Sensation rocketed through her entire body. She’d never known anything so unbearably, exquisitely sweet. He licked and teased and pulled at her nipple, swirling his tongue in ever-widening circles until the fabric of her shift clung wet and heavy to her breast and the rosy flush of her skin showed through.
He gave her other breast the same careful attention, mouthing every curve. Pasting the linen to her aroused flesh.
“Yes,” he breathed, drawing back to look at her. With his hands he framed her bosom, pulling the wet fabric tight until the dark buds of her ni**les were thrust into relief. “Sweet heaven. Like rosebuds in a drift of fresh snow. And this”—he kissed his way down her belly, sinking lower and lower—“this, Susanna, is what will bring a man to his knees.” He pressed his brow to her navel. His mouth settled in the cleft of her thighs, warm and dangerous.
“Bram,” she whispered, frantic. “Bram, please get up. This can’t be good for your injured leg.”
He made a dismissive noise.
Well, now she’d botched matters. The stubborn fool would rather dive off a cliff than admit to a little pain. He certainly wasn’t going to rise to his feet now.
He groaned a little, nuzzling her thigh. His big hand cupped her bottom. “You wanted this, remember? You said you’d bring me to my knees.”
Of course she’d wanted him on his knees. Begging, pleading. Acknowledging her power over him. And now she had him doing exactly that—but something had gone all wrong. She was the one being conquered.
“Just kisses,” he said, framing her waist in his hands and pulling the fabric of her shift taut. “Just kisses, I swear. Let me show you how good it can be. I know exactly what you need.”
He pressed his open mouth to the linen covering her cleft. His tongue darted out, stroking her straight through the fabric, circling over that small, secret place that could bring her so much pleasure. Bliss forked through her, and her knees buckled.
Her breath caught, and she clutched wildly at his shoulders. “Bram, I can’t . . .”
His hands tightened about her waist. Pausing briefly, he murmured, “I have you. You’re safe with me. I won’t let you fall.”
“But—”
“Do you want me to stop?”
She couldn’t make herself answer.
His husky laugh teased her in unbearable ways. “I didn’t think so.”
He applied himself with purpose now, stroking more firmly with his tongue. Waves of pleasure pushed through her, and she surrendered to them, going limp in his strong embrace. With his shoulder, he gently prodded her knee to the side, spreading her wide to his kiss. Exquisite sensation mounted higher and higher. The moist heat of his mouth mingled with the dew of her arousal. Dampness surged between her legs.
His attentions centered on that sensitive, swollen bud at the crest of her sex. He licked and stroked and nibbled until she was helpless with pleasure. The muscles in her thighs began to quiver. A whimper eased from her throat.
And the world began to constrict. The remote din of music and laughter faded. The wind ceased to blow. Everything was forgotten. Nothing existed but the two of them: his wicked, talented mouth and her intense, spiraling joy. He pushed her higher and higher, until she tumbled straight over the edge into a soul-shaking climax.
She cried out with it, rocked by waves of pleasure.
As she came back to herself, he held her tight, pressing his brow to her belly and whispering soothing words. His thumbs sketched comforting circles on the small of her back.
She sank to her knees, and he pulled her down to the ground. There they lay beneath the willow tree, their limbs tangled and knotted as tree roots. Their combined breath made a little cloud of fog—as if they had their own sky hanging over them, here in this world apart.
He flexed his strong arms, drawing her close. It wasn’t until he had her molded against his chest, surrounded by his heat, that she realized she was trembling.
“Don’t be afraid,” he murmured, pressing kisses to her brow.
She wasn’t afraid, just . . . overwhelmed. What did this mean to him? What did it mean to her? Just kisses, she reminded herself. To him, these were just kisses. He didn’t want romantic attachments.
Don’t get any ideas, she sternly told her heart.
“Don’t be frightened,” he told her. “You’re so passionate. So beautiful. There’s so much more I could show you. So much pleasure we could share.”
“Tell me,” she heard herself say.
She didn’t know what possessed her to play innocent. Susanna certainly understood the concept of intercourse, if not from personal experience. She knew what the books said about coitus and human reproduction, and she’d worked alongside midwives, and she heard how the scullery maids giggled and gossiped among themselves. But she wanted to hear what it meant to him. What he thought it would mean between them.
He took her hand and brought it to his body, cupping her palm over the bulge tenting his breeches’s fall. “Feel this?”
She nodded. How could she fail to feel it? It wasn’t precisely a negligible size.