frowned, but his eyes were closed. Was he being chivalrous? Or pigheadedly protective? Was there any difference? And did she care? "Stop making my decisions for me."
"You don't even know-"
"Stop arguing and show me." She kissed him-hard, forcefully. He reacted instantly and kissed her back fiercely. Her head spun. She didn't draw back, she refused to retreat-she kept kissing him, sinking against him, using her body against him. She sensed the moment when she won, when desire triumphed over whatever misguided male notions he'd held.
A shudder went through him, then heat and glory welled between them again, even more powerful than before.
The tenor of their kiss changed-the giving and taking shifted to some deeper level of intimacy. She gave readily, took gladly, and refused to back away.
A deep sigh coursed through him and his hands firmed about her bottom. His fingers flexed, then kneaded; heat spread in a prickly wave over her skin.
He backed her further into the hedge. One hand cradling her bottom, he held her there, pinned by his weight, while, with fingers quick and sure, he undid the buttons closing her breeches.
She should have been shocked, but she wasn't-she wanted to know. Now. Tonight. Here. With him.
Long fingers splayed over her stomach; they gently pressed and she lost her breath. His lips firmed and she took her breath from him, and rode the spiraling sensation of his touch, of his exploration.
He didn't hurry. He took the time to savor, to learn. Nerves tightening to excruciating sensitivity, she followed his every move.
Followed his fingers through the springy thicket of her tangling curls, felt the long slide of his fingers between her thighs. Sensed the heat, the curious dampness he encountered, thrilled to the flash of pure sensation that speared her when he caressed, then fondled.
His knowing fingers touched her, parted her, explored her-waves of pleasure rose and swamped her. They pushed her on. On toward something; the urge to reach it grew, swelled, until a near-mindless want consumed her.