My Darling Caroline (17 page)

Boldly she held his gaze in a timeless grasp until finally she whispered in a deep, husky, impassioned voice, “You were wrong about one thing, Brent. Your feelings mean everything to me, and I promise never to hurt you again.”

With gentle acceptance in her heart, and knowing with peace and finality that the time had come for them, she slowly closed her eyes, tilted her head back, and pulled at the sash around her waist until it opened for him, exposing to all of him—his eyes, his touch, his soul—the only remaining part of herself he had yet to know.

Brent could not recall a time from his past when he had felt such a surge of raw, tumultuous emotions consuming him from the inside and making him weak. Never in his life had he laid eyes on anything as beautiful as the vision in front of him.

She stood no more than a foot away, her left side to the fire, her lovely face innocent and soft, hair falling to her waist in luminescent waves. As the deep-purple silk fell away from her, the flickering glow from the hearth played delicately on the pearlescent sheen of her skin, the crested nipple exposed not to his palm but to his eyes, and on the few dark, shiny curls escaping the shadows between her legs to reflect the firelight.

Slowly he began to trace her nipple with the tips of his fingers, moving from her breast down the length of her body, skimming her waist, her stomach, moving gradually to her hip and down the outside of her thigh. He felt her shiver, felt gooseflesh rise to his fingertips, and with that he softly moved in until his knuckles grazed the inside of her leg.

“Caroline…”

“I’m scared,” she whispered.

That admission made his heart swell with tenderness. Dropping his hand, he slowly stood to face her. She still hadn’t opened her eyes, hadn’t moved, but he felt her trembling. He cupped her face with his palms and leaned in to brush his lips against hers.

“Trust me now,” he pleaded quietly.

She nodded imperceptibly and whispered, “I do.”

In that instant, he knew he belonged to her as he had never belonged to another. He ran his thumb along her jaw, placed his hand behind her neck, and covered her mouth with his.

The initial contact was both shocking and sweet, familiar and awkward. They had certainly kissed before, but not with the mutual understanding of what was about to happen between them. He toyed with her lips almost timidly at first, giving her time to adjust, then increased the pressure, running his tongue back and forth until she opened for him.

Slowly she relaxed, kissing him back with growing need, raising her hands to run her fingers through his hair. She tasted of brandy, smelled of violets, and felt as delicate and smooth as a rose petal.

He ran his hands down her neck to grasp her shoulders just inside her silk wrap. He moved his mouth, his tongue, in gentle rhythm against hers, and she followed his lead, allowing the magic to consume her. He caressed her skin with his fingertips, then carefully, gradually, lowered her dressing gown over her upper arms and pulled his lips from hers.

She opened her eyes and looked at him, uncertain. “I…I’m not sure what to do.”

That melted his heart. With a comforting smile he raised one hand and placed it on her cheek, the other he rested on her chest, his fingers stroking her collarbone in tiny, wispy movements.

“Tonight I’ll do everything,” he reassured in a husky timbre. Then before she realized what was happening, he pulled at the purple silk until it slid from her body and onto the cold floor.

He felt a shiver escape her, and she instantly dropped her lashes. With that he grasped her chin and raised her head, forcing her to look at him.

“Don’t be ashamed,” he beseeched, his gaze piercing hers. “I’m the only one who matters now and I think you’re beautiful.”

Caroline knew, when the shock of those words seeped in, the tears would begin to flow, and that was the last thing she wanted to happen on what she now considered to be her wedding night.

“You’re the first man ever to call me beautiful,” she disclosed in a thick, choked voice.

He grinned. “I knew I’d be the first for something.”

She smiled in return and cautiously reached for the buttons on his shirt.

Immediately he covered her hand. “I’ll do it.”

She dropped her arm and stood before him unmoving, watching until he’d removed his shirt and tossed it on the settee.

They stood only a foot apart, he undressed to his waist, she completely naked and feeling more vulnerable than she’d ever felt in her life.

