Once More, With Feeling. Caroline AndersonЧитать онлайн книгу.
had been so tender with her, so nervous himself and yet so thoughtful of her …
‘Isn’t it lovely?’
David glanced round, then back to his bride, her cheeks glowing with health and something else.
‘Absolutely,’ he said huskily, but she knew he wasn’t talking about the cottage and her throat went dry.
Her whole body tingled with anticipation, with the tension that had built between them until now.
But it would end here, tonight, their wedding night.
‘It’s cold,’ he murmured. ‘I’ll light the fire.’
It was reluctant, and she laughed at him and pushed him out of the way, interfering.
In the end, amid much teasing and hilarity, they got it going, and David went out to the car and brought in the luggage and a bottle of champagne.
The fridge, they found, was full of goodies courtesy of Sarah’s parents—the lady who looked after the cottage had been in and cleaned it, made up the beds and stocked up with groceries at their instruction.
‘How kind,’ Emily said to David, and he agreed and turned to her.
‘What about supper?’
‘I’m not really hungry,’ she confessed, her eyes tangling with his.
‘No, nor am I. Shall we sit by the fire and open the champagne?’
They found glasses and settled down on the hearthrug. Although the heating was on it was a cold, cheerless day and darkness had fallen some time before. There, though, in the flickering firelight, the outside world was forgotten.
‘To us,’ he said softly, touching his glass to hers, and, their eyes locked, they entwined their arms and sipped deeply.
She wrinkled her nose. ‘Bubbles,’ she said, a little breathless, and he leaned back against a chair and pulled her between his legs, her back against his chest, one arm resting comfortably across her waist.
Her head was tipped back against his throat, and she could feel the beat of his heart against her shoulders.
‘It was a lovely day, wasn’t it?’ she said softly.
‘I thought it would never end,’ he murmured.
She turned her head a little and stared up at him. The flames were reflected in his eyes, but then he moved his head and she saw a fire in them that was all his own. She swallowed, her heart suddenly pounding, and he took her glass away and set it down with his.
Then he reached for her, a little clumsily, and she turned in his arms to meet his kiss. Their passion caught and blazed, yet he seemed reluctant somehow, as if he was holding back.
She lifted her head and looked at him. ‘What’s wrong?’
He shook his head slightly. I so badly want this to be special for you, but I expect it’s going to be a disaster,’ he confessed, his voice trembling a little. ‘I’ve never done it before, so don’t expect miracles.’
She reached up and cupped his cheek. ‘Nor have I, so don’t worry. I don’t know what to expect—except that it might hurt.’
His eyes clouded. ‘I don’t want to hurt you, Emily.’
‘Well, we can’t wait forever,’ she told him with typical candour. ‘I suppose it will only be the once.’
‘I’ll be as gentle as I can.’
‘I know.’
He reached out his arms again and kissed her once more, slowly, softly, with all his love—or so it seemed, because suddenly Emily found she didn’t care how much it hurt, she just needed to hold him and be held by him, to feel his body on hers, to know him in the oldest sense.
She reached for his shirt buttons, freeing two and sliding her fingers inside against the warm, smooth skin. A light scatter of hair grazed her knuckles, sending shivers down her spine.
‘Cold?’ he asked, but she shook her head.
‘No—no, not cold.’
He moved away a little from her, and stripped off his jacket and tie, then his shirt.
Her heart thudded and crashed against her ribs. He was so—male? She felt liquid heat pooling low down, just where her body ached for him. She couldn’t drag her eyes from him, and as he slid his trousers down the taut, well-muscled thighs she thought she would die of wanting him.
He turned back to her, his scanty briefs doing little to hide his need for her, and she flicked her tongue out and moistened her dry lips.
‘Your turn,’ he said gruffly, and helped her to her feet.
‘You do it,’ she whispered.
‘I don’t know where to start—’
‘Zip at the back,’ she told him, and, turning round, she lifted her hair and bent her head forward.
She felt the slide of the zip, then the warmth of his lips pressed against her spine.
‘You smell wonderful,’ he breathed against her skin, and a shiver ran over her.
Turning in his arms, she slipped the dress down over her shoulders and stepped out of it.
The breath left him as if he’d been punched. He lifted trembling hands and curved them lightly over her barely covered breasts.
‘Emily,’ he whispered raggedly, and she arched into his hands, pressing her aching breasts against his palms. His fingers tightened convulsively as her hands locked behind him and drew them together, then as their hips brushed against each other they both gasped.
‘I need you,’ he said, the words shattering against her cheek.
‘I’m yours,’ she said simply, her shyness forgotten.
He drew her down on the rug and slowly, his hands shaking, he stripped away the scraps of silk and lace that hid her from his eyes.
‘Emily,’ he breathed.
She’d thought she would feel shy, but the awestruck reverence of his expression dispelled her last fears. Slipping her fingers in the waistband of his briefs, she eased them down and abandoned them, turning back to study his now totally naked form.
He took her breath away.
‘Let me touch you,’ he murmured, and she lay down again beside him, her hands reaching for his shoulders, smoothing the hot satin of his skin.
Tremblingly, his hands traced her body, cupping her breasts, gliding over the sleek skin of her flank, his knuckles grazing her inner thighs. Her legs fell open for him, her hips arching up against his hand as he straightened his fingers and laid his palm against the damp nest of curls.
Her own caresses grew braver, her hands sliding down his sides, her fingers curling round him, hot satin over steel.
His breath caught and he dropped his head against her shoulder.
‘Steady,’ he muttered.
She could feel the moisture pooling as he stroked her, feel the tension rising even higher. She didn’t want to be steady. She wanted to be his.
‘Oh, David, now,’ she moaned.
Her breath was choking her, her heart thrashing against her ribs as he moved awkwardly over her.
‘Help me,’ he pleaded, and just as awkwardly she did as he asked, guiding him towards the heavy ache inside her.
‘I love you,’ he said against her mouth, and there was a brief flash of pain and then fullness—fullness that she had never even dreamt of …
‘Are you OK?’ he asked, his voice taut.
‘Oh, yes—oh, David …’