The Lady of the Storm - 2 (19 page)

An undercurrent of meaning lay in his words. Cecily nodded, as a lady would to her servant, and Giles’s mouth quirked, but the expression in his eyes did not change. He led her through the rather empty common room, up the stairs to her very door, and turned the handle.

For a moment, Cecily’s feet stayed rooted to the floor. Her guise as a prosperous merchant had provided her with lodgings vastly superior than any she had stayed in before. A large bed with feather-stuffed mattress sat in the corner of the room near an ornate gem-studded fireplace. Colorful rugs softened the hardwood floors, chintz drapery flowed across every window, and fresh flowers brightened the carved quartz tables scattered throughout the room.

She stepped inside and turned, unable to meet his gaze. For days now, she had sent him invitations with a glance, the touch of her hand. The last time he’d come to her room, Giles had kissed her and walked away.

This time he would not.

She had wanted him for years and now that the moment was upon her, a small kernel of fear raced through her, a thousand questions plaguing her mind. What if she disappointed him? What if he disappointed her? And what would the future hold for her once she gave her body to him? Their dreams and goals were so very different…

“Cecily.”

She looked up at him. The storm had abated but the clouds still hung over the sun, darkening her room with a dreamy sort of light, casting his cheekbones with soft shadows, turning his green eyes to that velvety dusky shade.

His intent had not changed. He had made his decision. But she would have the final say.

Cecily knew the importance of this moment even more so than Giles realized. She feared they would not survive the journey into that place of wild magic. This might be the last opportunity for them to be together. She held out her hand in invitation. In one graceful movement, he closed and bolted the door behind him and gathered her in his arms.

She sighed into his mouth as his lips covered hers. Oh, she could get used to kissing him. She placed her hands on his shoulders, his coat warmed by his body heat, exploring the breadth of his shoulders. How many times had she wished to touch him without reservation? To feel herself in his arms?

His palm went to her cheek and he gently guided her head to match his own movements, sweeping his lips across hers several times before pressing a bit harder, parting her lips beneath his guidance. His tongue swept into her mouth for but a moment, but a promise. And then she felt her cloak fall from her shoulders, felt his fingers briefly at her buttons before her coat parted and met the same fate.

He did not fumble at the ties of her skirt or petticoat or the laces of her stays. She slipped off her shoes when he picked her up and carried her to the bed, and he sat her down on the edge of it in nothing but her chemise and stockings. She looked up at him as he backed up and shed his own coat, but he stepped forward and kissed her again as if he could not resist the offering of her parted mouth.

When he broke away she shivered and he frowned. “Are you cold?”

She shook her head.

He went on one knee before her and slowly lifted the hem of her chemise, untying the garter around her right stocking before gently rolling it down her leg. He took twice as long at the task than when he’d dressed her by the river, his open palms sweeping across her skin with a brand of heat.

Cecily laid a shaking hand upon his bent head. She had forgotten to dry his hair. The dampness quickly fled beneath her touch, allowing her to stroke her fingers through the thick, fine strands. Although it lacked the silver sparkles that lit an elven lord’s hair, it had a sheen all of its very own, a vibrancy that made it gleam even in the dim room.

Her stocking fell to the floor with a whisper and Giles started rolling the fabric off her other leg. He lowered his head and Cecily gazed in stunned surprise as his mouth followed the movement of his hands, leaving a trail of kisses atop her thigh. His lips felt soft, his breath so warm, a hint of moisture following every touch. She had not even imagined his mouth across other parts of her body, and it lay so close to…

A flush of wetness between her thighs made her squirm.

Giles looked up at her, his eyes glassy with desire, his face taut and soft all at the same time. “You are not afraid.”

All thought had fled, and she could not remember the questions that had unsettled her but a moment ago. Indeed, all of her attention had centered upon his touch. “No.”

He grasped her beneath the knees and pulled her toward him, her chemise lifting up over her thighs and hips, exposing the dark mound of hair between her legs. She glanced down and flushed, but his gaze stayed firmly fixed upon hers.

“You are still not afraid?”

Fie, she had trusted him with her life more than once. She surely trusted him in this.

He nodded. “Lie back.”

Cecily relaxed on the coverlet, her gazed fixed upon the ceiling, wondering why he thought she needed to rest. But he continued to remove her remaining stocking, continued to cover her skin with kisses, and she closed her eyes as she focused on nothing but his touch.

He kept kissing her even after he’d removed her stocking, trailing a fiery path up her calf to her thigh with the heat of his lips. She remembered what she’d witnessed on the beach all those years ago and assumed that would be all there was to it. She had obviously missed the kissing part.

She felt his hands clasp her knees and gently but firmly push them apart, and she did not resist, for which he rewarded her by kissing her inner thighs.

Fiddle, she had apparently missed the
best
part.

And then she felt the wet heat of his tongue, and an urge to buck, which she firmly resisted, considering it a very unladylike impulse. But Giles knew her body better than she, for his hands quickly slid up to her hips, caressing her for a moment before he spread his hands across the length of her, his fingers meeting just over the curl of hair between her legs.

He ran his fingers through it the same way that she’d run her own through the hair atop his head.

After her first start of surprise, she realized it felt delicious, and allowed him to pet her to his heart’s content. His touch slowly dropped even lower, until he stroked the part of her that had become sensitive enough for her to become aware of it. A part of her body that throbbed with a sudden life of its own.

“Ah,” she sighed, and it seemed to be all the invitation Giles needed. His hands spread her thighs even wider, his warm strong grip holding her open, and she flushed at the thought of the view he had of her. But only for a moment, for she felt a wet warmth on that nugget of flesh that had suddenly demanded all of her attention, and a pressure that nearly elevated her off the bed.

