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NotI will, butI do. Before the ramifications of those two simple words could destroy her, he dipped his head, letting his lips trail along the length of her neck. And she was lost.
He worshipped her skin. That was the only possible description for the kisses he trailed over her, each one full of the tenderness that had been present in his voice, hinting at so much more. When his lips found her breast she arched up, eager for what was to come. And he didn’t hold back, his mouth opening over the straining tip. Fire pooled between her legs and she let out a low moan, her fingers diving into the soft, still-damp waves of his hair.
His hands, too, were driving her wild, and everywhere at once, plumping her breast for his kisses, trailing down her side, gripping her hip. When they trailed over her belly, she held her breath. And then he was dipping his fingers between her legs, and she had to bite her lip to keep her eagerness from rending the air.
“So ready for me,” he gasped, caressing her folds, the slickness there creating a dizzying sensation. She opened her legs, pressing up against his hand, silently begging for more.
In answer he trailed kisses lower. Before she could react to the unexpectedness of it, he came to the core of her, pressing his mouth against the thatch of curls there. And everything was forgotten.
With tongue and teeth and lips he loved her, and that part of her quickly became the very center of her universe. He drew her into his mouth, stroking his tongue over her folds, starting up a rhythm that had her rocking her hips against him. She gripped tight to his head in silent encouragement. He let loose a growl of approval, his fingers digging into her hips, and she threw her head back as the pleasure brought by his clever mouth sent her higher and higher. When he slipped a finger into her, she came undone.
Bright white light exploded behind her lids, as if she had soared up past constricting storm clouds to find herself in brilliant sunlight. She hung there, suspended, for one incredible moment, before drifting back to earth. She opened her eyes to find Quincy beside her. He brushed back hair from her temple and smiled.
She returned the smile, her chest light, her body deliciously relaxed. In all her imaginings she’d never dreamed such pleasure existed. And yet she wasn’t tired; not in the least. Rather, Quincy had awakened her to a joy she hadn’t thought possible. She tugged on his shoulders, letting him know this was in no way over.
He understood immediately. Rolling from her, he removed his breeches. And then he was over her again, and sliding between the welcoming cradle of her legs, the low hiss of pleasure telling her more than words that he was as affected as she by the feel of their bare skin coming together, of his hard muscles pressing into her softer curves with nothing between them. The desire that had been sated in her burst into glorious life.
“I want you inside me,” she whispered, her lips trailing hungrily over the side of his neck.
He shuddered, her name escaping his lips, a benediction in the quiet night air. He pushed forward, the blunt tip of him poised at her entrance before, with a low groan, he slid inside her.
There was not a single moment of discomfort or pain. She held him tightly as he slowly buried himself, each inch exquisite torture.
“Are you well?”
His anxious words rasped against her shoulder, his muscles straining under her hands, his back slick with the sweat of the effort of holding himself still. There would be no words, she knew, that would ease his mind. His every concern was centered on her well-being, and would not be easily waylaid.
To calm his worries the only way she knew how, she wrapped her legs about his lean hips and guided him farther into her.
He gasped, raising his head, looking down into her face. She smiled, stroking a lock of hair from his forehead. “Quincy.”
He groaned, taking her lips in a kiss, the desperation and longing in it matched by the thrust of his hips as he began to move inside her. Her fingers scored his back, her hips moving in time with his, the pleasure building higher than before until she felt she might never come back down.
He ripped his mouth free, pressing it to the side of her neck. “Come for me, Clara,” he whispered, the words searing her from the inside out. “I want to feel you come around me.”
And she did, breaking apart into jagged pieces before realigning into someone completely new. As the last quivers of pleasure shimmied through her trembling body he pulled himself free and, his breath harsh in her ear, spent himself in the rumpled sheets at her side.
Sated, near exhaustion, she was hardly aware as he whisked the sheet from the bed, dragging a warm blanket up over her limp body before sliding in beside her and pulling her into his arms.
They lay there for a time, saying nothing, as the fire in the hearth burned down and the night air cooled. She had never felt so safe as she was right now, held tight in his arms, her head on his chest and his heart beating steadily under her ear. His fingers trailed languidly over her arm, his breath blowing soft in her hair. Her eyelids grew heavy, contentment filling her. How easy it would be to drift off to sleep.
But she would not allow it. This moment was fleeting as it was; she would not waste a second of it in sleep. Instead she would focus on every detail to better remember it, from the curling of dark hair sprinkled over his broad chest, to the strength of his thigh between her own, to the soft kiss he placed on the crown of her head.
But her eyelids were growing heavier. Just as slumber was about to take over, however, he spoke.
“Clara, we need to talk.”
His voice rumbled under her ear, the familiar sound of it soothing her. So much so that, for a brief moment, she couldn’t understand the implications of his words.
When she did, however, she tensed. “Quincy—”
“Please, Clara, hear me out.”
She lurched upright, breaking his hold on her, and looked down into his face. Her heart beat out a frantic rhythm, the sight of the grim determination in his dark eyes stealing her breath.
“I told you my requirements, Quincy,” she said low. “This was not a promise of a future for us.”
“I understand,” he soothed. “But can you at least consider—”
