Always - Iris Johansen [47]
She arched upward helplessly as he thrust with a force and passion that sent shudder after shudder through her body. Hot, slick, driving. Her nails dug into his shoulders with unconscious force. His face above her was heavy with the same hunger and a pleasure that was primitive and exciting as the act itself. The muscles of his torso were strained with unbearable tension.
She didn’t know how long that mindless rapture continued. The tension mounted constantly, spiraling, sparking, until she didn’t think she could stand it for one more minute. Her head thrashed back and forth on the satin spread, her hair splaying in wild abandon. She felt abandoned and wild and …
He was moving more forcefully within her. Plunging, rotating, thrusting deeper when she hadn’t thought there was a deeper. A cry escaped from her as the tension broke and then splintered into a thousand sharp, glittering prisms of splendor.
She heard a low, harsh groan above her that sounded as if it had been torn from him, and then she was caught close to Clancy’s big body. Her arms closed around him fiercely, protectively, with a loving possession that she had never known before. She had brought him this wild, mindless pleasure. It had been her body that had assuaged his hunger and then made him tremble with satisfaction. That knowledge was almost as wonderful as the passionate glory that had gone before.
His heart was slowing now, though his chest was still laboring with the force of his breathing.
“Lisa …” His voice was oddly choked. “Lord, I’m sorry.”
Shock jolted through the euphoria she was feeling. “Sorry? Why on earth are you sorry?”
“You know why,” he said with self-disgust as he shifted off her to one side. “I did just what I said I wouldn’t do. Wham, bam, thank you, ma’am. Just as if you were some call girl I’d ordered for a one-night stand.”
Oh, dear, if Clancy didn’t get over these romantic illusions of what she was due as his lady, they were going to have a difficult time of it. She sat up and brushed the hair from her face, then turned to look at him. “Do you know what a truly romantic man does, Clancy? He gives a woman what she wants.” She grinned down at him. “And I assure you, that’s exactly what you did just now. I wanted wham and bam, and a sincerely expressed thank-you wouldn’t be far off the mark, either. I certainly feel fervently grateful to you.” Her voice lowered to a whisper of tenderness. “It was beautiful. Thank you, Clancy Donahue.”
He looked at her searchingly, then pulled her down to kiss her with an exquisite sweetness that caused her throat to tighten with tears. “You’re welcome,” he said gruffly, then fell silent again. “There aren’t any words, you know. What happened was …” He shrugged helplessly and repeated, “There just aren’t any words.”
“Then don’t try to say them.” She cuddled closer, nestling her head in the hollow of his shoulder, her fingers tangling contentedly in the crisp hair on his chest. “You certainly don’t need them. You do extremely well with body language.”
His chuckle reverberated beneath her ear. “I’ll remember which form of communication you prefer.” His lips feathered a kiss on the top of her head. “Nap a little, love, and then we’ll see if we can develop a few new innovations to the state of the art.”
There was the lightest brushing at the crests of her breasts, then a warm, wet teasing and probing, and then a tugging. It was all deliciously gentle and lazy and right. Sleepily Lisa opened her eyes to see Clancy’s dark head nestled at her breasts, and she smiled with contentment.
His head lifted and he smiled, too. “Hi,” he said softly.