kiss in the centre of his chest, she felt oddly exposed, wanting his arms to wrap around her, hide her from the passion that was almost overwhelming her. He was so broad that she realised only lower around his waist would her arms meet were she to encircle him. But one hand was still captured by his, and the rapid rise and fall of Matthieu’s chest was the only outward sign that he was not made of stone.
No. This man would never have been made of stone...pure silver, she thought, only just tempered, still seething with heat from the furnace, still malleable, but just as dangerous. A quiver of desire racked her body and only then did Matthieu finally release her hand. She looked up into eyes that were boring down into hers.
‘Stop.’
‘Why?’
‘You don’t know what you’re doing. What you’re asking for,’ he stated, almost angrily.
‘I may be naïve—’
‘Maybe? You are an innocent, Maria. A true innocent.’
‘Does that mean I don’t know what I want?’
‘It means you don’t understand the implications of what you want.’
‘Would anyone?’ she asked.
‘This is something that you should do with someone capable of staying with you.’
No one ever stays, her mind voiced, batting away each and every one of his arguments. She knew, deep down, that this was what she wanted with her entire being. She had never been more sure of anything, half fearful that if he walked away now she would have lost something that she had only dreamed of in the darkest of nights and the deepest of sleeps.
‘I haven’t asked for anything more than this night.’
Matthieu had been wrong. She was a seductress. A temptress. Offering him something he could barely stand to walk away from. She was so beautiful, so pure...the light to his darkness and he would drag her down with him if he gave her what she wanted.
I haven’t asked for anything more than this night.
He had never allowed himself to take anything so pure. His chosen bedfellows were ones who understood. Who knew the game. Pleasure to be given and received and nothing more. Because he had learned long ago that anything more was a foolish dream. And he refused to be the one to teach Maria that lesson.
But he couldn’t help the thought that if he turned away now, if he left her alone, it might break something deep within him.
He shut that thought down as quickly as it had formed in a mental move practised over many years. What he was considering was madness. But then she pressed another kiss to his chest and everything in him was plunged into thick swathes of desire and need, and he felt the growl start at the back of his throat, desperate to stifle it before it escaped into the room.
‘Please?’ she asked between the infernal kisses she was drawing on his body, his skin, the places usually specifically avoided by others.
‘Don’t you see, Maria? You shouldn’t have to beg for this.’
‘I am not begging, I am asking. This is my choice. My request. Stay with me, just for this night. Please.’
And finally Matthieu lost the battle. The battle against being decent, walking away and leaving Maria untouched. Because he could stand it no longer. He wanted to touch her, feel her smooth skin, so pale against his it seemed almost to glow. He wanted to tease pleasure from her so much that it was almost a physical ache within him. Finally he was about to live down to his reputation as a beast in the truest sense, because he felt the last vestige of restraint burn to dust beneath her lips.
This time he was unable to stifle the growl that rose in the back of his throat, as he wrapped his arms around her, drawing her to him and feasting on her lips as he’d wanted to from that very first moment.
This was no practised, gentle first kiss, this was desire, desperation even, as he plunged the depths of her mouth with his tongue, drawing little mewls of pleasure from her. Her hands, now free, swept into his hair, pulling him further down towards her. Not enough, he thought, it was nowhere near enough.
He lifted her up, so that her legs wrapped around his waist, and her lips met his, until finally he nudged her head aside and found the delicate, smooth arc of her neck and pressed open-mouthed kisses against her skin, lathing it with his tongue. Maria’s head fell back, exposing the pale column of her neck and the v of her perfect breasts, accentuated by the silver necklace dipping between them.
He marvelled at how light she was. He could have held her there for an eternity. But her body shifted restlessly in his arms, wanting more, demanding it. She might have not known the words, but her body knew the moves, instinct driving them closer together in their need.
He carried her through to the bedroom, not once breaking the contact between his lips and her skin. As he placed her on the edge of the bed, he cursed. Her pupils so large her eyes were almost completely black, she was drunk on desire.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Never more so,’ she said with a faint smile, faint only because the rest of her features were a mask of pure need and want.
‘I need you to understand that you can stop this at any time. Any time.’
‘You want me to give you a safe word?’
He barked a laugh at the mock coquettishness in her tone. ‘No, I don’t want a bloody safe word.’ The sudden and surprising humour delighting him and, from the look in her eyes, Maria too. As if somehow she’d known they needed a moment, a brief respite from the all-consuming passion that had driven them this far. ‘What do you know of safe words?’ he queried.
‘I may be innocent, but I’m not naïve.’
He dragged in a lungful of air, looking at her in the half light of the moon, cast through the large windows fronting the entire side of the room. Her white lace dress hanging low on her shoulders, exposing collarbones so enticing, he couldn’t resist.
He leaned forward, Maria shifting her legs apart to give him room, and placed kisses there, his lips meeting the hard bone covered in soft skin and sucking gently. He pulled back only to place his forehead against hers.
‘I want you to know that you can say “no”, at any point. I want you to be able to say it.’
‘I don’t want you to stop, Matthieu. I want you to kiss me. To touch me, to—’
He couldn’t take any more of her desires, he was battling enough of his own, so he stifled her words with a kiss. Her lips opened for him, offering him entry and damnation at the same time.
He gently pulled at the thin lace of the dress, exposing the smooth pale planes of her chest, the silver necklace she wore a guide line as he leaned her back against the soft bed and kissed his way towards her breasts. The rosy tips stark against the gleaming white skin. He took one in his mouth, his tongue sweeping over the stiff peak, drawing a moan of pleasure from her body and bringing her closer, pressing into his mouth instinctively.
In one hand he fisted the lacy material of her dress, drawing the material tight against her leg. She was glorious in her pleasure and he reached for her thigh, bringing it up on the bed, and feeling the length of her calf, the smoothness of her thigh, more. He wanted more.
Releasing his hold on the delicate lace he’d bunched around her waist, he pressed kisses against the plane of her skin where her hip dipped naturally, leading him to the flat stretch of her stomach, as he gently pressed her thigh to the side with one hand and drew her white panties down with the other to expose the dark curls between her legs.
He cradled her backside in one hand, gently pulling her body towards his, as he slipped the silky material down her thighs and away from her ankles. He ignored the slight tremor of his