He turned and at last she saw the smile that tilted his mouth. His eyes focused on her and the smile faded, replaced by an expression that looked like awe. He tautened into stillness as he surveyed her from her unbound hair to her bare toes peeping beneath the white hem of her simple night rail.
The moonlight was so bright, she saw his Adam’s apple bob when he swallowed. She could almost imagine that he found her as breathtaking as she found him. His expression smoothed the sharpness from her uncertainty. The clamorous babble of thoughts in her head quietened to a low hum of need.
“You’re undressed,” he said huskily.
It seemed foolish to blush when they both knew she was in this room to offer herself to him, but heat flushed her cheeks. “I wasn’t sure what to wear.”
His joyous smile made her toes curl against the Turkish rug at her feet. “Or not, as the case may be.”
“Or not.”
She waited in an agony of pleasurable suspense for him to seize her, ravish her into delight so that she had no chance to remember the dictates of propriety. But he approached slowly, as though afraid if he moved too abruptly, she might vanish. By the time he stopped in front of her, she trembled with apprehension and desire. Her body felt too small a vessel to contain the storm of emotions raging inside her.
He reached out to smooth her hair away from her face. His touch always turned her knees to custard. Now, when the bed and all it portended filled the shadows behind him, the glance of his hand set her burning. If such a seemingly innocent touch had this effect, she’d most likely combust into ashes before they were done tonight.
Calista bit her lip and stood in shaking stillness as he trailed his hand across her neck and shoulders. His touch felt like a discovery rather than a seduction. Although of course she was seduced. Her heart thundered and her breasts tightened against the thin lawn of her nightdress. He glanced down and her blush heightened as she realized he saw her beaded nipples pressing against the fine white material.
“Beautiful,” he whispered, running his hand down her side then up again.
A tremulous sigh escaped her. This tender wooing lured her deeper and deeper into the turbulent waters of desire. She should move, speak, do something to encourage him. But his touch was so delicious, she found herself unable to do anything beyond accept this worship. His scent was spicy, clean. Familiar, yet with a musky tinge that awakened her senses.
Through the haze of pleasure enveloping her, she managed to send up a silent prayer. That the reverence she read in his face would last. That he’d still love her after he’d taken her to bed. That he’d look at her like this in the morning when she stepped inside the Marston parish church to pledge herself to him for the rest of her life.
Finally after what felt like an eon of teasing touches, Miles cupped her breast in his large, capable palm. His thumb brushed her nipple and she sagged as sensation roared through her. At last, at last he bent his head and kissed her with a ravenous ardour that outstripped anything she’d experienced before. She sighed and gave herself up to pleasure. The doubts that harried her drowned in a torrent of passion.
Clumsily, trying not to break the kiss, he tugged off his shirt. They both laughed breathlessly. Then laughter died and heat shuddered through her as she flattened her hand on the bare skin of his chest. They’d snatched occasional moments of privacy, but never before had she been free to learn the mysteries of his body at her leisure.
She moved closer, pressing her hips into his. He was hard and ready. He’d wanted her this afternoon. Now even the most innocent woman would know that he wanted her to the point of madness. She had the evidence of his erection against the softness of her belly. There was his jagged, rasping breath and the shaking need he betrayed as he fondled her through the nightgown. Soon even that frail barrier became unbearable. Roughly he wrenched it over her head and flung it away.
The daze of sensual pleasure receded. For the first time, Calista was naked with a man. Self-consciousness rose like a tide of icy water. The night wasn’t cold, but the air chilled her skin.
Awkwardly she broke away, but Miles caught her hand and stopped her retreat. Gently but inexorably, he turned her toward the moonlight flooding through the window.
“Exquisite,” he breathed.
She wanted to argue. To insist that she was too tall, too thin, that her breasts were too small. But the veneration in his face held her quiet and, for once, she poised on the verge of believing that a man could find her lovely.
He reached out to trace the outline of her body. The subtle curves and planes. This time there was nothing between her skin and his seeking, gliding fingers. This time when he kissed her, she sensed a new wildness. As though now she’d revealed her nakedness, the last wall between them crumbled.
Calista became lost in a dark forest of sensation. Of soft sighs and stroking hands and pleasure she’d never imagined in all her twenty-five years. When he touched her between the legs, she jerked on a strangled moan of shocked delight. Desire became a molten weight in the pit of her belly. She clung to his shoulders and instinct made her lean forward and bite him on the chest. His gasp conveyed astonished appreciation, then the world whirled as he swung her up in his arms and carried her the few steps to the Chinese bed.
For the first time in her life, she listened to a man undressing. The whispering slide of fabric on skin was almost unbearably erotic. She snatched at another breath. Henwit she was, she kept forgetting to breathe.
This new universe of physical pleasure left her floundering. How
she wanted to be brave, spirited, reckless, but shyness overcame her and she closed her eyes.
When she found the courage to look at him again, Miles came down over her, blocking the moonlight. He supported himself on his arms and he seemed large and powerful and resonating with an alien masculinity. For the space of a second, arousal faded and old fears stirred.
“You make me feel too much,” she whispered.
The fierceness faded from his eyes and his smile made her feel cherished. “I love you,” he murmured.
Calista wanted to tell him that she loved him too, but the declaration jammed unspoken in her throat. She was too conscious of his nakedness, of his barely leashed passion. While she reveled in his passion, it daunted her, too.
A low keening sound escaped her and she ran an unsteady hand through the soft hair that flopped forward over his high forehead. The overflowing tenderness in her heart made it impossible to hide her quaking vulnerability.
The shadows and his position braced over her meant she could no longer see his expression. But as her hand drifted down his face, she felt him smile. He sucked in a deep, shuddering breath and bent to kiss her, with a return of reverence.