The Saint (44 page)

He grinned. “You can’t be shy. You just climbed into my bed naked.”

She scowled. “And why can’t I? What if you don’t …” She bit her lip. “What if you don’t like what you see?”

He laughed. He couldn’t help it, he laughed. He placed the candle back down on the bedside table and slid under the covers, taking her in his arms.

She bristled. “I don’t think it’s funny.”

He skimmed his hands over her naked body, caressing every inch of velvety skin until it was warm and pliable. “If you only knew how beautiful you are to me, you’d think it was funny, too.” He shook his head. “Men love seeing women naked. And you …”

He slid his hands down the slim curve of her waist, over her shapely bottom, and up her smooth stomach to cup her breasts in his hands. “Your body is a fantasy.”

He kissed her again, but he could still sense her nervousness. He shook his head in mock disappointment. “I thought you were seducing me.”

“Aye, well I’ve never done this before.”

He frowned, the vague outline of a question forming in his mind. Seduction, that’s what she must mean. She was inexperienced but not innocent. He forced his mind away. He couldn’t let himself think about it.

Put it in the past
.

So he kissed her, kissed her until he couldn’t think about anything other than the sweet taste of her mouth and the incredible sensation of her body moving under his. Skin to skin.

He broke the kiss, rolled onto his knees before her, and slowly inched the sheet from her body.

He kneeled before her, taking in every inch of creamy skin.

Jesus
. His mouth went dry. He’d imagined this—hell, even tried to put together pieces of glimpses he’d caught before—but nothing, nothing prepared him for the vision splayed out before him.

Her breasts were high and round, tipped by small, raspberry-pink nipples. He took one between his fingertips because they were too tempting not to touch. He rolled the hard tip between his fingers, gently caressing her to an even harder peak.

He liked the way her breath started to hitch.

He let his gaze drop to her stomach. To her slim waist and gently curved hips. To the woman’s place between her legs. To the long, shapely legs and high-arched feet.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he rasped, his throat too tight with longing.

His gaze locked on hers, and he could see her relax. See the breath that she’d been holding exhale.

“So are you,” she said, her eyes exploring the wide spans of his chest, his arms, his legs, and then—God, have mercy!—his manhood.

Heat flooded her cheeks and she lifted her gaze back to his, aware that she’d been staring.

“I like it when you look at me, love,” he said huskily.

Her eyes widened a little. “You do?”

He nodded, because he couldn’t speak.

Boldly, her gaze took him in again, and then as he’d done to her, she touched him. Sculpting her hands over the muscles of his shoulders and arms, testing his strength with soft little squeezes. He flexed hard under her fingertips.

“Your arms are as yielding as stone. You’re much more muscular than you were before.”

He laughed. “I should hope so. I’ve four years of battle behind me.”

“What’s this?”

Her fingers trailed over the mark on his arm. The same mark borne by all the members of the Highland Guard. The Lion Rampant, the symbol of Scotland’s kingship, with a torque-like band of a spiderweb around his arm. The spider in the cave that had reminded the king at his lowest point to not give up.

“It’s nothing.” He took her hands from his body, gripping her by the wrist, and slammed them back against the mattress on either side of her head.

She gasped, startled.

He loomed over her, locking his gaze on hers. “Do you want to ask questions, Helen, or do you want me to make love to you?”

He didn’t wait for an answer; the eager glint in her eyes told him everything he needed to know.

Helen gazed up at the man leaning over her. This rough, physical side of him was a surprise. He was always so courteous and gentle, so noble and reserved. But there was nothing noble and reserved about him now. He looked fierce and dangerous, his handsome face cast to wickedness in the shadows.

With her hands pinned on either side of her head, he held her completely at his mercy. She couldn’t move if she wanted to. But she had no intention of going anywhere.

She liked him like this. Physical. Dominating. A little rough. She liked the weight of his body on top of hers, liked to see the way the muscles of his broad chest and big arms rippled and flexed in the candlelight above her, liked to feel his strength.