Gently he reached out and lightly stroked the tops of her breasts with the fingers of both hands, inciting a gasp from her lips and a sudden weakening of her legs. His eyes melded with hers in silent communication as his face became serious once more, intense. He stroked her, then cupped her fully, his palms rotating to make her nipples tingle and stand out against his hands. Within seconds she was breathless, shivering from new sensations beginning to burn inside of her, and flushing not from the warmth of the fire, but from a rising inner heat now slowly starting to replace the apprehension.

Instinctively she reached for him, and understanding her growing desire and need to feel, he released her, moving his hands to take off his boots. Those discarded, he unbuttoned his trousers and removed the remainder of his clothing to stand before her as naked as she.

She closed her eyes, partly because she couldn’t bring herself to look down and partly because she suddenly felt so nervous she wanted to bolt from his bedchamber.

He must have felt her uncertainty, for within seconds he wrapped one palm around her neck, grasped her around the waist with the other, pulled her toward him, and lowered his mouth.

The kissing began slowly, allowing the passion to increase at its own pace. He caressed her back and neck, ran his fingers through her hair, all the while keeping a distance between them, for they still hadn’t fully embraced. He teased her lips apart, forcing her to open for him. Then he invaded her warmth, searching, and when he found it, grasped her tongue and began sucking it as he’d done so perfectly the day in the garden.

As with that day, a sudden bolt of lightning passed through her body, causing fire to erupt between her legs. Anticipating her response, he pulled her tightly against him, holding her firmly so she couldn’t help but feel every muscle, every cord of strength, every point of hardness he possessed.

She whimpered softly and wrapped her arms around his neck, relishing in his size, his body, so firm and warm against her. The curls on his chest teased her nipples. His erection, hard and hot, caressed her belly as if begging for attention.

She held his head with her hands and kissed him back fervently, possessively. He groaned deeply when he felt her response to his touch, her eagerness, and finally he reluctantly released her mouth and looked into her eyes.

She stood against him, panting, flushed. His lids had narrowed, his breathing was labored, and after what seemed like an eternity to her, he reached down, grasped her around the knees, lifted her into his arms, and carried her to his bed.

She nestled her face in his neck, clinging to him, filling her mind with his feel, his scent, until he gently laid her on the sheet. She stretched out willingly, expecting him to lie beside her, but instead, he stood back to view her body unclothed.

“Brent—”

“Shh…” His gaze traveled down the length of her. “I’ve wanted this for months, Caroline. Let me look at you.”

Boldly she allowed herself to look at him as well, to see a man completely for the first time, and the man before her looked like a god, exactly as he’d felt beneath her hands and fingers—hard, firm, beautiful of face and form. And as she placed her gaze on the part of him she’d never seen, she wasn’t overcome with bland curiosity or repulsion, but instead felt a surge of desperation to know the unknown, to touch him as she’d never done before, to stroke him, to feel him enter her. Suddenly passion filled her senses, and she was no longer afraid.

For Brent, to see her body bathed in firelight, nipples exposed and aroused to hard peaks, her slim, tapered waist leading to softly curved hips and smooth, silky legs, was not so much a viewing as it was an unveiling for his eyes of what his mind had been trying to imagine for weeks. She was perfect, voluptuous yet slender, enticing and seductive, and more than he’d ever thought she could be.

He lowered himself onto the bed beside her, leaning against her as he crossed one leg over hers. He placed his left palm on her head, his thumb stroking her brow, and with the right he began to caress her stomach lightly in small, slow circles.

“Do you know what I think, Caroline?” he asked thickly, almost thoughtfully.

She bit her lip nervously and tried to smile. “That you wish you’d married someone with longer legs?”

He chuckled softly and leaned in to kiss her cheek. “No, that isn’t it,” he murmured, moving his lips to the crook of her neck. “I think dreams, for most people, are perfection.” He ran his tongue along her jaw, feeling her respond to the touch. Then slowly he raised his eyes to hers once more, dropping his voice to a husky whisper. “But my dreams of you, Caroline, were nothing compared to the real thing. You are lovelier than anything I’ve ever dreamed before.”

