Page 109 of While You Were Spying

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SHE WAS SUDDENLY GLADshe was lying down. Once again, the sight of him shirtless—the raw, sculpted power of his chest—left her mouth dry and her head spinning.

She brushed her outstretched hand over that power, admiring, not fearing it. The gold flecks in his eyes blazed even hotter as he came down next to her. He braced himself on one elbow and gave her a long, probing look. Francesca’s breath quickened as his hot amber gaze flowed over her. He looked at her so long and so hard that she began to wonder what he saw. Was there something wrong with her?

But just when she would have raised her arms to cover herself, he leaned over her, weight braced on his elbows.

“You’re ravishing.” He met her gaze with his own. “The most ravishing woman I’ve ever seen.”

She didn’t know what she’d expected him to say, but certainly not that. “Ravishing?”

He ran his fingers down her cheek, then replaced his fingertips with his lips.

“God, yes,” she heard him whisper.

His mouth on her caused an immediate reaction, as did the feel of his bare chest, the heat of his skin burning her through the wispy silk of her chemise.

“Is ravishing good?” she managed through shuddering breaths.

He chuckled. “Very good.” It was barely a murmur as his mouth was on her collarbone. He slid the straps of her chemise down, but she hardly noticed, too intent on the mounting pleasure triggered by the feel of his hot breath on her flesh. Then his lips were on her breast, her hard nipple in his mouth, and she moaned.

At first she could hardly believe the sound, so carnal and so wild, had come from her. She wanted to close her eyes in shame.

“You like that,” Ethan said, voice thick with desire. His mouth drifted lower, and his lips were now making a warm wet trail from her abdomen to the curve of her stomach.

“If I have my way, before long you’ll be doing more than moaning.” He flashed her a sinful grin before stripping her of the chemise all together.

She didn’t know what shocked her more—that hewantedher to make such unladylike noises or that she was now completely naked beneath him. He didn’t give her time to consider. She gasped as she felt his hands between her legs, opening her, fingers deftly searching for the place that would bring her the most pleasure.

She cried out when he found it, exhilarated by the small explosions his fingers triggered. She found herself not only crying out, but wantonly arching her hips, shamelessly seeking a repeat of the ecstasy he had shown her could be hers that day in the tack room.

Her body was taut, hands tight around the edges of the blanket beneath her, breath coming in little gasps. Then he stopped. Pulled away from her.

She cried out in frustration, in the haze of her arousal forgetting all sense of propriety. He raised an amused eyebrow and lowered himself over her, kissing her long and deep.

His lips tasted like the perfumed soap she’d used in her bath that afternoon and underneath the smell of lilacs was his own scent—sandalwood and leather and Ethan. Forgetting her frustration from a moment before, she wrapped her arms around him and embraced this new experience—his tongue stroking hers, his body pressed against hers, his legs between hers.

He nudged her legs wider, positioning himself more firmly between her. It was then that she felt him, hot and hard. Somehow, probably while she was insensible with pleasure, he’d managed to remove his trousers, and now she felt his nakedness next to hers. A little fissure of anticipation raced through her.

He must have felt her reaction because he edged forward and placed his hard manhood at her entrance. It was a new sensation, intriguing because, as their scents had mingled, their bodies were now joined in the most intimate of ways. He’d stopped kissing her, and she looked into his face and saw that he was watching her, eyes burning brilliant with desire.

“Do you want me to stop?” His voice was deep and thick, strained by the measure of control she could see he was exerting.

She shook her head. “No.”

“It’s not too late.”

She smiled and stroked his tight jaw. “Yes, it is. It was too late the first time I saw you.” She arched against him, bringing him inside her just a little more. They both gasped at the pleasure.

“Cara.” He closed his eyes. “If you want me to stop, say it now. In a moment I won’t be able to.”

“Good,” she whispered and moved against him again.

With a fierce groan, he buried his head against her shoulder, then, very slowly, began to fill her. Her eyes were closed, head thrown back when his fingers stroked her again, bringing her back to the point of release. The two sensations were so different—his body inside her and his hands on her—that she found herself wondering how many different types of pleasure there were. But then Ethan moved inside her, simultaneously rubbing his fingers against her, and she lost count.

A flash of hot pleasure jolted through her just as Ethan plunged into her. Pain lanced through her, and Ethan paused for a moment and glanced at her with a look she didn’t understand. Then he moved inside her, filling her, pressing intimately against her.

The heady pleasure lingered but could not mask the pain. Her body felt raw and stretched. Strange that he should be inside her; strange for her body to feel both pleasure and pain simultaneously. She looked into his eyes and found his hot gaze on her. He kissed her and pulled her closer, and she closed her eyes and held on.

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