Merger By Matrimony (15 page)

Destiny didn't say anything and he turned to look at her, wondering whether she'd even heard what he'd asked. He found her looking right back at him, her green eyes curious and comprehending.

‘Are you
jealous
of Henri?' she asked in a faltering voice, at which he forced a bark of laughter out.

‘Me?
Jealous?
I've never been jealous of anyone in my entire life and I certainly don't intend to start now!'

The blue eyes that met hers were fiercely proud, but she
knew.
She knew that he had been jealous, even if his jealousy was only based on the sheer egotistical physical grounds of not liking the idea that someone else might have touched her when he was still interested, and the knowledge made her heart flutter wildly inside her.

She wanted to tell him that there was no need, that she'd only ever loved one man and that was him. The admission whipped the breath from her throat and she stared back glassily at him, her lips slightly apart. She turned away, but not before he'd seen that brief flash of hunger that mirrored his own.

‘Does it make you feel good?' he taunted softly. ‘That a big, strong man like me might be reduced to a pitiful emotion like jealousy?' He lifted one hand out of the water and swung her head to face him. One side of her face was now wet and slippery.

‘Yes,' she threw back honestly. ‘It makes me feel good.'

Now both hands were out of the water and cupping her face, stroking her cheekbones, and she could feel all her good intentions disintegrating like sand through a strainer. She couldn't fight him any more. What she felt was powerful enough to destroy every item in the feeble armoury she had in reserve. She was sick of looking at him and wanting to touch him and telling herself that she shouldn't, that it was wrong. She was sick of being scared and out of her depth. She loved him and she wanted him and if he was only aware of one of those two things, then that was enough. She would leave England all too soon. Why leave with regrets for things undone?

She ran the tip of her tongue over her lips, aware of the rampantly sexual come-on signal she was giving and, when he bent his head towards hers with a groan, she sighed and offered herself to him with abandonment.

‘W
HY
don't we leave all these dirty dishes and go upstairs?' he murmured into her ear, and she gave a whimper in response. She really didn't care where they were, just so long as she could feel his hard body pressed against hers.

They walked up the stairs to his bedroom, with Destiny noticing absolutely nothing on the way. If someone had asked her what the colour of the wallpaper was on the walls, or whether she was walking on carpet, wooden flooring, tiles or red hot coals, for that matter, she would not have been able to give an answer. In fact, she felt as though she were floating, and his fingers laced through hers were like fire against her skin.

By the time they finally made it to his bedroom she knew that she was shaking like a leaf, a combination of excitement and nerves, and she raised her eyes hesitantly to his. At the door, she paused wordlessly.

‘I suppose you must be accustomed to this…sort of thing…' Her voice was barely above a whisper and he gazed at her softly.

‘I'm not celibate, if that's what you mean. And there's no need to be scared…'

‘You don't mind that… I mean, with all your experience… Does it bother you that I'm a…?'

‘Virgin?'

Destiny nodded, blushing at the bluntness of the word, now that it was out in the open. Never in a million years would she have imagined that her own lack of experience
would have left her feeling so vulnerable. She could stop right now; she knew that. Call a halt and walk right back down those stairs. But she also knew that she wouldn't. This was
right.

‘I have never felt so honoured in my life,' he said huskily, which brought an unsteady smile to her lips. ‘Come with me.' He led her into the massive
en suite
bathroom and then sat her down in a wicker chair by the window.

‘What are you doing?'

‘I'm going to relax you.'

She watched as he began running a bath, testing the temperature every so often with his fingers, adding bubble bath that smelt of cinnamon. The bath was grand enough to suit the dimensions of the bathroom. It was a Victorian masterpiece, with clawed feet. A large, masculine bath that blended well with the forest-green and white tiles surrounding it. She could easily imagine him lying in it, long, indolent, one arm draped lazily over the side, eyes closed. And, of course, naked.

The thought made her pulses begin to race once more.

What, she thought a little hysterically, did one do with a man's naked body? Would he be as big and awesome
down there
as his build suggested? She was so lacking in experience that she doubted she would know what to touch. The idea made her feel faint and she closed her eyes briefly.

‘Not dozing off, are you?'

Her eyes flew open to find him standing above her, smiling.

‘No,' she squeaked, gripping the arms of the wicker chair.

‘Stand up.'

Destiny obeyed. Without saying so, she knew that he
was well aware of the battle raging between her fear at stepping into the unknown and her excitement at the prospect, and he was taking control. She also knew that she could trust him implicitly.

‘Now, my darling, just you stand there…' He gently kissed her eyes and stroked her eyebrows with his thumbs.

