Page 101 of Temptations of a Wallflower
He brushed his lips over hers, gently, sweetly. As if learning her anew. She trembled beneath his touch. It had been so long, and she needed him fiercely.
Gradually, his mouth became more demanding. She opened for him, tongues caressing each other, savoring their midnight tastes. Pressing her body closer to his, she felt the warmth of him, his solidity and strength. This man who had enough will to let her be herself. She felt entirely consumed by him, yet wholly her own woman.
Gripping his hard shoulders tightly, she deepened the kiss, discovering again what they created together. A perfect balance between softness and potency.
His fingers threaded in her hair as he tilted her head back, taking the kiss hotter. Here was what she craved. This man.
“I need you,” she breathed into his mouth. “Now.”
He held her wrist when she moved toward the buttons of his breeches.
“Not here,” he rumbled. “Want to take my time. It’s been too long to hurry, love.”
Threading his fingers with hers, he led her down the stairs, out of the cupola. Quiet as dreams, they moved through the shadow-strewn house, everyone around them asleep. It was as though they were in some magic story, in a bewitched castle where everybody within slept beneath an enchantment, and only they had escaped the spell. Yet they were within their own kind of sorcery as they strode purposefully toward their bedroom.
He closed and locked the door behind them, his gaze always on her, rich with intent. He came forward, enfolding her in his arms. For long moments, they merely held each other. Trembling shook both their bodies.
Slowly, he pulled away. Then he knelt beside the fireplace and built the blaze up. The room filled with warmth and golden, flickering light. He pulled all the blankets off the bed, then spread them with care on the carpet before the fire.
Kneeling on the blankets, he gripped the bottom of his shirt and drew it over his head. He reached a hand out toward her. With the firelight behind him, touching blond curls with a line of brightness and outlining the long lines of his body, he looked mythic, like some golden god offering promises of eternal passion and pleasure. Promises he fully intended to fulfill. But he was a real man—herman. And that made his strength all the more potent.
Sarah kicked off her slippers and tossed her night rail aside. She had no idea what would follow next, but it didn’t matter. All that signified was that they were united now, their hearts aligned. She crossed to him.
Their hands wove together, palm to palm, as she faced him, also kneeling. Her breasts brushed against his chest, and she shivered at the contact.
“Missed you,” he murmured as he nuzzled her neck. “So damned much.”
“I missed us,” she answered, tipping her head back to give him further access to her flesh. “I ached with it.”
“Everything hurts without you.” His mouth made a hot trail along her skin. He nipped at her collarbone, dipped his tongue in the hollow of her throat.
“And now?” she asked breathlessly.
“Now . . .” He bit her shoulder through the thin fabric of her nightgown. She felt claimed in the best possible way. “I can’t think. Only want you. Want to feel you. To taste you.”
His hands gathered up her breasts, stroking them, teasing them to points. He growled in appreciation as she moaned softly with pleasure. She caressed his body, relearning it through touch. This was Jeremy. Her husband. Her companion. Her champion.
“You’re so beautiful,” she breathed.
“For you.” He tugged at the ribbon threading through the neckline of her nightgown. It pulled free, causing the neck to gape. Easing the thin fabric down, he revealed her straining breasts. “Only for you.”
His lips fastened around one hard nipple, drawing on it, licking. Her hands came up to weave through his hair, pressing him closer as he licked and sucked. Shining pleasure built, centered in her breast but radiating out like summer. He brought the same attention to the other nipple, until she writhed with sensation.
“I want you inside me,” she gasped.
“Not yet.” He was carved and hard in the firelight, a creature of sensual demand.
With gentle but commanding hands, he urged her backward, until she lay upon the blankets. Feral but intent, he loomed over her. He swept her nightgown off, throwing it to one side. She forgot about it at once, reveling in being naked before him. Especially the way he looked at her, as though she was everything—the moon, the tides, the sun, the seasons. She wasn’t just Sarah anymore. She was Sarah and the Lady, and all the different parts of herself. Naked, exposed.
He prowled down her body, kissing and caressing her as he went. Her sensitized skin responded at once. There was no part of her that went untouched.
Until he brought his long body down, positioning his head between her legs. Holding her gaze, he spread open her willing thighs. Then brought his mouth down onto her.
She arched up at once, at the first touch of his tongue between her slick folds. Softly, but with purpose, he licked and tasted. He discovered her. He created her. He drove her deliberately toward madness with each stroke and every sweep. His tongue swirled around her bud, and he gently took it between his lips, drawing lightly on the sensitive flesh. She cried out with ecstasy, then once more as he dipped into her entrance with muscular, slick intent.
The pleasure nearly blinded her. Yet she hungered for more.
“I want . . .” She moved down his body, her lips trailing along his torso.
