‘I want to see it. I want to see you,’ he growled into the space between them, unconsciously echoing the words he’d said all those years ago.
His hands left her then to seize at the material covering her body. He tore at the dress, ripping it at the seams, casting the shreds of both the dress and her only protection against him to the floor. Naked in all but the shoes and betraying silk scrap useless against her modesty, she was bare to him. His hands swept over her thighs and arms. With one arm encasing her, he gently pushed her back, his lips finding the curves of her breasts with unerring accuracy. He took her hardened nipple into his mouth and reignited the storm inside her. Her undoing so complete, she let her head fall back and simply indulged in the sensations he rained down over her.
* * *
Danyl couldn’t get enough of her, taste or feel enough of her. He pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses down her neck and across her chest, over the perfect swell of her breasts, the faint traces of coconut and salt, the body scrub she still used, tantalising his taste buds. His fingers flexed against her arms as slowly the tremors of her orgasm sank into her skin. It was like coming home after too long an absence. It was both familiar and welcoming, but strangely discordant and unsettling. So instead of heeding the warning echoing in the back of his mind, he pushed on, making her body his home once again.
His lips found hers as his palms found her shoulders and he cursed. He wanted to feel her naked against his own skin, but he was still fully clothed. As if she’d come to the same conclusion at the same time, her quick hands flew to the buttons on his shirt. He went to help, but laughed when she batted his hands away without breaking the kiss. Mason pushed his shirt from his shoulders and ran her hands over his chest and back, sending shivers through them both. The need was so great between them it was almost too much to bear. He grasped her to him and stood, enjoying the small squeak of shock that fell into his mouth. He held her there with one hand, her legs around his hips, moving only to let his other hand rid himself of his trousers and underwear. He kicked off his shoes, toed off his socks and stepped towards the bedroom.
‘No,’ Mason said, shaking her head.
His breath caught in his chest.
He would stop. If he had to, he would. It might kill him, but he’d never...
‘Back to the chair,’ she commanded, and the impish light in her eyes was enough to soothe his fears.
He sat back down in the leather chair and relished the feel of her warm, silken skin against his. The smooth, strong muscles of her thighs swept over his and she giggled as the hair tickled the backs of her legs. Her knees came either side of his hips and she settled against the hard, hot evidence of his need.
‘This is not a laughing matter,’ he growled to Mason, trying to stop the smile forming at his lips.
‘On the contrary, Your Highness. I’ve found it the only sure way to manage you.’
‘I will not be managed by you or anyone else.’
‘No? How about a bit of “careful handling”, then?’
Her hand slipped between them and he caught her wrist. There was no way he could let her touch him. His body had been on fire since they entered the room and he would not shame himself like a green schoolboy. Their eyes locked in a battle of wills and he used the moment to move her into his hands, holding her above his lap, realisation dawning just before he brought her down on his erection and he plunged into the warm, wet heat of her.
Everything stopped. He could do nothing more than rest his head against her neck, her hands in his hair, holding him. Her breath shuddered out of her lungs, sending cascades of tremors through his own body. She was wrapped around him and he was buried deep within her, the two of them connected more powerfully than he could have ever imagined. But slowly his desire became impatient, restless. He moved his hips and Mason threw her head back, her knees locked against his hips, and he allowed her to set a rhythm that drew need and want from them both.
Soon the room was littered with the sounds of pleasure, the air as hot with them as he was. And he feared that he’d never be able to satisfy this hunger he had for her. A hunger that was nothing about his own needs, but all about hers. He wanted to hear his name on her lips, he wanted it imprinted on her skin, on her heart. As she was on his.
Soon all coherent thought was overwhelmed by the need to reach the impossible pinnacle she was driving them towards, his hips rising up to meet her, thrusting into her again and again and again, and still it wasn’t enough. A fire lit beneath them reached up to cover his skin, flushed with need and want and desire, reaching over and into his chest, seizing him in a heady grip, and, as he found his release just as she did, buried deep within her, his last thought was that he could never let her go again.
* * *
It was the sound of the shower that drew Mason from her sleep. Refusing to open her eyes, she reached out to the smooth silk sheets of the bed Danyl had taken them to. They were cold. Her eyes flew open and she looked at the ornate clock beside the bed. She frowned, unable to tell if it was three in the afternoon or morning. A beam of sunlight filtering through the curtains confirmed her suspicions and she pushed herself up, relishing the unfamiliar aches in her body.
Her fingers went to lips bruised by kisses, her chin slightly sensitive from the shimmer of stubble that had swept over every single inch of her skin. A blush of shame and desire painted her cheeks at her wanton behaviour from earlier. It had never been like that ten years before. Sweetness and light, she supposed, had no place between them now. But as she looked around the empty room unease crept into her heart and she felt...alone and unsure. What would happen now? How would this change things? she wondered. Would it even change things? She heard the shower stop, and after a moment a door closed, but there was no sign of Danyl.
Frowning, she gathered up the silk sheet around her and made her way to the bathroom, peering round the door, hoping to find him there, hoping to find him gone.
It was empty. There was another door leading off the bathroom. One he must have used. She looked about the room, one wall full of antique glass, and she walked towards it, taking herself in.
Her hair was tousled and teased, her lips pink and plump, but it was her eyes that stopped her. Shining and bright in a way she hadn’t seen since...since before...
She let the sheet fall into a silken puddle at her feet and stood naked before the mirror. Little red marks of passion coloured parts of her pale skin, and she ran her fingers over them, tracing the path his lips and hands had taken the night before.
This is my body. Toned from hard work on the ranch, she’d never given much thought to its appearance. And she now wondered what Danyl saw when he looked at her. Was she just the uncouth jockey he’d had a dalliance with all those years ago? No. She couldn’t lie to herself. The reverence, the true passion he’d shown her last night had changed something between them. Last night he’d set her grief free by showing her how to embrace her love instead of fighting it. But could she say the same of her feelings for Danyl?
She turned away from her reflection in the mirror, unsure as to what she’d see in her own eyes, and stepped into the most luxurious shower she’d ever seen. She relished the feeling of the hot water pummelling her skin, the soft, rose-scented bath gel smoothing over her body carelessly erasing the impressions Danyl had left there, and for a moment she regretted it. Regretted losing the scent of him, the feel of him.
She knew she couldn’t hide in the shower for ever, but the warmth, the steam enveloped her in safety and she was reluctant to leave. Outside was unknown, what happened next intangible. But here, she was in that halfway house o
f the past, the present and the future.
Her conscious mind forced herself to turn off the water and she grabbed one of the towels—slightly rough, the way she remembered Danyl liking them.