Instead of threatening, it made her feel safe and protected. She knew he would never hurt her. She bit her lip. At least she hoped. She had to admit being a little nervous
about the first time. He was a big man, and she … she wasn’t quite sure how well they would fit together. But she assured herself that if women could give birth to babies, her body could adjust.

Now was probably not the best time to remember all the screams that accompanied those babies.

Fortunately, Magnus distracted her with far more pleasant thoughts.

He kissed her mouth, her neck, her throat. Dragging his tongue and lips on a shivery trail to her breasts.

Oh yes
. She felt a quiver of anticipation between her legs.

He cupped them in his big hands, rubbing the hard calluses of his thumbs over each tip. The gentle touch sent off flickers of sensation darting through her.

“Your breasts are beautiful.” He tore his gaze away long enough to look into her eyes. “So soft and round.” He demonstrated his point with a gentle squeeze that made her hips press up against his. “Flawless ivory skin topped with two ripe little berries.” His eyes hooded as he gazed on them hungrily. A rush of dampness flooded between her legs. “I can’t wait to taste them.”

Suddenly, she was glad he’d lit the candle. Glad she could see his desire for her. Just looking at him made her feel hot and restless. The air felt so thick and alive, heavy with anticipation.

Instinctively, she arched her back. A soft cry escaped her lips.

He smiled like a fox. “Aye, first I’m going to kiss your breasts.” He lowered his mouth and took one turgid peak between his teeth. The warm, wet suction of his lips lasted only an instant before he released her. One hand trailed down her stomach. “Then I’m going to kiss you right here.” She sucked in her breath when his finger swept over the warm, damp cavern of her womanhood. How could she ever have thought he wasn’t passionate? He was raw passion. Sensual and virile to the bone. “And then, after I
make you come against my mouth, I’m going to slide my cock inside you and make you come again.”

Oh God
. The naughty words made her shudder with anticipation. The wicked promise of his voice sent off wave after wave of heated sensation.

His mouth was on her breast, his tongue sucking and swirling until sharp needles of pleasure shot to her womb. But her mind was already on the next of his promises.

The place between her legs was twitching, dampening, waiting. She couldn’t think about anything else. His mouth
there
.

No. Yes.
Now
.

Magnus could feel her body shake with pleasure. Feel the rush of desire surging through her blood. Those soft, eager little moans were driving him on. And every press of her hips told him exactly where to go.

Her raw sensuality, her trust, both humbled and aroused him.

He slid down her body, kissing a trail from her breasts, over the soft curve of her stomach to her hips, and finally to the baby-soft skin of her inner thigh. Cupping her bottom, he settled himself intimately between her legs and looked up her naked body to catch her gaze.

She was watching him with a wanton mixture of uncertainty and eagerness. As if she thought she should issue some maidenly form of protest but didn’t want to. He was glad when she didn’t. He loved the honesty of her passion. Loved that she liked it just as much as he did. “I’ve dreamed of doing this to you,” he said huskily.

“You have?”

He nodded. “I can’t wait to taste you.”

The last vestiges of her uncertainty faded as he placed a feathery-soft kiss on the silky pink flesh. “Mmm,” he said, with a gentle lap of his tongue. “Sweet as honey.”

The feel of his mouth—his tongue—on her was unlike anything Helen had ever imagined. Heat drenched through
her in a wicked wave of need. She felt so hot. So wet. So wildly sensual.

It was the most erotic moment of her life. Seeing him like this. Having him do
this
to her. Her body began to shake. She moaned. Lifted her hips and silently begged him for more.

He gave it to her. He kissed her harder, deeper, the pressure of his mouth against her, his tongue flicking inside her, the scrape of his jaw against her thighs … It was too much. She writhed with the memory of what was to come. She felt the building pleasure, the tightening sensation, and the delicious coiling low in her belly.

This time she knew what she wanted. She gave over to the sensations and let them take her to the highest peak …

Her body stilled. The quivering between her legs paused for one heart-stopping moment. Then everything broke apart in one hot, long, spasming wave. She cried out her release as pleasure crashed over her.

