Page 31 of A Night of Forever
“So responsive. So beautiful,” he assured her, drawing back to look down her body to where his hand stroked her intimately.
His gaze flicked to her and she locked onto his hypnotic stare.
“I want…”
He pressed a kiss to her bared stomach. “You have no idea what you want, my darling, but I’ll show you.”
With that promise ringing in her ears he moved lower, pushing her nightgown out of the way, baring her body completely to his heated gaze.
She was not a coward. She wanted him in every way a woman could want a man. Had she even lived before he touched her? She longed for him, and a shudder of excitement rippled through her. But when his hot breath blew on the most intimate part of her, she froze.
This was too decadent—hewas too decadent.
With his dark and stormy eyes fixed on her face, as if daring her to stop him, he lowered his mouth. The kiss between her thighs was beyond intimate.
She could not believe that he was kissing her there. She could not believe she waslettinghim. It was mortifying, yet at the same time she knew she’d beg him to continue if he stopped.
Isobel’s fingers threaded through his thick curls, tangling in their silky softness as she clutched his head, urging him closer.
Anticipation sent a series of tremors ricocheting through her, but it did not prepare her for what he did next. Gently he parted her folds, and his heated lips tasted the very heart of her womanhood. When his tongue slid through her curls and licked the most intimate part of her, she moaned, and her hips lifted in desperate need.
When he draped one of her legs over his shoulder, opening her wider to his ministrations, her body exploded with want and desire.
And still his talented tongue licked at her with exquisite expertise, sucking and teasing and nibbling until she lost any sense of time or place and let her dark, dangerous lover take her where he willed.
She hovered on an airy precipice, her soul teetering on the edge of nothingness. Sensations overwhelmed her. Her limbs went taut, her body shook, and she felt as if she were losing her mind to the pleasure. Then his wicked tongue entered her, and she came apart, plunging over the edge into an abyss of bliss. Writhing against his mouth, her fingers clutched in his hair in the sweet, amazing tide of her release. She cried out his name. “Oh, Arend. Oh, God.”
At this moment she would let this sensual man do anything to her. She tried not to listen, but her heart begged her to let it love this man.
She was still humming with the joy of it when he began to move up her body.
“Beautiful. You are so beautiful,” he whispered in that sensual French accent.
She reached for him, and slid her palms slowly up muscled biceps to his shoulders. She wished he were naked; she wanted to feel his skin. Then she wrapped her arms around his neck and held him close. “That was incredible.”
He smiled and brushed her lips with a kiss so tender she wanted to weep. “There is more, so much more,cherie,but not tonight. Tonight we cannot linger. It’s almost dawn. You must get back. It’s too dangerous, and I want your first time making love to be perfect—in a bed.”
“Must we leave?” How could there be more than this perfection? No wonder women flocked to him.
“Yes.” He nuzzled her nose with his own. “Don’t be impatient, my darling girl. Good things come to those who learn to wait. I promise.”
She sighed in resignation and disappointment.
—
She lay back, helpless and limp, while he retied the little ribbons of her nightgown. Reluctantly he pulled her to her feet and knotted her robe tightly together before placing a kiss on her nose.
He had not expected to go so far with her tonight. Hell, it was close to morning. But the feel of her, the scent of her, the sight of her in her night attire had loosened his control.
He was still as hard as rock. He wanted to race home while her taste was still on his lips and pleasure himself. He’d been doing that a lot lately. Always in his dreams, Isobel was lying naked before him. From now on he wouldn’t have to imagine. He would remember. And memory was worse than imagination, because imagination had not gifted him with the innocence of her response. His armor was fractured, and now his jaded heart wanted to break free. Its liberation would not help either of them.
If he didn’t send her back inside soon, he might give in, might take her up against one of the stall walls. He’d hurt her, and that desperate, jaded heart never wanted to see Isobel hurt—by him or any man.
He wanted her to have choices when this was over. A woman who’d lost her virginity found it almost impossible to make a good match. Men could play but God forbid a woman, but the idea of any other man bedding Isobel filled him with such despair that his body seemed to be consumed with pain. How ironic that of the two of them, it was he who was more likely to be hurt when he had to let her go.
Wordlessly he took her by the hand to the stable doors. Shouldering one open wider, he checked the open area and then the path back to the house. They were empty.
“Go,” he said. “I’ll meet you in Richmond Park tomorrow. You are taking Sealey for his outing?”
