she lifted her arms and draped them over his shoulders. He shifted closer. Patience thrilled to the slow surge of his tongue against hers. Boldly, she returned the caress; the muscles beneath her hands tensed. Emboldened, she let her lips firm against his, and reveled in his immediate response. Hard transmuted to harder; lips, muscles, all became more definite, more sharply defined.
It was fascinating-she became softer-he became harder.
And behind his hardness came heat-a heat they both shared. It rose like a fever, turning the swirling pleasure hot. Beyond the caress of his lips, he hadn't touched her, yet every nerve in her body was heating, simmering with sensation. The warm tide spread, swelled; the temperature increased.
And she was flushed, restless-wanting.
The slide of hard fingers over her breasts made her gasp-not in panic but pure shock. Shock at the shaft of sheer delight that speared through her, the sharp tingling that spread over her skin. The fingers firmed, possessively cupping her soft, oddly swollen flesh-which immediately swelled more. His hand closed, fingers kneading; her heated flesh firmed, tingling and tight.
The hot tangling of their tongues and the heat of his hand proved utterly distracting. When he stroked the peak of her breast, Patience gasped again. With something akin to amazement, her senses acutely focused on his fingertips, she marveled at her response to his touch, at the flaring heat that seared her, at the tight niching of her nipples.
She'd never imagined such sensations existed; she could barely believe they were real. Yet the caresses continued, thrilling her, heating her-she had to wonder what else she didn't know.
What else she had yet to experience.
With every ounce of expertise at his command, Vane deliberately drew her deeper. Her total lack of resistance would have made him wonder, if he hadn't earlier seen the curiousity, the calm calculated intention in her eyes. She was willing, even eager-the knowledge stirred his passions powerfully. He held them in check, aware that she was no wanton, that she'd never been down this road before-and that, despite her guileless confidence, her openness-her implicit trust was a fragile thing which could all too easily be shattered by overly aggressive loving.
She was naive, innocent-she needed to be loved tenderly, coaxed to passion gently, savored slowly.
As he was savoring her now, the softness of her mouth his to enjoy, her breast firm under his fondling hand. Her innocence was refreshing-heady, addictive, entrancing.
Angling his head, Vane deepened the kiss for an instant, then drew back, releasing her lips. But not her breast.
He waited, fingers stroking the swollen mounds, first one, then the other, waiting… until he saw her eyes glint beneath her lashes. He caught her gaze, then slowly, deliberately, lifted his fingers to the top button of her bodice.
Patience's eyes widened under her heavy lids; her breasts swelled as she drew in a shocked breath. The sudden release of the top button was almost a relief. Her senses reeled as his fingers moved down-to the next button; she felt every slow beat of her heart, pulsing under her skin, as, one after another, the tiny pearl rounds slipped their moorings.
And her bodice slowly opened.
For one fraught instant, she wasn't sure what she wanted-whether she even wanted to know what came next. The hesitation lasted only a second-the second it took for Vane to slowly brush aside the soft fabric of her bodice, for his fingers to slide knowingly in.
One gentle tug, and her chemise slid down. Then came the first tantalizing touch of his fingertips on her skin; Patience's senses whirled. Aghast, agape, utterly enthralled, her every nerve tingled to his touch, to the caress of his palm, to those long, hard fingers as they closed about her breast.
Vane watched her reaction from under heavy lids, watched flaring passion light her eyes. Sparks of pure gold flashed in the hazel depths as he gently kneaded, then sent his fingers gliding over her silken skin. He knew he should kiss her, distract her, from what came next-but the compulsion to witness, to know her reaction as she learned what he would do, as he filled his senses with her, waxed strong.
Deliberately, he shifted his hand; his fingers closed confidently about one tightly budded nipple.
Patience gasped-the sweet sound filled the room. Instinctively, she arched, pressing her breast more firmly into the hard palm surrounding it, seeking relief from the sharp sensation that speared her-again and again as his fingers firmed.
Vane bent his head and his lips found hers.
Patience clung to his kiss, held to it like an anchor in her suddenly whirling world. Pure streams of heat arced through her, waves of hot pleasure sank to her bones, pooled in her loins. She clutched Vane's shoulders, and kissed him back, suddenly desperate to know, to feel, to appease the desire throbbing in her veins.
Abruptly, he broke their kiss. He shifted, and his lips touched her throat. No longer cool, they seared like a brand as he traced the long sweep of her throat. Patience pressed her head back into the pillows and fought to catch her breath.
Only to lose it entirely a bare second later.
His lips closed about one tightly furled nipple-Patience thought she would die. Gasping desperately, she clenched her hands on his shoulders, fingers sinking deep. His lips firmed, he suckled gently-Patience felt the earth quake. The heat of his mouth shocked her-the wet sweep of his tongue scalded her. She gave a strangled cry.
That sound, keenly feminine, acutely evocative, caught and focused Vane's attention. Focused every hunter's instinct. Desire heightened, need escalated. His demons turned frenzied-her siren's song lured them on. Urged him on. Compulsion swelled-tense, turbulent, powerful. Desire seethed hotly. He drew a ragged breath-
And remembered-all he'd nearly forgotten, all her wild responses had driven from his mind. This was one seduction he had to, needed to, manage perfectly-this time, there was meaning beyond the act. Seducing Patience Debbington was too important to rush-conquering her senses, her body, was only the first step. He didn't want her just once-he wanted her for a lifetime.
Dragging in a shuddering breath, Vane caught hold of his reins and hauled his impulses up short. Something in him wailed with frustration. He shut his mind to the relentless pounding of his arousal.
And set himself to soothe hers.
He knew how. There were planes of warm desire on which women could float, neither driven, nor quiescent, but simply buoyed on a sea of pleasure. With hands and lips, mouth and tongue, he soothed her fevered flesh, took the sting from her aches, the edge from her passion, and eased her into that pleasured sea.