Stormy Vows - Iris Johansen [40]
This was poor comfort, she thought in confusion, when she wasn't at all sure she would want to say that word when the time came. At the moment she wanted nothing less than he did, and when he broke away to remove the rest of his clothing, she found she didn't even have the modesty to close her eyes. She watched with frank enjoyment as he quickly stripped, then joined her in the bath. How tough and virile he was, she thought dreamily. Those massive shoulders had an almost bull-like strength in comparison to the slim hips and strong muscular legs. “Enjoying yourself?” he asked with a grin. She nodded and smiled shyly.
As he lowered himself into the water beside her, he said, chuckling, “I feel cheated.” He touched the foamy covering with one finger. “You wouldn't care to stand up and take a bow, would you?”
She shook her head with a bright blush, and he sighed. “I didn't think so. Well, as I am to be deprived of one sensual pleasure, I'll just have to make do with the others.” He stretched out beside her, their bodies facing each other but not touching. “Now let me see,” he said thoughtfully. “First, there's scent.”
He took a strand of her hair in one hand, raised it to his nose and sniffed delicately. “You smell of fresh rainwater and the sea.” He rubbed his nose against the satin skin of her temple. “Lavender,” he announced hoarsely. “And woman.” He drew a deep breath and murmured, “You also have a fragrance that's just you, Brenna.” He closed his eyes, and said carefully, “I missed you during these past few weeks. I've been sheer hell to work with, and I didn't even know what was wrong with me. I'd never missed anyone before.” He opened his eyes, and the intensity of his gaze came as a fresh shock. “I'm never going away without you again.”
She knew a moment of panic at the implacable sureness of the statement. Suddenly she felt as if she were caught, caged by the sure determination of this man, who held her transfixed without even touching her.
He must have seen the flash of fear in her eyes because his intensity was instantly masked and he smiled gently. “Where were we?” he said lightly. “Oh, yes, I was about to go on to taste.” His mouth touched hers gently, his tongue probing her mouth in a long dizzying exploration that left her shuddering with desire. “Honey and a dash of spice.” Donovan, too, was shaking, and she could see that the muscles of his body were taut with tension. “Though your voice is music to my ears, I think we'll skip sound,” he said with an effort. “I'd much prefer you silent when we go on to the next and most important step. I've got to touch you, love.”
With a boldness that caused her to flinch away, she felt his hand first cradle her waist beneath the water, then draw her slowly into his arms, branding her soft nude body with his iron-hard frame.
“No,” she whispered weakly, even as she felt herself melt against him, the tips of her nipples hard and sensitive as they were pressed against the rough hair of his chest. The erotic contact was sending burning messages to every nerve in her body, bidding her to respond in the ancient, primitive way of woman.
“Yes,” he groaned, as his mouth took hers in savage hunger. “God! I want you. Let me love you, sweetheart.”
His hands were everywhere. Stroking, probing, pressing the secret silky curves, lifting and cupping her swollen breasts to his eager mouth. She made a sound, part gasp, part moan as he nibbled and sucked at the rosy tips. He raised his head, his eyes dark and glazed. “Do you like that, love? I'll remember.”
He rolled her over with one swift movement,