Secrets of a Summer Night
Page 74
“I was too surprised!”
“That was the reason you didn’t object?”
“No,” Annabelle admitted, tilting her face so that her cheek brushed against his. “I liked your kiss. You know that I did.”
He smiled at that. “I had hoped it wasn’t all one-sided.” He looked into her eyes, their faces so close that their noses were nearly touching. “Come to bed with me,” he whispered, a nearly imperceptible question in his voice.
She nodded with a shaky sigh and let him lead her to the large four-poster bed, covered with a counterpane made of heavy quilted burgundy silk. Drawing back the covers, Simon lifted Annabelle onto the slick-pressed linens, and she slid over to make room for him. He stood by the bed, watching her face as he removed the rest of his formal clothes. The contrast between the neatly tailored garments, so eminently civilized, and the raw masculine power of the body beneath, was disconcerting. As Annabelle had expected, he possessed an unusually muscular torso, his back and shoulders rippling, his stomach tightly corrugated. His swarthy skin was tinted amber-gold in the lamplight, the surface of his shoulders gleaming as rich and taut as freshly cast metal. Even the dark fleece that covered his chest could not soften the powerful vaulting of flesh and bone. Annabelle doubted that a healthier, more vigorous-looking man could be found anywhere. Perhaps he didn’t match the fashionable ideal of a pale, slender-framed aristocrat…but Annabelle thought he was altogether splendid.
Pangs of excited apprehension went through her stomach as he joined her on the bed. “Simon,” she said, breathing fast as he took her into his arms, “my mother didn’t tell me if…if tonight there was something that I should do for you…”
His hand began to play in her hair, his fingers drifting over her scalp in a way that sent hot tingles down her spine. “You don’t have to do anything tonight. Just let me hold you…touch you…discover some of the things that please you…”
His hand found the placket of mother-of-pearl buttons at the back of her gown. Annabelle closed her eyes as she felt the frothy mass of ruffled lace loosening over her shoulders. “Do you remember that night in the music room?” she whispered, gasping as she felt him ease the gown from her br**sts. “When you kissed me in the alcove?”
“Every blistering second,” he whispered back, pulling her arms from the billowing sleeves. “Why do you mention it?”
“I couldn’t stop thinking about it,” she confessed. She wriggled to help him strip the gown away from her body, a blush covering every inch of exposed skin.
“Neither could I,” he admitted. His hand slid over her breast, cupping the cool roundness until the peak was rosy and hard in his palm. “We seem to be a flammable combination—even more so than I had expected.”
“It’s not always like this, then?” she asked, letting her fingers explore the deep groove of his spine and the tough-knit muscle on either side of it.
Her touch, simple as it was, disrupted the rhythm of his breath as he leaned over her. “No,” he murmured, resting one long leg against the seam of her tightly cinched thighs. “Hardly ever.”
“Why—” she began to question him, but stopped with a faint moan as he traced the satiny undercurve of her breast with the edge of his thumb. Containing her narrow rib cage in his hands, he bent over her chest. His lips were hot and light as they opened gently over a tightly budded nipple. She let out a gasping cry at the tender tugs of his mouth, his tongue flicking her sensitive flesh until she could no longer remain still beneath him. Her legs parted involuntarily, and immediately he filled the space with his own hair-roughened thigh. As his hands and mouth wandered slowly over her body, Annabelle lifted her hands to his head, letting the thick waves slip through her fingers as she had so often longed to do. He kissed the fragile skin of her wrists, and the insides of her elbows, and the shallow depressions between her ribs, leaving no part of her unexplored. She let him do as he wished, quivering as she felt the prickle of his night beard contrasting with the silky wet heat of his mouth. But when he reached her navel, and she felt the slick point of his tongue enter the little hollow, she rolled away from him with a shocked inhalation. “No…Simon, I…please…”
Immediately he levered upward to gather her in his arms, smiling into her scarlet face. “Too much?” he asked huskily. “I’m sorry—for a moment I forgot that it’s new to you. Here, let me hold you. You’re not frightened, are you?”
Before she could answer, his mouth had settled on hers, dragging gently back and forth. The hair on his chest abraded her br**sts like coarse velvet, her ni**les rubbing against him with each breath she took. Her throat vibrated with low sounds, evincing the pleasure that had escaped her crumbling restraint. She gasped sharply as his fingers drifted over her stomach and his knee intruded more deeply between hers. Widening the angle between her thighs, he slipped his fingers into the soft feminine curls, exploring her swollen flesh. He parted her, found the silken peak that throbbed at his touch, and stroked just above it with sweet, dancing lightness.
She gasped against his mouth, her flesh heating into melting pliancy. A passion-blush covered her skin, dappling the paleness with rosy stains. Simon sought the opening of her body, his gentle fingertip insinuating carefully into the fluid-drenched suppleness. Her heart pounded, and all her limbs stiffened against the heightening pleasure. Rolling away from him with a muffled exclamation, she stared at Simon with wide eyes.
