Winter Roses Part 18

Ivy knew the mechanics of it, from her romantic novels and blunt articles in women's magazines. But reading about it and doing it were two very different things.

The sensations Stuart drew from her untried body were so powerful that they frightened her. She lost control of herself almost at once. His mouth and his hands coaxed a response out of her that would make her blush afterward. He teased her, encouraged her, praised her as he drew her with him from one peak to an even higher one.

There was one tiny flash of pain, and then nothing except sheer heat and pa.s.sion that built on itself until she was shivering, exploding with pleasure, begging for relief from the tension that pulled her poor body so taut that it felt likely to explode.

And it did, in a maelstrom of excited delight that was beyond rational description. She cried out endlessly as her body arched up to receive his in helpless trembling thrusts.

He found his own relief just as she did, and then collapsed over her. She cradled him in her arms, drunk on ecstasy, blind with satiation.

After a few breathless minutes, he managed to lift his head and look down into her misty, happy eyes.

"Now I know you're disappointed," he said dryly, "that we rushed it like this. But later, I promise, I'll torture you with pa.s.sion and make you scream like a wildcat when I satisfy you."

"Dis...appointed?" she asked, blank-eyed.

He pursed his lips. "You're not disappointed?"

"Good Lord, Stuart!" she exclaimed, barely able to breathe even now. "I thought I was going to die!"

He chuckled. "I must be better than I thought I was," he told her. He bent and kissed her eyelids. "I wanted to go slow, but I just lost it. I've waited so long for you, little one. Years and years. For the past year or so," he added huskily, "I've been as celibate as a man stranded on a desert island. I wasn't able to want anyone but you. So I couldn't draw it out the way I meant to, tonight."

She was delighted with the confession. Her long legs curled around his and her eyes half-closed in satisfaction. If she were a cat, she mused, she'd be purring. "I don't have a single complaint."

"It didn't hurt?" he persisted.

"Only a little. Mostly, I was too busy to notice."

He nibbled her lower lip. "I'm good," he drawled.

She grinned and punched him in the ribs. "Very good. I think. My memory seems to be slipping." She glanced up at him, drawing her fingers through the thick hair on his chest. "Could you do all that again, do you think, so I can make up my mind?"

"Darlin'," he whispered into her parting lips, "I would be delighted...!"

The next day, holding hands and walking along the beach while the waves crashed on the sand beside them, she wondered if anyone had ever been as happy as she was right now.

She leaned her head against his bare shoulder and kissed it. "Did I mention that I loved you?" she asked softly.

"I believe you did," he replied, and pulled her close. He looked down into her wide, radiant eyes. "But I didn't." He traced a path down her soft cheek, and his eyes were solemn. "I could have told you anytime in the past two years that I loved you. I still do. I always will."

It was powerful, hearing the words. She could hardly breathe. "Really?"

"Really." He bent and kissed her eyelids closed. "We've had a nice breakfast and some comfortable exercise. What would you like to do next, Mrs. York?"

She grinned wickedly, tugged his head down and whispered in his ear.

His eyebrows arched. "Do you know, that's exactly what I'd like to do next, too!"

She pulled away, laughed and went running back down the beach. Stuart gave a shout of laughter and ran after her.

Years later, she could still draw a smile from him when she reminded him of that bright, sweet morning on a Jamaican beach, when their lives together were just beginning. It was, she thought, the best morning of her life.

ISBN: 978-1-4268-0828-9.

WINTER ROSES.

First North American Publication 2007.

Copyright (c) 2007 by Diana Palmer.