Samantha James (18 page)

He spoke from directly behind her. “I bought it in London. I thought it would bring out the green in your eyes.”

Olivia shook her head, still a little dazed. “Dominic, I—I’m truly touched, but I cannot accept such an extravagant gift. It’s far too costly. Besides, where would I wear it?”

His gaze captured hers. “Wear it for me,” he said very quietly.

Imprisoned in the web of sapphire eyes, she felt her mouth go dry. She wanted to, she realized. She wanted to with an intensity never before experienced.

Talking suddenly seemed a forgotten art. “Now?” she whispered.

He nodded. The heat in his eyes seemed to pin her to the spot.

She swallowed. “Do you think you might…turn around?”

His gaze softened. Something flashed between them, a glimmer of understanding. Turning, he strode to the window and there looked out into the night.

Olivia stepped quickly from her drab black gown and slippers. Carefully she eased into the ball gown. It was so fine and fragile she was afraid she might tear it. She slipped her arms into the sleeves before she pulled up the bodice, only to stop in consternation. The bodice was so low she couldn’t wear a thing beneath it! She paused but an instant, then slipped her chemise over her head. Directing a fervent glance heavenward, she prayed that God would forgive her this transgression.

“There,” she said finally. “You may turn around now.”

He turned. For the space of a heartbeat, Olivia held her breath. She wanted to be beautiful. Desirable. To be…oh, everything he had ever wanted in a woman…Yet never had she felt so inadequate!

His eyes made a slow, thorough journey from head to toe—they lingered visibly on the mounds of her breasts, pushed together by the bodice. Her reward came a scant instant later—the sudden blaze in his eyes made her go hot all over. The relief that swept through her made her feel giddy.

Wordlessly he extended his hand. Olivia crossed to him on shaky legs. He pushed her gently toward the mirror in the corner.

“Look,” he urged softly.

Slowly Olivia raised her head. The neckline was low and deep, displaying the slope of her shoulders and long, slender neck. It dipped scandalously low, exposing the top half of her breasts; the rest molded to that rounded fullness like a sleek second skin. Never before had Olivia worn anything so revealing.

For the longest time all she could do was stare at her reflection. It was exactly as she’d said earlier—she felt deliciously forbidden, yet somehow alluring—just the tiniest bit wicked in a most outrageous way.

Dominic came up behind her. He’d removed his jacket and neckcloth, and loosened the buttons of his shirt. Beneath the whiteness of the cloth she could see the darker shadow of the hair on his chest.

“A perfect fit,” he observed. “I had to guess as to your measurements, you know.”

Olivia bit her lip. She turned slightly, first one way and then the other. “You don’t think it’s a trifle small in the bodice?” She glanced where her breasts swelled generously above the neckline.

And so did he.

A slow smile crept across his lips. “I repeat,” he said softly, “a perfect fit.”

Olivia flushed—more from pride than embarrassment, she was stunned to realize. He had poured a glass of wine, she saw, and when he offered it to her, she took it, sipping gratefully, for all at once she was at a loss for words—for what came next.

Dominic took the glass from her. He drank from the very same spot her lips had just deserted, then handed it back to her.

His eyes never left hers.

Olivia gave a shaky laugh. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

He countered with a question of his own. “Am I succeeding?”

She couldn’t tear her gaze from his. “I’m afraid you are,” she whispered helplessly.

The glass was plucked from her fingers and set aside.

Strong, warm hands settled upon her bare shoulders. “Don’t be afraid, Olivia. I want this to be…everything that it wasn’t before.” He paused. “You look beautiful,” he said softly.

Both the words and his regard were quietly intent. Her throat tightened. For the first time in her life, she felt beautiful. If indeed she harbored any doubts, they fled in that moment. She could no more stay the yearning in her heart than she could the raging of the stream.

“So do you.” Her lips formed a tremulous smile.

The merest smile grazed his. “Men aren’t beautiful.”

“You are,” she assured him solemnly. She surprised them both by reaching up to touch the sculpted beauty of his mouth.

His smile stilled. He kissed her fingertips. “Are you sorry it happened?”

Her heart leaped. They both knew what “it” meant. She shook her head and let her fist drop to the plane of his chest; its heat and hardness sent a tiny thrill through her. Courage blossomed. “Are you?” she whispered daringly.

