she felt his teeth graze the sensitised bud, heightening her arousal even more with wicked expertise.
But a second later even that was not enough. While his attention was concentrated on one part of her there were other, equally sensitive areas that grew impatient, demanding the same voluptuous rapture.
And she was no longer content to be still. She wanted to feel him too, to touch his skin, explore every inch of his body, know him fully at last.
The silk jacket was clumsily tugged off and discarded carelessly on the floor, followed swiftly by his shirt and tie. The feel of the warm satin of his flesh under her fingertips acted like the flick of a switch, triggering off a wild yearning that had her flinging caution to the winds. Fingers trembling with need, she fumbled with the narrow leather belt around his waist, sighing her satisfaction as she pulled it free.
‘Steady!’ Ronan’s voice was thick and hoarse, sounding a note of warning against her throat.
‘Steady?’ Lily muttered in impatient response. ‘I want this— I want you!’
She was struggling to breathe, finding it almost impossible to drag enough air into her straining lungs. Every inch of her skin was burning up with hunger, heating her blood until it seemed to pool in a molten rush of heat and awareness between her thighs.
‘Well, if that’s what you want.’ It was a low, contented growl. ‘That’s what you shall have.’
She was lifted from her feet and carried towards the bed. He lowered her on to the covers and his mouth locked with hers again, the sensual intrusion of his tongue tangling with her own until she moved against him restlessly. Sliding down beside her, he moved fluidly against her, the pressure of his lean body making her crave more intimate contact with a desperation that was like a scream through every nerve-end.
Her clothes, too, had been discarded somewhere, she had no idea when he had actually eased them from her body. But now he leaned above her, propped up on one arm, looking down at her with passion-darkened eyes.
‘Tonight, my lady, you can have whatever you want.’
Later, that subtly emphasised tonight was to come back to haunt her bitterly. But for that night she had no sense of premonition, no hint of anything beyond her own pleasure.
‘Whatever…’ It was a sigh of sheer delight in the anticipation of what was to come.
‘But first…’
Turning away from her for a moment, he reached for the small foil-wrapped package he had tossed on to the bedside cabinet and ripped it open.
‘We don’t need…’ Lily began, but he silenced her with a gentle finger laid across her lips.
‘Oh, yes, we do,’ he insisted softly. ‘A child doesn’t come into my plans at all right now. I want you all to myself for a long time, without any such complication.’
All to myself. The whispered words sent of glow of sheer joy through every inch of Lily’s body, making her purr like a contented cat.
‘That’s fine by me.’
Lazily she let her fingers drift over the powerful muscles of his back and shoulders, sliding into the dark silk of his hair. Feeling its unexpected lack of length, the bluntness of the line at the base of his finely shaped skull, she frowned in sensual disapproval.
‘Why did you cut your hair?’ she complained softly.
‘Perhaps I thought it didn’t suit my new status as a married man.’
‘But if you knew how long I’ve dreamed of this moment, how I wanted to run my fingers through it…’
She suited action to the words.
‘Trace its path right down to your shoulders…’
The way his long body tensed, then jerked convulsively under her caress told her of the effect she was having, bringing a smile of dreamy triumph to her lips.
‘Along your back…’
Her forefinger trailed all the way down the strong, straight line of his spine and under the loosened trousers, moving teasingly over the tautly muscled buttocks.
‘Witch!’ Ronan growled. ‘You’re asking for trouble.’
‘Really?’
Lily rounded her eyes with mock surprise and shock.
‘Do you know?’ she murmured. ‘I think that’s exactly what I’m doing.’
Her wandering fingers moved to close over the waistband of his trousers. With Ronan’s willing help he was soon free of his only remaining clothing, a faintly shaken laugh escaping him as she explored his naked body without restraint.
Her hunger doubling with every second, she moved sinuously against his naked form, revelling in the abrasion of the curls of his body hair against her breasts, the warmth of his flat stomach next to hers. Lower still, the hard, heated force of his physical arousal lay like burning velvet against her thighs, making her yearn and ache with a hunger that could no longer be denied.
‘Ronan, please…’ she heard herself beg.
But Ronan had yet more skills in his repertoire, and he used them with the consummate artistry of genius, touching, stroking, kissing, taking tiny, sharp little bites at her skin. And when his knowing fingers found the warm, moist innermost core of her femininity she gasped out loud, twisting in total loss of control.
Frantic heat pulsed through her, radiating out from that aching spot deep at the heart of her being, and she knew nothing beyond that tiny focus, her whole thought process suspended in concentration on it. Each time she thought she could bear no more he found another variation on delight, another refinement of pleasure, and the intensity of her need increased until it was nearer to torture than rapture.
Only then did he slide over her, nudging her thighs apart with the hair-roughened strength of his. For a split second he hesitated, and she saw something flare in his darkened eyes that made her heart jolt in instinctive panic. But a second later the moment was forgotten as he entered her with a single fierce thrust, driving any chance of thought away for ever.
Lily lost her sense of time, of space, of being. She lost herself and became only one part of the whole they made together. Her hands clenched over the powerful muscles of his shoulders, her spine arching in desperate need to feel to the uttermost every urgent touch, every move of his body on hers. She was soaring higher and higher, spiralling wildly towards a blazing sun that would burn her up, leave her as nothing but ashes, and she didn’t care. All that mattered was reaching that peak of fulfilment.
As the final burning wave broke over her she heard a voice, ragged and hoarse, crying Ronan’s name out loud, and realised with a sense of shock that it was her own. The sound was so wild, so primitive she couldn’t recognise herself in it. Adrift on a heated sea of delight, she heard Ronan, too, cry out as he followed her into the oblivion of ecstasy.
But it wasn’t her name that was torn from his lips at the height of his passion. Nor was it any soft word of love nor expression of the pleasure that had possessed him. Instead it was a wild and husky sound that seemed to have been dragged from the depths of his soul.