“That was the reason you didn’t object?”
“No,” Annabelle admitted, tilting her face so that her cheek brushed against his. “I liked your kiss. You know that I did.”
He smiled at that. “I had hoped it wasn’t all one-sided.” He looked into her eyes, their faces so close that their noses were nearly touching. “Come to bed with me,” he whispered, a nearly imperceptible question in his voice.
She nodded with a shaky sigh and let him lead her to the large four-poster bed, covered with a counterpane made of heavy quilted burgundy silk. Drawing back the covers, Simon lifted Annabelle onto the slick-pressed linens, and she slid over to make room for him. He stood by the bed, watching her face as he removed the rest of his formal clothes. The contrast between the neatly tailored garments, so eminently civilized, and the raw masculine power of the body beneath, was disconcerting. As Annabelle had expected, he possessed an unusually muscular torso, his back and shoulders rippling, his stomach tightly corrugated. His swarthy skin was tinted amber-gold in the lamplight, the surface of his shoulders gleaming as rich and taut as freshly cast metal. Even the dark fleece that covered his chest could not soften the powerful vaulting of flesh and bone. Annabelle doubted that a healthier, more vigorous-looking man could be found anywhere. Perhaps he didn’t match the fashionable ideal of a pale, slender-framed aristocrat…but Annabelle thought he was altogether splendid.
Pangs of excited apprehension went through her stomach as he joined her on the bed. “Simon,” she said, breathing fast as he took her into his arms, “my mother didn’t tell me if…if tonight there was something that I should do for you…”
His hand began to play in her hair, his fingers drifting over her scalp in a way that sent hot tingles down her spine. “You don’t have to do anything tonight. Just let me hold you…touch you…discover some of the things that please you…”
His hand found the placket of mother-of-pearl buttons at the back of her gown. Annabelle closed her eyes as she felt the frothy mass of ruffled lace loosening over her shoulders. “Do you remember that night in the music room?” she whispered, gasping as she felt him ease the gown from her br**sts. “When you kissed me in the alcove?”
“Every blistering second,” he whispered back, pulling her arms from the billowing sleeves. “Why do you mention it?”
“I couldn’t stop thinking about it,” she confessed. She wriggled to help him strip the gown away from her body, a blush covering every inch of exposed skin.
“Neither could I,” he admitted. His hand slid over her breast, cupping the cool roundness until the peak was rosy and hard in his palm. “We seem to be a flammable combination—even more so than I had expected.”
“It’s not always like this, then?” she asked, letting her fingers explore the deep groove of his spine and the tough-knit muscle on either side of it.
Her touch, simple as it was, disrupted the rhythm of his breath as he leaned over her. “No,” he murmured, resting one long leg against the seam of her tightly cinched thighs. “Hardly ever.”
“Why—” she began to question him, but stopped with a faint moan as he traced the satiny undercurve of her breast with the edge of his thumb. Containing her narrow rib cage in his hands, he bent over her chest. His lips were hot and light as they opened gently over a tightly budded nipple. She let out a gasping cry at the tender tugs of his mouth, his tongue flicking her sensitive flesh until she could no longer remain still beneath him. Her legs parted involuntarily, and immediately he filled the space with his own hair-roughened thigh. As his hands and mouth wandered slowly over her body, Annabelle lifted her hands to his head, letting the thick waves slip through her fingers as she had so often longed to do. He kissed the fragile skin of her wrists, and the insides of her elbows, and the shallow depressions between her ribs, leaving no part of her unexplored. She let him do as he wished, quivering as she felt the prickle of his night beard contrasting with the silky wet heat of his mouth. But when he reached her navel, and she felt the slick point of his tongue enter the little hollow, she rolled away from him with a shocked inhalation. “No…Simon, I…please…”
Immediately he levered upward to gather her in his arms, smiling into her scarlet face. “Too much?” he asked huskily. “I’m sorry—for a moment I forgot that it’s new to you. Here, let me hold you. You’re not frightened, are you?”
Before she could answer, his mouth had settled on hers, dragging gently back and forth. The hair on his chest abraded her br**sts like coarse velvet, her ni**les rubbing against him with each breath she took. Her throat vibrated with low sounds, evincing the pleasure that had escaped her crumbling restraint. She gasped sharply as his fingers drifted over her stomach and his knee intruded more deeply between hers. Widening the angle between her thighs, he slipped his fingers into the soft feminine curls, exploring her swollen flesh. He parted her, found the silken peak that throbbed at his touch, and stroked just above it with sweet, dancing lightness.
She gasped against his mouth, her flesh heating into melting pliancy. A passion-blush covered her skin, dappling the paleness with rosy stains. Simon sought the opening of her body, his gentle fingertip insinuating carefully into the fluid-drenched suppleness. Her heart pounded, and all her limbs stiffened against the heightening pleasure. Rolling away from him with a muffled exclamation, she stared at Simon with wide eyes.