His eyes darkened. “God, no.”

His fingers came up to tangle in her hair. Slowly he pulled her head back. His gaze roamed her face,
then dropped to her lips. Olivia knew then that he was going to kiss her. Never had she wanted anything more. Never had she dreamed she could want something so much…

His mouth met hers, tender and sweetly clinging, his breath blending with her own. At the touch of his lips, emotions that had been swirling just below the surface rushed to the fore. Passion. Desire. Need unchecked. His tongue touched hers, as if in question. She responded to the foray by indulging in an exploration of her own, tasting the ridge of his teeth, the hot, slick interior of his mouth. Her hands came up to clutch the warm skin of his neck. He made a sound low in his throat. She could feel the straining fullness of his manhood against the softness of her belly.

Her boldness seemed to stoke the fires within him. A steely arm clamped around her waist, bringing her so close her breasts were crushed against his chest. The pounding of his heart echoed against her own. His kiss turned sweetly fierce and hungry. His fingers worked the pins in her hair; it tumbled down around her shoulders, a wavy, silken mass.

Before she knew it, the ball gown lay puddled around her ankles and she was naked. Swinging her high in his arms, he laid her on the bed.

Olivia slipped beneath the sheet, still shy before him, for this was still so very new to her. Not so with Dominic. Swiftly he tugged his shirt over his head, leaving his torso bare. Her mouth went dry at the sight of him. The candlelight bathed him in a halo of gold. Darkly magnificent, he reminded her of some pagan god of old. Her fingertips tingled. She was possessed of the urge to run her fin
gers over the knotted hardness of his shoulders and arms, through the dark fur that matted his chest.

His hands were on the buttons of his trousers. She couldn’t look away as he pushed them down his legs. Slowly he straightened.

The night in his study they had been partially undressed. Olivia saw what she had only felt that first time…She stared, her gaze riveted to his obvious arousal, for that which had only been hinted at was there in the flesh, rigid and brazenly erect between the columns of his thighs. She swallowed. No wonder she’d felt that sharp, stabbing pain, she thought hazily.

He bent over her, sweeping aside the sheet and leaving her bare. Modesty fled in the wake of his avid gaze. A tiny little thrill went through her at the possessive heat she glimpsed on his face. Slowly he stretched out beside her. She quivered as a blunted fingertip traced a flaming line from shoulder to hip. The need to touch him was suddenly overwhelming. Giving in to it, she cupped her palms around the taut strength of his shoulders.

It wasn’t enough—not nearly enough. A rash boldness seized her then. She combed her fingers down the wiry pelt on his chest and abdomen, noticing for the first time that a finely crafted gold ring hung from a chain about his neck. She skimmed her fingers across the surface of his chest, even daring to trail her fingertips down across the ridge of his hips, clear to the muscled strength of his thighs.

It was on her upward trek that she chanced to brush the jutting hardness of his shaft. Her heart
lurched. She snatched her hand back as if she’d been burned.

Dominic rested his forehead against hers. “Touch me,” he said thickly. The pitch of his voice was low and rough, vibrating with need.

His eyes sheared straight into hers. Olivia floundered. “I—I don’t know what you mean,” she said faintly.

He showed her. His hand trapped hers, guiding it down to close around his throbbing rod.

“Oh, my,” she said faintly. But she didn’t retreat. Instead she uncurled her fingers. A tentative fingertip trailed slowly from his ultrasensitive crown clear to the root of him, and back along the ridged underside. His hips thrust forward, as if to show her what he wanted. Dainty fingers encircled him anew and suddenly there was no need to guide her further. The clasp of her hand, so small and soft, around that part of him that ached for her swelled still further. He gritted his teeth against a lightning bolt of sheer pleasure that shot through him from head to toe. Locked in exquisite torture, he resisted the urge to pump his hips, determined to allow her to explore on her own. And God above, she did. Her hand mimicked the motion that would take him to heaven and back, a motion not unlike the one which would come later…

Her pulse skittered wildly. His eyes were closed, his head arched back, the tendons in his neck taut. His size and breadth made her quiver—to know that he wanted her so—and she reveled in the shudder that racked his body. He was immense, rigid and thick. He was heat and fire, velvet and steel.

