Free Stormswept by Sabrina Jeffries Page B

enjoyment of what we shall do in this room together in no way reflects upon that.”
    Should she believe him? The way he made her feel had to be scandalous. Still, if he didn’t mind her having scandalous feelings, why should she? “You said we’d do more than kiss and touch. What did you mean?”
    She felt his dark smile to the tips of her toes. He grasped one end of the neckerchief tucked into her bodice and drew the piece of silk toward him so it whispered over her skin like butterfly kisses. Then he skimmed his knuckles over the swells of her partially exposed breasts, making her breath catch in her throat.
    His voice sounded almost strangled when he answered, “I think ’tis something better understood in the doing. All I ask is that you trust me.”
    That had an ominous ring. “Why?”
    “Because I intend to give you pleasure.” Then he began to undress her, showering her with hot, fervent kisses that made her blood race.
    Only when her corset fell away, leaving her in just her shift, did she pull back. Her high-necked nightdress hadn’t been nearly so revealing, and she felt almost naked. Still, with the fiery look he gave her, she scarcely noticed the chilly air.
    But when he began undressing, too, it gave her a start. After the night he’d caressed her beneath her nightdress while remaining fully clothed, she’d assumed lovemaking was one-sided—he did things to her and she let him.
    Apparently not, for he now wore only his breeches. And when she lifted her hand to stroke his bare chest and he growled, “Yes, touch me. God, please touch me,” she needed no more invitation to explore the dusting of black curls, the well-defined muscles, the skin taut and smooth over hard sinew, like silk over steel.
    Unlike her brothers, who were built like battle-axes, he was lean and sleek as a rapier and nearly as frightening, for she could feel the strength he held in check. The longer she stroked his skin, the more quickly his chest rose and fell, as if he couldn’t quite catch his breath.
    Oddly enough, neither could she. Especially when he moved her hand to the buttons of his breeches, his eyes darkening to a rich cobalt. She jerked back in shock.
    “I don’t suppose you’re ready for that,” he said in a rough rumble. “Never mind. I can do it.”
    He undid his breeches and removed them, although mercifully he left his drawers on. This time when he took her in his arms, she felt something she hadn’t noticed before, a hard bulge between his thighs that pressed into her skin.
    “Juliana,” he said hoarsely, “I want to touch you all over, as a husband touches his wife. Will you let me?”
    All over. It sounded wonderful. And scary, too. “Yes.”
    He wasted no time in slipping his hand inside her shift to cup her breast. With a happy sigh, she pressed herself into his palm. He’d done this before, and she’d liked it. A lot.
    He thumbed her nipples until they tingled, then filled both hands with her breasts. When she clutched his waist,he ravished her mouth, delving deep with his wicked tongue. She scarcely noticed when he dragged her shift down her until it whispered to the floor about her ankles.
    “Oh, Rhys,” she whispered, twining her arms about his neck.
    “There’s more, my love. So much more.” He gave her a scorching look as his hand slid sensuously down her belly to the secret, aching place between her legs. Unlike that night in her room, he was bold about what he wanted. Not content with merely cupping her and rubbing the cleft, he stroked further, until she felt his finger plunge inside her.
    What in heaven’s name? She tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let her, capturing her mouth with a possessive kiss. This time his tongue stabbed restless and deep as his finger probed inside her. Soon her faint urge to protest faded. What he was doing was so delicious, she wanted more. His fingers created a strange ache and then soothed it, all at once. Blindly, she grabbed his shoulders,