The Best Bride. Susan Mallery
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Her breath caught in her throat. It was as if he knew exactly how to touch, where to touch. She relaxed back on the bed and forgot her questions. Nothing mattered except the feel of him against her, loving her over and over. The rhythm increasing in cadence, matching the thunder of her heartbeat.
She whispered his name without thinking, then got embarrassed. He paused long enough to tell her to say it again. So she did. She spoke his name aloud, gasped her pleasure, rotated her hips mindlessly and surrendered to his masterful touch. The fire grew, burning hot and brighter. The flames didn’t frighten her—nothing frightened her. Travis was strong enough to save her. This night was a magical escape from her real world, from everything except the passion.
He moved faster against her, then shifted, slipping one finger into her woman’s place, moving it slowly. Once again she was shocked, but this time there was no room for questions, no room for anything but the sudden tension that locked her muscles and the explosion that shattered her into a million tiny pieces of perfect pleasure.
* * *
He held her tightly in his embrace, comforting her as the aftershocks rippled through her. The dull ache in her side told her that she’d used her stomach muscles too much. Who cares, she thought sleepily, and sighed.
“That sounded very contented,” he said, his voice rumbling against her hair.
“It is.” She snuggled closer, rubbing her cheek against the soft flannel of his shirt. His shirt? She opened her eyes. “You’re not even naked!”
“I know.” His slow, lazy smile belied the erection she could see pressing against the fly of his jeans.
“Travis?”
“Hush.” He brushed her hair out of her face and gently stroked her head. “Rest, darlin’. You’ve had a long and difficult day.”
It didn’t make any sense. If she’d taken too long with Sam, he had simply pleasured himself and left her unsatisfied. She’d always understood that a man’s needs were more uncontrollable than a woman’s, that a man had to find release or face a painful night. It had never been just for her.
“But you didn’t…do anything.”
“You’re too sore,” he said and reached down to touch her healing incision. “I saw you wince when you settled down. You can’t even drive yet. There’s no way your insides are ready for anything vigorous.”
She drew her eyebrows together. She couldn’t fault his argument. Just the thought of anything thrust inside of her was enough to make her side ache more. But this didn’t feel right. It wasn’t the way she’d planned it.
He moved his hand from her side to her breast and gently caressed the sensitized flesh. Her eyes drifted shut. It had felt so good when he’d loved her with his mouth. She couldn’t remember ever experiencing such exquisite sensations. In fact—
The idea came to her full-blown. She rose up on one shoulder, then collapsed back on the bed.
“What?” he asked.
She didn’t answer. Sam hadn’t wanted her to do that. But Travis wasn’t Sam, she reminded herself. Sam hadn’t done what Travis had done to her, either.
“Elizabeth?”
She exhaled deeply. “I was just wishing I’d had more lovers.”
“What?”
She laughed. “Just so I’d know how to handle this situation.”
He shook his head. “You’re handling it just fine. Trust me. Now lay down and relax.”
She shimmied closer, so that she could rest her chin on his chest. “I don’t think so.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing,” she said, innocently and sat up. She straddled his hips and leaned forward so she could start unbuttoning his shirt.
“What are you planning to do?” he asked.
“Just wait and see. If you don’t like it, I promise to stop.”
Travis warned himself not to blow it. Just because he was naked and she was sitting on his bare belly kissing his chest didn’t mean she was going to reciprocate what he’d done to her. But he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Couldn’t stop imagining what it would be like to have her taste him, touch him in that most intimate way. He told himself just having her in his bed, trusting him with her body, was enough. The hardness between his legs throbbed in time with his heartbeat and told him he was a liar.
Her hands were everywhere. His shoulders, chest, neck, arms. Soft skin brushing, stroking. Her small hot mouth pressed against his flat nipples, teasing him to frenzied awareness.
She slipped back and down, settling between his legs. He thought about telling her she didn’t have to do that. He could simply lie here a few minutes and explode from the need. He tried to think about other things, to get control, but every time he closed his eyes, he was back on top of her, touching and tasting her, loving her cries of pleasure, feeling her release against his lips. She’d been made to be pleasured by a man—by him.
Her hands rubbed up and down on his thighs. He looked at her. She nibbled on her lower lip as she studied him, obviously trying to figure something out.
“You don’t have to do this,” he said, cursing his mother for raising him right.
“Do what?”
Hell. “Whatever it is that has you confused.”
She tossed her hair over her shoulders. The movement caused her breasts to sway slightly. The sight of her hard peach-colored nipples bouncing in the air made his erection surge toward her.
“I want to, but I’m afraid you won’t like it.”
He tried to laugh. It came out a little strangled.
“I’ve never done this before. I can’t hurt you, can I? I don’t want to, you know, do anything awful.”
The muscles in his legs and arms started twitching. If it wasn’t for the small red incision, bright and angry against her pale flat belly, he’d roll her on her back and bury himself deep inside of her. That would end the debate and the growing pressure.
“I doubt you’d do anything awful,” he said, trying not to grit his teeth. “But we can stop now.”
She smiled. “Did you know the veins on your forehead are sticking out?”
“I’m not surprised,” he muttered, knowing he was being punished for some previous offense. It must have been pretty bad, whatever it was.