Magnus couldn’t wait any longer. The sound of her cries sent him over the edge. With one last drag of his mouth, he positioned himself between her legs.

She was still shuddering with pleasure. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted, her cheeks flushed. She was warm and soft and wet—deliciously wet for him.

Mine
. She’d always been his.

God, he loved her. He closed his eyes, threw his head back, and drove inside her in one hard thrust.

Tight! Christ,
tight
. And …

Resistance?

Shock opened his eyes even as she cried out. Not in pleasure this time, but in pain.

What the hell?

As if she sensed what he was about to do, she twined her legs around his and lifted her hips against his, preventing him from pulling back. “Don’t stop,” she whispered. “Please, don’t stop. I’m fine.”

Their eyes held. He didn’t understand. He had so many questions in his mind, but the cravings of his body wouldn’t be denied. He was so close to coming, he couldn’t have stopped if he’d wanted to. Not when he was inside her. Deep inside her. His throbbing cock surrounded by tight wet heat.

He levered his chest over her and thrust. Gently, this time, with a soft circle of his hips.

She gasped, her eyes widening. Aye, it felt good. Very good. Her body clung to him like a fist. A hot, wet fist. Milking him to mindless oblivion.

Sensation fired through his body, threatening to overtake him. His body strained against it, wanting to drag it out. Squeeze every last moment of this that he could.

He pumped again, circling, nudging deeper and deeper with each long stroke.

“You feel so good,” he moaned. She did. It was unlike anything he’d ever felt before. The passion he felt for her wasn’t just from his body but also from his heart. It consumed him. He felt it every time he looked at her. Eyes connected. Bodies connected. One. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too. I’ve always loved you.”

For a moment, as he held her to him and looked into her eyes, he felt true happiness.

The pressure was building at the base of his spine, and he knew he wasn’t going to be able to hold it off much longer. Her words of love echoed in his ears. He clenched his jaw, fighting against the urge to let go. His stomach muscles tightened. His thrusts quickened. But he needed her to come with him.

She started to move against him and he knew he was about to get what what he wanted. She was close.

Love
. He’d said he’d loved her! Helen felt the surge of pleasure rise again inside her as the force of his body slammed into hers. Feeling him inside her, filling her, loving
her—it was possession in its most primitive form. A claim. A connection. Intimacy that she’d never imagined.

And it felt so good. The sharp shock of pain had faded into a distant memory as her body warmed and softened to accommodate him.

With each thrust, he brought her closer to the edge of the precipice. She could feel her pulse quicken. Feel anticipation course through her.

Their eyes locked. He looked so fierce and intense, every muscle in his body drawn tight as he fought for something.

For her, she realized. He was waiting for her.

Their eyes met. She felt the love from the bottom of her heart.

The swell of emotion pushed her over. She loved him so much. And this—what she was feeling—was the culmination of that love. It was the moment she’d been awaiting for so long. She cried out as pleasure engulfed her one more time.

It was all he needed. She could feel the violent roar surge through him. Feel the overwhelming force of his love slam into her. Feel the blast of heat explode inside her as their passion collided in a heavenly torrent.

For a moment she felt transposed. It felt as if she’d touched a piece of heaven. A star. The sun. A place not of this world.

His release wracked through him in slow, strained thrusts. He surged into her with one last push and, as if it had sapped every ounce of his energy, collapsed on top of her.

His heat, his crushing weight, barely had a chance to penetrate before he rolled off her.

Helen was still too flush with pleasure, moved by what had just happened, and exhausted to realize there was something wrong.

But when the heat on her skin prickled from the cool air, when her breathing has slowed, and when the last ebb of
sensation had faded, she became painfully aware of the quiet.

She cast him a surreptitious glance from under her lashes. He was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. His stony expression matched his silence.

A whisper of trepidation skittered across her naked skin with a prickle.

He should be saying something, shouldn’t he? Holding her in his arms and telling her how wonderful it had been. How much he loved her.