If only she knew what agony it was, he thought to himself. If only she knew that he was damned nervous himself, though not of the physical act, as she was. Understandably. No, he just wanted to touch her everywhere and in every way that would be right for her, make her the recipient of his glorious passion and feel that body of hers respond to his the way he knew she would. There was something touchingly childlike about this tall woman who could tackle anything life threw at her but this.

He rolled his fingers along her collarbone and very slowly began to undo the long zipper at the back of her dress, feeling her quick, shallow breathing under his hands. It slipped to the ground and pooled around her ankles. God, he was trembling almost as much as she was! He moved to unclasp her bra from the front.

Her breasts spilled out in all their bounty.

He could feel urgency and hunger hit his loins with gut-wrenching force and he forced himself to breathe deeply and evenly. Given his way, he would ravish her right here and now, on the bathroom floor, and, God, he probably wouldn't even have time to strip himself of all his clothes, but she was like a thoroughbred filly that needed to be treated with the utmost care.

The bra was tossed onto the black ash linen basket. Her head was thrown back and her rapid breathing made her chest fall and rise. Her nipples were large and erect,
waiting to be touched. And touched they would be, but not yet. He would wait for her to come to him.

The bathroom light was on a dimmer switch, and he had dimmed it so that no harsh light invaded the room. Instead, gentle shadows washed over them with every small movement.

Her body was perfectly toned. Of course, he knew that—had fantasised about it for the nightmarishly long week that had stretched between them since he had last seen her—but, still, seeing her standing in front of him made him feel winded. Naked, with her large breasts resting against her ribcage, the slender waist, beneath which dipped the elastic band of her underwear.

He knelt in front of her and it momentarily flashed through his head that in every respect she had brought him to his knees. Then he curled one finger on either side of her briefs and peeled them down. This time he had to close his eyes and steady himself. Just for a second. Just long enough to get himself and his throbbing body back into some kind of control. He inhaled deeply, breathing in her womanhood, then ran his hands lightly up either side of her thighs, enjoying it as she shuddered beneath him.

‘Bath time,' he murmured, standing up.

‘Already? Must I?'

‘It'll relax you.'

‘I feel relaxed already,' Destiny said, tentatively placing her hand on his cheek, then running it up through his dark hair.

‘You haven't begun to relax yet,' he promised softly, and she obediently climbed into the water, which was at a perfect temperature. Warm and so full of bubbles that her body was obscured by them.

He slipped round to the back of the bath and for a few
minutes transported her to bliss as he kneaded the muscles at the back of her neck and along her shoulders.

The tips of her hair, hanging in the water, were damp and darker than the halo of blonde he breathed into, kissing the nape of her neck, then he moved and lathered his hands with soap.

This time he didn't have to tell her what to do. She stood up, wet, with an expression of pleasure on her face. When he began sliding his soapy hands along her shoulders and arms, she smiled with the languid contentment of a cat.

The thought of running his hands over her breasts produced such feelings of exquisite anticipation in him that he almost wanted to delay the moment for as long as possible.

But they were waiting for him, like fruit waiting to be savoured, and savour them he did, massaging the soap over them, drawing the pouting nipples to throbbing hardness, while she moaned unsteadily. Then along the flat planes of her stomach, along her thighs and finally, with slow, rhythmic strokes, over the mound of her femininity. He felt it pulsate under the palm of his hand and ran a finger along the crease, finding the nub which he stroked until her moaning became faster and hoarser.

Rinsing off the soap was something she did in record time, and now his hunger was ripening into a steady throb. He dried her and led her into his bedroom and onto the king-sized bed with its tan and terracotta duvet and puffy pillows.

She felt a fleeting sense of wonder at what she was knowingly about to step into. The great big unknown. And then a twinge of alarm that for all her reasoning about enjoying this while it lasted, she was about to jump off a precipice and the fall might prove fatal.

It didn't last long. She lay on the bed, naked and beyond the point of turning back, and watched him greedily as he removed his clothes.

The body she'd imagined was even more impressive than the vague picture she'd conjured up in her newly, irrepressibly fertile head.

Every inch of him was tautly muscled. His limbs were aggressively long and athletic. He watched her watching him and smiled lazily, enjoying her obvious pleasure afforded by the view.

‘Let's take our time,' he murmured, when he was lying on his side next to her, their faces almost touching. ‘The best things in life need to be savoured for the longest possible time.' He kissed her gently, delicately almost, his tongue licking the contours of her mouth then invading it with supreme thoroughness. Destiny, already on the brink, cradled his head with her hands, then arched back to enjoy the slow path of his mouth as it nibbled and licked her shoulders, finally reaching her aching breasts.

