Free His Virtual Bride by Dee Brice Page B

he circled her waist, then guided her to the settee in front of the fireplace.
    "I shouldn't drink this." She looked around for some place to put the crystal down.
    Catching her hand, he urged the glass to her lips. "Only a few sips to relax you."
    Sighing, she parted her lips and took a delicate taste.
    He followed the path the rich pinot noir would take. Over her rough velvet tongue. Down the slender length of her satin-cool neck to the silky warmth of her stomach. He took the glass from her trembling fingers. Tilting her chin, he saw her eyes widen and darken before her lashes drifted closed. Her lips, made even rosier by the ruby wine, parted in soft invitation. An invitation, a temptation too irresistible to resist. He fought the raging need to drain the sweetness on her lips, in her mouth. Cupping her cheek, he feathered butterfly kisses over her eyebrows, lashes and the little button at the tip of her narrow nose. That slight imperfection took her face from beauty to rarer and soul–ravaging uniqueness. He could stare at her forever. Smiling, he silently amended, At least until that ravening need--that lustful beast inside me--demands more than just looking .
    "Geoff?"
    Her soft murmur beckoned him to kiss the lips that formed his name. He brushed his lips over hers. Returned to savor their soft, damp fullness. His tongue teased one corner of her lips. They parted and her tongue darted to his, inviting him into her mouth. Like a man dying of thirst he drank her. Savored the lingering taste of rich red wine. The underscore of whatever she'd used to clean her teeth. Inhaled her sigh as if he could not breathe without her.
    His own fingers trembling, he untied the filmy fichu hiding the swell of her breasts from his hungry gaze. Stroking the valley they formed, he deepened the kiss. Her soft moans fueled his hunger.
    Fighting primeval need to plunge into her, he willed gentleness into his hands and dealt with her bodice laces. Inch-by–inch he eased the satin and frothy lace from her torso.
     "No," he whispered against her trembling lips. "Don't hide from me, sweet." Spreading her arms wide, he took in every stunning detail her naked flesh afforded him. Her breasts were high and firm, the perfect match for his hands. Her pink-tipped nipples and dusky areolas would fit in his mouth and nurture the babes he'd plant in her fertile garden. Tempting him, her nipples furled. He did not--could not--resist sampling them. Bending, he lapped one rigid peak and gently rolled his fingers over and around the other.
    "Oooooh." Arching her back, she silently begged him for more.
    "In a minute, sweetheart, I'll give you everything you want." Compelled to rush, he pulled off his clothes and returned to her arms. Breasts to chest, they shared their warmth. But she shook as if overcome by fever. "Sweetheart, what ails you?"
    "It isn't enough."
    Smoothing an errant red-gold lock from her forehead, he kissed the tip of her nose. "This is just the beginning."
    She pouted. He kissed it from her lips.
    "I am wearing too many clothes while you are wearing none."
    Standing, he pulled her to her feet. Scant moments later she stood in a pile of pale green satin skirts and sheer, ivory silk petticoats. He thought her a vibrant flower. Her pale body as slender as a stem. Red–gold petals a halo around her head and at the apex of her thighs. Slender, trembling thighs. Her nipples rosehips begging for his lips.
    Her need or his own? He didn't know. Whoever owned the lust pounding in his cock and pulsing in her neck no longer mattered. Sweeping her into his arms, he carried her to the turned down bed, it's dark sheets the perfect contrast to her pale skin and burnished copper hair. He laid her down, positioned her arms and legs to display her attributes the way he'd wanted for months. One hand at her breast, the other on her mons. Her legs splayed as if awaiting his cock and eager to have it buried deep within her. Still wearing her hose and riband