His lips hovered just above hers, sending a tremor of anticipation through her, “And in theatres…”
She tried to close the distance between them and he pulled back just enough to drive her slightly mad. “And in bedchambers.
“In fact,” he added, his words a caress along the sensitive skin of her lips, “I rather like the rakish side of her.”
And then he settled his lips upon hers, and she was lost. She was consumed by the softness of his mouth, the gentleness of the caress—so very different than the kisses they had shared before. This kiss consumed her, made her forget herself, their surroundings, everything but the magnificent pressure of his lips on hers. His thumb stroked her jaw as his mouth ate at hers, sending waves of pulsing pleasure through her.
She gasped at the feeling, and he took advantage of her open lips to plunder her mouth with deep, drugging kisses that made her dizzy. She reached for him, her anchor in a sea of sensuality, wrapping her arms around his neck and plunging her fingers into his heavy, soft hair. He made a deep, satisfied sound at the feeling of her wrapped around him, and traced a path across her cheek and down the column of her throat with soft, moist kisses that sent explosions of pleasure through her.
The high neck of the fencing jacket she wore hindered his progress, and he deftly unbuttoned it as he made love to the sensitive skin of her neck, following the path of her skin as the widening collar revealed it. When he finished unfastening the jacket, he pulled back from the embrace to open the coat. His heavy-lidded gaze fell to her bound br**sts, rising and falling against the tightly wound linen that had bound them for the afternoon.
He shook his head at the bindings before meeting her gaze once more. “This,” he said, running his hands over the edge of the linen, “is a travesty.”
Registering the need in her eyes, her lips parted in passion, her flushed cheeks, Ralston took her lips in another ravenous kiss before setting his hands to the bindings, seeking the end of the linen. Finding it, he pulled it from its place and began to unwrap the length of fabric.
Callie watched as his eyes followed the movement of his hands, nervous. She registered the roughness of his breathing, the darkened blue of his eyes, and she realized that she was here, in Ralston’s arms. In the arms of the only man she had ever wanted. The only man of whom she had ever dreamed. And now, as he laid her body bare, she knew with an unquestionable certainty that her soul, too, was his. She would never stop wanting him.
As the words floated through her mind, she gasped from the glorious feeling of the last of the bindings falling away, releasing her br**sts from their tight confines. His eyes darkened further, and she looked down at herself, noting the harsh red lines that ran across her normally pale skin. She moved to cover herself, embarrassed by her nakedness. He caught her hands in his.
“No,” he said, his voice thick and seductive. “You have treated these beauties most unkindly. As their rescuer, they now belong to me.”
Callie felt heat flare at his words, pooling deep within her as he released her hands and moved to caress her. His warm, strong hands cupped and molded her abraded flesh, coaxing sighs of pleasure from her as he soothed and gentled her chafed skin. He set his lips to the red marks left by the linen, running his tongue along the oversensitive skin, placing soft, gentle kisses across her br**sts.
He laved the skin for long minutes, deliberately avoiding the straining tips of her br**sts, allowing them to grow tighter and more sensitive with every stroke of his fingers and tongue. Callie began to squirm under his ministrations, straining for his touch on the areas where she was most desperate for it.
He noticed her movement, lifting his head to meet her gaze. “What is it, Empress?” he asked, the words a caress in themselves, his breath breaking across her aching skin. “Do you want me here?” He ran one finger across a straining nipple, and she gave a little cry at the explosion of sensation that came at the feather-light touch. He moved to the other tip, repeating the caress. “Or here?”
“Yes…” The word came on a pant.
He smiled wickedly at the sound. “You have only to ask.”
And then he set his lips to one turgid peak, and she thought she might drown in the pleasure of it. He soothed the sensitive skin with his roughened tongue, clutching his head in both of her hands as he suckled gently, sending a burst of liquid heat to the very core of her. The sensation, so foreign and wonderful, consumed her as he turned his attention to the other breast, repeating his actions, this time more firmly. He scraped his teeth across the peak, then soothed it with tongue and lips, and she cried out, anxious for something that she could not name.
He seemed to sense her need, one hand grazing along the inside her thigh, gently tracing a path to the core of her. He cupped her in one hand, sending a dart of pleasure through her, making her keenly aware of the fabric that blocked his access to that spot where she so desperately wanted his touch. She squirmed, trying to get closer to him, and he lifted his head again, meeting her gaze.
He kissed her soundly, stealing her breath, before saying, “Tell me what you want, my lovely.”
“I—” She stopped, too many words coming at once. I want you to touch me. I want you to love me. I want you to show me the life that I have been missing. She shook her head, uncertain.
He smiled, pressing firmly with his hand against her, watching the wave of pleasure course through her. “Incredible,” he whispered against the side of her neck. “So responsive. Go on…”
“I want—” She sighed as he set his lips to the hardened peak of one breast again. “I want…I want you,” she said, and, in that moment, the words, so utterly simple in the face of the roiling emotions that coursed through her, seemed enough.