He levered his powerful body over hers, supporting himself with his arms, and devoted all his attention to her full breasts, stroking them with his tongue, sucking the nipples into his mouth, arousing her until she wanted to cry out for satisfaction.

When his head moved inexorably down, so that his exploration of her body could be complete, she thought that she might faint with the intense pleasure of it.

He parted her willing thighs, then after a few teasing nuzzles into the soft down of her hair, he buried his face against her and she gave a little cry of ecstasy as his tongue found its spot and pressed on it in small flicking motions.

Her body seemed to be moving of its own accord. How could she ever have worried that she
wouldn't know what
to do?
She raised her hips and curled her fingers into his hair, pushing him down against her, writhing to accommodate his mouth. With wanton lack of inhibition, she rolled the palms of her hands over her nipples, stimulating them, while the lower half of her body continued to do its amazing, erotic dance.

He wasn't about to give her the isolated satisfaction of an orgasm now, though. He could feel mounting need, but before it crested he pulled away, and replaced his mouth with his own fullness, inserting himself gently; after a moment of rigidity, she bucked frantically against him, taking him in and panting as they both came to a shuddering climax.

There was no embarrassment when he eased himself off her and lay next to her, propping himself up on his elbows so that he could inspect her flushed, satisfied face.

Destiny had never felt so free in her life before. Some measure of reason was beginning to set in, but she felt no regrets. Just complete and utter joy that her first act of lovemaking had been with the man she loved. Never mind that he wasn't aware of the fact and never would be. In her own head, and in her heart, she'd not betrayed herself.

‘That was…' she said drowsily, searching for just the right word, ‘…exquisite.'

‘Ditto…' He kissed the tip of her nose.

‘Don't fib,' she chastised teasingly. ‘I didn't
do
anything…'

‘How can you say that? The proof of what you did was right in front of your eyes! Not to mention in other parts as well…' He gave a slow, sexy chuckle. ‘And, in a very short while, there'll be more ample proof of what you do to me clamouring for a bit more of the same…'

‘Will there?' Her green eyes widening innocently. ‘Or are you just saying that to make me feel good…?'

‘Of course, I
do
want you to feel good—' he stroked her legs then dipped his fingers to slide gracefully over her wetness ‘—and I think I've succeeded…but I think my little beauty needs a rest before…we rediscover each other's bodies…'

‘Never mind a rest…I could do with a shower. Would it be all right if I had one?'

‘Only if it would be all right if I joined you…'

Later, fresh after a shower which had taken much longer than any of the showers she'd ever had on the compound, due to a mutual lack of conviction that getting out was the object of the exercise, they found themselves back in the kitchen and confronting the forgotten pile of unwashed dishes.

With a bit of imagination, Destiny found that she could create her own little bubble, in which this wonderful domesticity, alongside the man she loved, would be long-lasting. He washed the dishes while she dried them, and their conversation was lazy, relaxed, teasing and utterly unlike what she would have imagined having with this man only weeks previously.

Whoever said that love needed time to flourish? And with all the right environmental conditions? It was more like a weed, capable of sprouting forth in the most hostile of places and, once sprouted, of growing with rapid and tenacious speed.

‘I guess I'd better be getting back home,' she said reluctantly, when all the dishes were dried. She neatly placed the cloth over the rail of the Aga and felt him move up behind her until his hands were on her waist and his chin nestled against the crook of her shoulder.

‘Why?'

‘Why what? Why should I leave?'

‘Why
should
you leave?' he murmured provocatively. ‘When there's so much left for us to do…? Bit difficult to make love when we're miles apart, isn't it? And I've never been much of a fan of telephone sex… Always seemed like a recipe for frustration to me, although it has to be said that getting dirty down the end of line might have a few attractions…' He slipped his hand underneath the shirt she had borrowed from him and cupped one of her breasts, jiggling it so that it bounced gently against his palm. ‘I love your nipples. They're so…' He nibbled her earlobe, sending little shivers of delight racing down her spine, and she leant languorously back against him.

‘Big. Everything about me is big,' she said with a little laugh.

‘And does that bother you?'

‘Not really.' She shrugged and thought about it. ‘Sometimes I used to feel a bit awkward at having to talk down to all the other women on the compound, but on the whole it's been to my advantage. If you can call it an advantage to be opted for all the more physical jobs that require a bit of strength.' Now his hands caressed both her breasts, pausing only to rub thumbs over the peaks of her nipples now and again. She felt a familiar stirring down below. The kind of stirring that turned her brain to cotton wool.