His eyes snapped open. “Dear God,” he breathed,
“stop or I cannot promise this will not end here and now.”

Her hand stilled. A tiny frown appeared between her brows. “What do you mean?”

He nearly groaned. “I mean that I will spill myself—and then I fear you’ll find no pleasure.”

“Oh,” she said in a small voice, then smiled. “I take it you find this…pleasing?”

He gave an odd little laugh, aware that she’d discovered the power a woman might easily wield over a man.

His mouth took hungry possession of hers, hotly devouring, and now it was his turn to tease. He filled his hands with the upthrusting bounty of her breasts, rotating his palms against the jutting peaks, taunting her nipples until they sprang stiff and erect against his palms. Her breathing hastened and he experienced a swell of pure satisfaction. His mouth slid down the slender grace of her throat, until at last he took the deep coral center into his mouth. Her head fell back as he alternated between first one and then the other, his tongue curling and lapping and sucking deeply. With a breathy little sigh she arched shamelessly into the hot wet suction of his mouth.

His knuckles brushed the hollow of her belly. His fingers grazed the silken fleece between her thighs, tracing her furrowed cleft. Olivia bit back a low moan. There was a peculiar ache centered there, a pulse of feeling that seemed to spiral ever higher.

But he was not yet finished.

He slid down her body, further, ever further. She was stunned and confused as she felt his hands slip beneath her thighs, and then he was drawing her
legs over his shoulders, leaving the most secret part of her open and vulnerable. Olivia raised her head from the pillow. She stared down past her breasts—her nipples were the color of rouge, still shiny and wet—only to reel at the sight of his dark head poised between the cradle of her thighs.

Her heart all but stopped beating. “Dominic,” she said faintly. “What…”

She got no further. His head lowered. He kissed the tender flesh of her inner thighs, first one and then the other. With his thumb he stroked the very heart of her desire, a tiny nubbin of flesh hidden deep within damp, dew-bathed flesh. Her breath escaped in a scalding rush. But that was not the end. Indeed, ’twas just the beginning…

The rough velvet of his tongue was a divine ecstasy. With torrid, tormenting strokes of fire he teased her, driving her half-mad. When at last he claimed that swollen, distended kernel of flesh with the wanton glide of his tongue, a jolt of pure flame shot through her and she knew he had found it.

It was there he now worked his magic. Again and again he tasted her, taking her higher…ever higher. Awash in an agony of pleasure, her body seemed not her own. Her hands caught at his bare shoulders, tightening, as if to keep him there. A burning ache kindled inside her. Her body was screaming, screaming for something…she knew not what. Then suddenly she had found it, a piercing rapture that sent her soaring to the heavens and beyond. Dimly she heard a sharp, shivering cry. Belatedly she recognized it as her own.

She floated slowly back to earth. Her eyes opened, dazed and smoky. Dominic was on his
knees between her thighs, his eyes fiercely aglow, his shaft still rigid and thick.

His features were tense and strained, a silent testimony to his iron control. “Take me inside you,” he said tautly. “Take me now…” The words were heated and raw.

Without a word she reached down and guided him home.

This time there was no discomfort. She could feel herself stretching…stretching beneath the pressure of his invasion. Her arms crept around him and clung, wordlessly urging him deep—as deep as he could go, until there was no more of him to give. Imbedded to the hilt in her silken sheath, his chest rose and fell. He kissed her with greedy urgency, then braced himself above her. His arms were corded and bulging. Slowly he began to move, as if he sought to prolong the pleasure.

But there was no help for either of them. Fired by emotions held too long in check, his control shattered. His hips churned a frantic rhythm, driving and seeking. Olivia’s blood seemed to shimmer with molten flame. Caught in the same wild frenzy, her nails dug into the binding tightness of his arms. She couldn’t look away as he thrust inside her, again and again. Deep in the center of her being, a tempest twisted and swirled, rising with every plunge of his rod inside her.

It was no less intense for Dominic. The feel of her satin heat, clinging tight around his turgid flesh, melted him inside and out. And then he felt it…Tiny contractions milked his member, signaling the pinnacle of fulfillment. He caught her whimpers of rapture in his mouth, her spasms of release but spurring his own. His body stiffened. A
ragged cry tore from his throat. His seed erupted, scalding and hot, flooding the gates of her womb.