He grasped the lacy fabric with his teeth and tugged gently, pulling the garment down, burying his nose in the spicy curls that lay exposed before him. Hooking his fingers into the fabric, he slid her panties down and off, and sat back to view the results of his labor.
If he could stand the thought of another man seeing her nude, he’d have her painted just like this, head thrown back, red hair a wild tangle down her back, hands braced on the wall behind her and one leg cocked slightly open, inviting him to search the sweetness hidden in her shadows. But there was no way any other man was getting within a mile of her naked glory. He didn’t care how primitive and possessive it sounded. She was his and his alone. Forever.
The thought shook him slightly. And because it was an uncomfortable one to contemplate, he let her siren’s call distract him, freeing himself from his confining briefs, letting his straining flesh spring free in anticipation. Leaning forward again, he placed his mouth directly over the shadowed crease in her feminine mound, gently blowing a warm stream of breath over her. She made a low sound of surprise, and he drew back, putting his hands on the insides of her thighs and shifting her stance wide, baring her pink, pouting flesh to his gaze.
His own body was urging him to move faster, but he resisted its pleas. Leaning forward yet again, he used his tongue to open her slick softness and when she cried out, he plunged deeply into her, tasting the hot wet warmth of woman that greeted him. He lifted a hand and rubbed his fingers along the plump folds until he could enter her easily with one finger. As she arched against his hand, he set his mouth over the tiny nubbin that he knew awaited his touch, stroking over it with a rhythmic licking that he mimicked with the movement of his finger.
She was crying with each breath, her hips plunging, her hands in fists beating against the wall. She tolerated only a few of his intimate caresses before she climaxed, her body squeezing his finger in tight, hard contractions as her knees gave way and she began to slide down the wall to the floor.
He would have liked to wait, wanted to spin out the pleasure even more, but he was so hard even the brush of his flesh against his own belly pushed him dangerously close to release. Frantically, he took her by the hips and guided her down onto his jutting staff, arching up and plunging deeply into her just as a series of harsh, hard pulses left him gasping for breath, his head bowed as weakly on her shoulder as hers was on his.
When he could breathe enough to speak again, he chuckled softly. “How in the hell am I going to manage to go six weeks without this after the baby comes?”
She lifted her head from his shoulder and though she still sat astride him, though their bodies were still sweaty and joined together, there was a distant quality to her smile. “You managed for five months last time.”
He wanted to shake her. Instead, he leaned forward and nipped lightly at the smooth flesh of her shoulder. “Yes, but that was when I’d convinced myself you were a figment of my imagination.”
She yelped and shrank back. “Your imagination?” She sounded slightly indignant.
“My imagination,” he repeated. “Too good to be true. A hallucination caused by years of disappointing experiences. I wanted the real thing so badly that I created it. Or so I thought.”
“And this is the real thing?”
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” he said, frowning to disguise his smile. Little smart aleck. He took her by the shoulders and pulled her forward, kissed her hard and deep one final time and then lifted her off him.
She promptly collapsed in a heap on the floor.
Groaning as his cramping leg muscles protested, he stood and pulled back the covers on the bed, then lifted her and laid her on the mattress. She immediately snuggled into the pillow, and he patted the smooth, bare buttock she presented before turning out the light and climbing in behind her. He gathered her into his arms and as he closed his eyes and sank into the sweet oblivion of sleep, he felt more content than he could ever remember feeling before in his life.
The morning’s bright white light streamed into the room through the sheer curtains over the window, slowly calling him awake. He’d forgotten to close the heavier drapes the night before. It didn’t really matter, though. They needed to get up and get going today anyway.
Elizabeth stirred in his arms. Or rather, beneath his arm. During the night she’d stretched out flat on her stomach. He lay on his side with one arm and one leg possessively chaining her to him. He smiled at the thought.
“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.”
“Mmm. G’morning.” She turned onto her side, then rolled onto her back. “What am I going to do when I can’t sleep on my stomach anymore?” she asked the ceiling.
“I guess you’ll just have to let me hold you all night,” he offered.
She turned into his arms, snuggling in and pressing small kisses across his chest. “That sounds nice.”
“Elizabeth.” He spoke slowly and quietly, not wanting to disturb her unduly. This was going to be the tricky part. Turning his head, he kissed her temple, his thumb caressing the ball of her shoulder where his arm lay around her. “We should get married.”
As he’d expected, her body stiffened. She didn’t pull away, though, and he was cautiously optimistic. Maybe she’d realized that what they had between them on the physical plane was extraordinary, that some people lived entire lives without experiencing the connection they had.
Finally, she spoke. “I believe we already had this discussion. No, thank you.”
“Why not?” His instinct was to lift himself over her and demand that she acquiesce, but he knew her well enough by now to know that that approach would get him nowhere.
“Physical infatuation isn’t a good enough foundation for a lifetime together.”
“But it’s a solid part of that foundation,” he argued. “How many married couples do you suppose aren’t sexually attracted?”
“It’s only a part, though, as you just said.” There was a hint of sad weariness in her voice. “And it’s about the only part we do have.”
“We have more than that,” he insisted.
“Rafe, I’m not going to marry you and that’s final.” Her body was stiff and unresponsive, and suddenly he couldn’t stand to be in the bed where she’d been so warm and sweet the night before.