His words, their deep rumble yet another form of sensual simulation, traveled the lines of her body like rivers of lava heating and stirring in their carnal promise.
Rita had waited long enough, though.
She had waited twenty-seven years to be accepted and adored as she was now, with reverence rather than the intent to mold.
Hands growing bolder, Rita explored Jag’s body freely, trailing over the sculpted shoulders and arms, squeezing, scratching, lingering and digging in as she pleased to the intoxicating chorus of the sounds of his pleasure.
His tongue probed deeper, hands to her breasts, his thumbs caressing her hardened nipples once more. The dual attack split her focus, splintering and captivating the forces that had only moments before been intent on conquest.
Her breasts, high and tight and fully alert, trembled beneath the onslaught of his attention, and the sensation threatened to carry her away, though into what she had no idea.
Crying out, she gripped him tight as he tortured her through the thin barrier of her clothing. She could not have stopped the moans of pleasure coming from her if she had wanted to and as it was, she didn’t want to. In this moment, the only thing that existed was her and him in the vast expanse of empty night desert around them. She could be as loud as she wanted to.
“It’s time to get you out of these clothes,” he said, an implacable chord of certainty woven throughout his voice like rebar.
And she agreed.
With more patience than she would have been able to manage, he reached up behind her neck to release the clasp that held the heavy chandelier necklace in place.
Setting it to the side gently, he went for the belt next, his hands lingering on the outer edges of her thighs and trailing up to cup her bottom and squeeze, before rounding the curve to remove the belt of astounding pearls.
Next, placing his palms on her shoulders, he trailed his hands down her arms, gently slipping her bracelets off when coming to them in his unhurried caress.
He then took her left hand, turning her palm upright, gently spinning the ring into the center of her hand and folding her fingers over it so the mighty rock lay safely tucked in the palm of her hand. Then his hands came back to her neck, finding the hidden zipper that blended near seamlessly into the line of her catsuit.
Staring deep into her eyes, he began to pull down the zipper, gently peeling the fitted material down, exposing the bare skin of her shoulders, then her sternum, pausing only after releasing the large soft globes of her breasts.
Eyes smoldering, he told her everything she needed to know about his reaction to what he saw with the heat in his gaze.
But as if sensing how far an affirmation would go, he said, “Even more beautiful than I imagined.”
Heat flushed Rita’s skin, a dusky blush deepening the brown tone everywhere that it was visible.
Licking his lips, Jag returned to her true unveiling.
Though this was the first time any adult had ever seen her naked body, Rita felt entirely comfortable.
More than comfortable. Powerful.
The man before her might be a world leader capable of commanding the respect of the international community, but in this he was helpless to his desire for her.
She held the key—was the answer—to the only thing he wanted.
Only she could give it to him. Only he could give it to her.
And then she was as naked as he was, but for the enormous ring on her left hand that sparkled in the moonlight.
Bared to her husband for the first time, no barriers between them, she was filled with a sense of virtue. They might not have entered marriage this way, but here, finally, they came together for the right reasons.
His eyes consumed her, raking over her form, leaving invisible marks of their possession in their fiery trail.
He swallowed, the sound audible to them both in the hyper-focused bubble that had grown up to encircle them.
Clearing his throat, he said, his words thick and rough, “You are perfection.”
And seeing it in his eyes, she believed him.
CHAPTER TEN