Apparently a man could kiss a woman
anywhere
.

But he did more than just kiss her. She felt his tongue stroking, and then a suckling… ah, the man did wicked things with his mouth. Cecily began to pant, grabbed the coverlet beneath her palms and caught it up in her fists, pulling against the cloth as her body strove toward something. Just. Beyond. Her grasp…

She tossed her head. She squirmed. She bucked. What was he doing to her? She wanted to ask him but had no thought for speech, for her entire body and soul concentrated on this sudden new feeling.

A shiver ran through her. Cecily’s body fragmented into a thousand scintillating parts as a rush of indescribable pleasure ripped through her body, making her cry out Giles’s name in wonder and delight. She rode that wave for a long while before her body settled back to earth again.

He left her. It took Cecily a few minutes before she finally had the sense to sit up to see where he had gone.

She blinked.

He stood across the room, having discarded most of his clothing—including his drawers, for he wore nothing but his white cotton shirt, which he had already unbuttoned and was in the process of pulling down his arms. Cecily had seen parts of him, his backside on the beach, his naked torso as he worked the bellows at the forge, flashes of his body while they had journeyed. But the entirety of him standing before her… All that golden naked flesh stunned her.

Cecily had felt the shape of him through his breeches on that day she’d boldly fondled him. But it had not prepared her for the sight of it now.

He let his shirt fall and tossed the hair off his shoulders.

She would not say it. He was too arrogant by half already. She would not… “You are beautiful.”

He grinned and strode to the bed, lifting her wrinkled chemise over her head, and pulled her into his arms.

“If you had any idea,” he murmured, “how delightful you look right now, with your lips swollen from my kisses and your glorious eyes bright with remembered pleasure…” He kissed her, his lips sweeping across hers. “A day hasn’t gone by that I have not been struck by your beauty, Cecily. Not a single day.”

Her heart turned in her chest. She stroked the muscles of his arms, reveled in the feel of his strong shoulders. “What did you do to me?”

He kissed her cheek, traveled a path to her ear, making her shiver when he spoke. “That was but one pleasure. To prepare you for the greater one.”

She raised her brows in disbelief and he laughed, scooping her up in one graceful move and laying her on the bed. His gaze traveled from the tips of her toes to the top of her head, and she realized she lay before him wantonly naked.

She sighed.

He leaned down and caught it with a kiss. His hair tumbled over his shoulders, tickling her throat, her breasts. She curled her hands in the length of it and held on as he ravished her mouth, a slow burn starting inside of her again. She tried to stop him when he pulled away but he did not allow her any control. His mouth moved to the base of her throat, down to her breasts, and she wondered. She hoped.

Ah. He kissed the bud of one nipple, then the other. He stroked them with his tongue until she groaned, and then he suckled.

He had an extraordinarily talented mouth.

Within moments he had her squirming again, but this time she felt a longing for something entirely different. She wanted to be a part of him. For him to make himself a part of her.

“Giles…”

He slid into the bed beside her, the full length of his hot skin touching hers. And it felt so right. As if she’d felt him against her before and would forever more.

He gathered her close, his hands stroking her back, the curve of her bottom. And then he rolled until she lay beneath him, his chest propped above hers, his pale hair hanging wildly about his face, the muscles in his arms and shoulders rippling as he maneuvered his legs between her own.

Cecily watched him. She still remembered the look on his face when she had seen him with that other woman. She wanted to make sure she caused that same exalted expression when he lay with her. No, she wanted to surpass it. She wanted to bring him more pleasure than any other woman ever had before.

Cecily trembled.

“Are you afraid now?” he whispered.

“No.”

“Lift your legs.”

She immediately complied, her thighs rubbing against his hips. Giles shifted. Something soft and hard touched her wet opening.

“Now?”

“No. And no and no—”

He kissed her again, much to her delight. Cecily put her hands against his broad chest, traveling the breadth of it with curiosity. How could a man be so soft and firm all at the same time? His skin felt like satin, the muscles beneath like the hardest stone. Her fingers stroked the thin layer of hair on his upper chest, tickled the path of it down to his abdomen, where his skin pressed against hers. She swept her palms upward again, across the two large muscles and over the small peaks of his brown nipples.

He shuddered and deepened the kiss, his tongue moving in and out of her mouth.

So, Giles’s nipples were sensitive as well. Ah, how she would love to see if her kisses could be as wicked as his. But that would have to wait for another time, for Cecily felt his urgency, his need to claim her. And she wanted it as dearly as he did.

He shifted again. She felt the stretch of her muscles and wondered how she would manage to fit all of him inside of her. But determination made her grasp his bottom… oh, fiddle. More satiny skin, more taut muscle beneath. She explored this new part of him, staring wonderingly up into his eyes.

Giles gritted his teeth.

Cecily pushed him down against her, her strength equal to his when she applied her full elven vigor, which he’d apparently forgotten, judging by the look of surprise that crossed his features. A brief stinging pain accompanied her gesture and she gasped.

Giles frowned and studied her face. “You must let me continue to lead in this.”

She nodded.

He locked his arms and waited until she squirmed a bit. Then he penetrated her more deeply, this time only a slight ache accompanying the gesture. Giles then pulled slowly out of her, and slowly back in again.

This time it didn’t hurt at all. Cecily smiled.

He repeated the movement, but went a bit deeper the second time. And even deeper the third, until she wondered when she would reach the end of him. But his movements became faster and she got caught up in the rhythm, in the sensation that again he stoked some fire as he had earlier. One that would result in another blazing inferno sundering her body.