His hands still cradled her hips as he fell backwards on the narrow mattress. Rachel found herself astride his half-naked body. ‘Take my clothes off, Rachel; undress me,’ he commanded throatily. He reached up and took the weight of her breasts in the palms of his hands. He gave a deep grunt of male satisfaction.
His dark hands against her pale skin—skin that had acquired an opalescent sheen in the semi-darkness—was incredibly arousing. The way his thumbs moved softly over the hard peaks made her breath escape from her lungs in one silent whoosh. He caught her hands in his.
‘Let me show you how. Shall I show you how, Rachel?’
Her fingers turned within his light grasp and she raised one hand to her lips. His fingers flexed until the bones cracked as, open-mouthed, she kissed the slightly calloused palm of his hand. Her tongue traced a delicate damp pattern against his flesh.
‘I’d like that. Teach me, Ben.’
‘You’ve worked out a nice line in torture all by yourself, lover,’ he groaned.
‘Don’t you like it?’ Lover—it sounded good, she decided dreamily. Why shouldn’t she be his lover? Was it asking too much to have this time with him—the man she loved?
A laugh rumbled in his chest at the husky note of sulky pique but his eyes were fierce. ‘You seem to know what I like, Rachel.’
‘It’s easier if you tell me.’ She hooked one finger into the curling hair that was sprinkled over his chest and belly and bent closer to lap tentatively at his flat masculine nipple. He gasped hard and sucked in his belly, emphasising the solid slabs of muscle.
‘That’s good,’ he breathed thickly, catching hold of the back of her head and urging her back down. ‘We could start there.’ He closed his eyes as the lash of her delicate tongue began once more. Periodically she raised her head to peep with sultry satisfaction at the tense, almost pained expression that contorted his features.
‘I like this,’ she sighed, tucking her damp hair behind her ears and throwing him another hot, hungry look.
‘Let’s find out what else you like.’ Abruptly he tipped her pliant body backwards and Rachel found herself flat on her back with him kneeling over her.
‘I didn’t finish,’ she said, tugging at the buckle of his leather belt.
‘Two sets of hands make light work,’ he said. He yanked his trousers down his legs and kicked them clear.
The excitement moved low in her belly at the sight of his arousal. The pain was sharp, the emotions deep and suffocating. The weight of hot, unshed tears stung her eyes. Nobody but Ben could ever make her feel like this—it wasn’t possible.
‘I’m glad.’
His words startled her; she hadn’t been conscious of speaking. ‘Shall I touch…?’ She reached out and paused, suddenly not quite the sultry temptress she’d been playing.
‘Yes—oh, yes!’
The red sparks that danced before her eyes seemed visible evidence of the sexual energy that crackled around them. The husky encouragement was all she needed to soothe the flurry of uncertainty. She was now sure that what she wanted to do was what he wanted too.
The room was filled with sharp gasps and hoarse groans as he moved against her hand until the moment came when his hand covered her own. She made a sound of protest.
‘I’m a marathon man myself; I like to appreciate the journey. But if you keep that up…’
‘You’re saving yourself for a sprint finish?’ she suggested with an impish grin.
‘Only if you behave, you little witch,’ he said, responding to her teasing with a mock growl. He pinned her arms to her sides. She squirmed, not from any desire to escape but because it felt good to have his heavy body pressing against her.
‘Do you really want me to behave?’ she asked, panting from the exertions of their mock combat. His breath stirred the downy hair on her cheek; he smelt distinctively of Ben.
‘Naturally—I want you to behave naturally, Rachel.’
She could do that, she thought happily; at least, she could with Ben. He obeyed the implicit plea in her passion-saturated eyes and kissed her.
Rachel wasn’t conscious of shedding her remaining clothes but it wasn’t very long before his elegant, sensitive fingers were moving unimpeded over her smooth flesh. His clever fingers roused her past and beyond thought; she was all feeling and sensation. The primitive regression was complete and now she needed him—needed him badly to finish what he’d started.
‘Yes…yes…yes!’ she cried as he slid into her. Feeling her body adapt and stretch to accept him was a breathless, marvellous sensation, and when he began to move she wrapped her legs around him and let everything happen. It did happen perfectly.