He suddenly stilled, a groan wrenched from his throat.
“Forgive me, Clara,” he muttered, his lips brushing the curve of her breast. “I do not mean to frighten you.”
“I am not frightened,” she denied, shivering as his hot breath stroked over her skin. And she was not. The feel of his warm body pressed to her own was sending a wave of tingling pleasure through her blood, the stroke of his lips making her forget the importance of breathing. Still, for a woman accustomed to a strictly predictable life, she had to admit that it was difficult to plunge into the unknown without a few qualms. “I suppose I might be a bit . . . nervous.”
He pulled back to regard her with a searching gaze. “I wish you to be absolutely sure, kitten. There must be no regrets.”
Her heart faltered at his tender expression. Oh my, for the moment he was hers. All hers.
“I am sure,” she whispered, her fingers softly stroking the aquiline planes of his countenance. “’Tis only that I would feel more at ease if I knew what was to occur.”
He remained silent a long moment, as if searching to assure himself that she did indeed wish to be in his arms, and then a slow smile curved his lips.
“Very well, my logical Miss Dawson, we shall do this your way,” he murmured. “You will know precisely what is about to occur.”
“Hawksley . . .”
“Shh.” He pressed his mouth lightly to hers. “First, kitten, I am going to taste that delectable skin of yours. I am going to kiss and lick and nibble you from the top of your head to the tip of your toes. And then I shall make my way back to your soft lips.”
Without giving her time to consider his husky words, his mouth was already in motion. He stroked over her cheek, nipping gently at the line of her jaw and then down the curve of her neck. He paused at the base of her neck to kiss the frantic pulse that beat there, his tongue brushing over the spot before he was trailing ever lower.
Clara sucked in a hissing breath, her eyes squeezing shut.
Sweet saints.
She had thought that there could be nothing beyond the pleasure Hawksley had given to her in the carriage. To be honest, she was not certain a woman could survive anything more pleasurable.
Now she realized that there was something incredibly sensuous in having a handsome pirate devouring her with such methodical care.
Dropping soft kisses upon the curve of her breasts, he gave each aching nipple a lick of his tongue before moving down to her stomach. Clara arched upward, unable to hold still as a sharp burst of excitement clutched deep within her.
“So sweet . . .” Hawksley murmured as he tasted the curve of her hip and then down the tense muscles of her thigh. “So soft.”
“Oh my.” Her hands clutched at the blanket beneath her. “This is . . .”
“Yes, kitten?” he demanded, slipping off the bed as he ran his tongue down the inside of her leg.
“This is wondrous.”
His chuckle tickled over the arch of her foot. “You are wondrous. As delicate as the rarest flower.”
She swallowed a moan as he shifted to torment her other foot, lazily exploring her toes and then her ankle before moving on to her knee. She would not survive, she thought as she clenched her teeth.
Already she could feel that damp heat between her legs. Could feel the glorious pressure beginning to build. And those demonic lips were only adding to the fierce ache.
Using his teeth he nipped at the inside of her thigh, making her hips lift off the mattress as the sharp pleasure speared through her.
“Hawksley, I am uncertain I can bear much more,” she rasped.
“Kitten, I have only begun,” he warned her, his hands grasping her legs and tugging them apart.
Feeling oddly vulnerable as he lay between her thighs, she lifted herself onto her elbows and gazed at his shadowed countenance.
“What are you doing?”
“I am going to taste you,” he murmured, holding her gaze as one slender finger slipped into her slick heat. “I am going to taste you here.”
“Hawksley, no . . .” she began to protest, only to have her words stolen as he shifted upward and she felt his tongue part her tender flesh to discover the tiny nub of pleasure. “Oh, yes.”
She flopped back onto the bed, her head tilted back as she bowed beneath the intense sensations.
His tongue was relentless as it teased and stroked her need to the very edge of explosion. At the same time his finger was pushing steadily into her, smoothing in and out with a rhythm her hips instinctively matched.
The bliss was so near. The shattering pleasure beaconing with desperate force.
Her teeth gritted as she gave a strangled groan. “Please, Hawksley, I need you,” she pleaded.
With a last soft kiss upon her thigh he slowly surged back over her, his eyes stark with a need that sent a shiver through her body.
“Clara, I am going to enter you,” he prepared her in rough tones. “I shall try to take care, but I cannot be certain it will not hurt you.”
She framed his face with her hands. “I am ready.”
His eyes slid shut as his brow furrowed with concentration, clearly determined to hold himself in check. Settling more firmly between her spread legs, he nudged the tip of his shaft into her.
Clara instinctively tensed as he slid deeper, stretching her with his steady thrust.
Above her Hawksley pressed his forehead to hers. “I am no expert, kitten, but I believe this will go easier for you if you try to relax.”
Her fingers dug into his shoulders. There was no pain, but she could not deny a measure of discomfort.
“You must recall, Hawksley, I am a rather small person,” she said. “You do not seem to fit properly.”
She felt his shoulders shake beneath her fingers. “Perhaps not at the moment; still, I promise this will work just fine.”
Shifting beneath him, Clara opened her mouth to suggest he make an attempt at reducing his size when he gave a low groan and with one swift motion lodged himself deep within her.
Clara gasped at the brief stab of pain. Thankfully it was short lived, and as it receded all that was left was the sensation of him filling her. Utterly and completely.
“Forgive me, Clara,” he whispered against her temple.
“It is all right,” she murmured, her fingers unclenching from his shoulders to run a soft path down the curve of his spine. “The pain is gone.”
“Then let us see if we can make this a night to remember,” he murmured, claiming her lips in a demanding kiss.
Lost in the pleasure of his kiss, Clara was barely aware of the shallow thrust of his hips, not until she discovered herself moving in harmony with his rhythm as the sweet pressure began to build again.
Wrapping her legs about him, she tangled her fingers in his hair. With every stroke his chest brushed over her sensitive nipples, increasing her pleasure until she could barely breathe.
Oh yes, this was what she had longed for, she acknowledged as she groaned in approval. This was what she had secretly fantasized during the long hours of the night.
Someone to desire her. To hold her. To keep the aching loneliness at bay.
She heard him growl as his thrusts became more insistent, his pace quickening.
“Dear God . . . Clara . . . I cannot . . .”
She unwittingly pulled at his hair, her back arching as she hovered on the edge of bliss.
“Please do not halt,” she pleaded.
His hands shifted beneath her thighs, spreading her wide as he pumped himself ever deeper within. Clara became rigid as a cry was wrenched from her throat. Then that glorious delight exploded through her, making her shake uncontrollably as she tumbled over the edge.