She stared at him for several seconds, then her eyes filled with tears, and that was his undoing. He cupped her face in his hands and lowered his mouth, kissing her not sweetly or softly, but fully, hungrily, passionately, wiping away her teardrops with his thumbs.

She wrapped her arms around his neck to hold him close, and finally, as if waiting any longer would be simply unbearable, he moved his hand to cup her breast, kneading the fullness, gently squeezing her nipple, rolling it with his forefinger and thumb until she moaned.

He released her mouth and began a trail of kisses down her jaw, neck, and chest. She breathed rapidly, hands on his shoulders, eyes closed, and when at last he covered her free nipple with his mouth, she jumped and clutched at him, pulling him closer.

And closer he moved, sucking, tasting, caressing as he’d wanted to do for so long, increasing the pace, groaning with the touch, feeling the blood rush through his veins as his heart pounded in his chest. She responded in kind by coming alive beneath him, allowing the passion to engulf her. He ran his hand from her breast slowly down her waist to caress her hip, desperately wanting to touch her intimately, to stroke her between her legs, to feel just how ready she was for him.

“You feel so good,” he whispered, his voice strained with desire. “I’ve wanted so long to touch you.”

Caroline had never felt more out of control and so filled with cravings and desperate needs she didn’t understand. He was so gentle with her, so giving, and she wanted him now more than anything she’d ever wanted in her life.

That thought in mind, she took his hand in hers, raised it to her lips, kissed his palm just once, and lightly placed it between her legs.

She shivered from the intimacy. He groaned as if he hadn’t touched anything so delicate or precious in his life. Then he was kissing her again, covering her mouth with his in a sudden fever of need. He wrapped his free arm around her neck to hold her close as he began to move his hand, his fingers, slowly at first, then more and more intimately with each stroke until she instinctively raised her hips for more.

She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think as her mind emptied of all but thoughts of him and the magic he created with his hands and mouth. She whimpered softly as his tongue clasped hers once again in a now familiar embrace. Her heart thundered in her breast, and her body ached with need for something else, something moving closer. She ran her fingers through the curls on his chest, lightly rubbing the pads of her thumbs across his nipples.

He drew a sharp breath at that and slowly released her mouth, lifting his head to look at her. His face was hard, strained, his eyes narrowed and glazed, his breathing raspy and short. He watched her, focusing intently on her face, and then she realized why as he gently pushed his finger inside of her.

She gasped and arched her back slightly, closing her eyes to the exquisite sensations, and after several marvelous seconds of savoring the feel of that one small part of him invading her warmth, he started moving his finger in and out while he returned to stroking his thumb up and down along her cleft, slower now but with the same intensity.

“You’re so wet,” he said in a rough, shaky voice. “You were made for lovemaking, Caroline.”

Her heart filled with emotion as she returned in a whisper, “I was made for loving you.”

He stilled completely, his hand, his body, his breathing, and for a second or two she was afraid she might have said something wrong. She opened her eyes to his once more, nearly certain she’d quelled the passion by disclosing such an intimate part of herself, but with one look, she knew she’d only poured oil on the blaze. Her words had touched him deeply; she could see it in his expression as firelight danced upon his face. Then, as if reading her thoughts, he pulled his hand from her, shifted his body, and moved to cover her completely.

Leaning over and adjusting his weight above her, he kissed her breasts almost in reverence, delicately, lightly running the tip of his tongue across each nipple, then slowly moving upward to place little kisses on her neck, her cheek, her lips and lashes.

She relished in the feel of a man, her husband, on top of her and ready to make her his wife. Instinctively she spread her legs even wider to allow him better access, intertwined her fingers through his thick, silky hair, and began to kiss him back just as tenderly as he was kissing her.

He lifted just enough to place his hand between them once more, finding her, stroking her, making her moan from excitement, anticipation, and pleasure. Then, when she was as ready as he, he took her mouth with his, steadied his body, and began to push himself inside of her.

Immediately she tensed from the pressure, and he stopped the movement. His free hand cupped her breast, his thumb stroking her nipple, and after a moment he tried again, only to find the same resistance.