The Heiress Bride - Catherine Coulter [128]
“Yes, I’ll give you that,” he said, and deepened his kiss. His fingertips were lightly cupped over her, but not moving, not caressing her, just lying there.
Sinjun wondered what was happening. She remembered that he’d been a wild man before and he’d hurt her. She realized dimly that he was being very careful with her, very restrained. Did he believe her still weak from her illness?
No, he didn’t want to scare her off again. She smiled against his wonderful mouth. She said quite without thought or hesitation, “I love you, Colin. I loved you from the first moment I saw you. I think you’re the most remarkable man in Scotland.”
He jerked at her words. He felt something move deep inside him, something he’d never felt before in his life, something hot and frantic, yet strangely gentle and tender. It scared the hell out of him. At first. Then he eased, allowing the feelings into himself, and her words. Yes, her words. He would think about it later. He kissed her again, tasting the sweetness of her mouth, and kissed her three more times before saying, “Only Scotland?”
“All right, perhaps in all of Britain.”
“Kiss me, Joan.”
Her mouth was red and swollen with his kisses, and yet again she leaned up against him without an instant’s hesitation, and he saw the need in her beautiful eyes, felt the slight trembling of her mouth as his tongue slid between her lips.
When her tongue was warm in his mouth, his fingers suddenly dipped lower. His middle fingers pressed inward, hot as the devil against the light lawn of her nightgown. She thought she’d leap from his lap.
“Let’s get you out of this damned thing,” he said, feeling the soft material dampen beneath his fingers. He brought his fingers to her lips and gently pressed against them. “That’s the taste of you, Joan. It’s very nice, don’t you think?”
She could but stare at him. Slowly, she nodded. He straightened her and pulled the gown over her head. He sat her there on his thighs, the firelight glowing behind her, her breasts in profile to him and her narrow waist and her flat belly. He’d never in his life seen a more beautifully made woman. And she was all his. His hands trembled and he flattened them to his thighs. No, he would hold control. He wouldn’t frighten her, ever again. He would hold to his plan, but it was difficult, damned difficult.
He leaned his head against the chair back. The old leather creaked comfortably under the pressure. “What would you like me to do, Joan?”
“I want you to kiss me some more.”
“Where?”
He heard her breath suck in sharply. “My breasts,” she said, lightly stroking her fingers over his chin. “You’re still clothed, Colin. That isn’t fair.”
“Forget fairness for the moment,” he said, gently clasping her arms and pulling her against him. He wasn’t about to let her see him naked. It would probably make her forget her passion. It would probably scare her out of her mind.
“I think your breasts can wait a bit,” he said, and, still careful not to touch her anywhere that would make her tremble and shudder, he kissed her mouth, and again and then once more, his hands cupping her face, his fingers sliding through her hair, holding her head still for him. When she was squirming against his thighs, very lightly he cupped her left breast in his warm palm.
“Oh!”
“You’re quite nice.” His knuckles were rubbing lightly over her nipple. “Lie back against my arm.”
She did, staring up at him. She watched him lean down even as his arm brought her upward, and when his mouth closed over her, she nearly yelled with the power of it. He smiled, tasting her sweet flesh, quivering himself, but experienced enough to keep it from her. His sex was hard as a stone and he wanted her very much, so much that he considered briefly just carrying her to the bed, and coming into her. Surely she was ready for him now. But no, he was a fool even to consider it for a moment.
He stopped himself and kissed her breast, fondling her with his fingers and his tongue until he knew she was very ready for him. His hand flattened on her belly and he felt