His hand between her legs stilled in its gentle caress, and he carefully nudged her thighs apart. Desperate for his touch, she followed his lead, shifting her legs to accommodate the long length of his body.
His hand returned to its tender ministrations, his finger slipping between the petals of her womanhood to pet and tease. His mouth drew hard again on her breast, and she gasped in pleasure as the solid, hot length of him pulsed between her legs.
With his own hand, he guided his shaft to the heat at her core, nestling the broad blunt tip of his manhood in the hollow of her body. His fingers dipped inside her, easing his passage.
Despite a moment’s panic, she opened to him, her body expanding to draw him into her, an emptiness growing inside of her so that she would not be complete without him. His magical fingers continued to tantalize her, brushing gently against the inside of her thigh even as his hardness teased in and out of her, whetting the aching hunger he had created.
He moved his head next to hers, and his tongue snaked out to lap at the soft skin just behind her ear. Then, exhaling sharply, he surged forward, burying himself in her, filling her with his power.
Mira was overwhelmed by sensation, pleasure and pain and wonder and fear all tangled together. She squeezed her eyes closed and pressed her head to his sweat-slicked chest.
“Look at me, Mira-mine.” His voice was tight with raw emotion. “Look at me.”
She could not help but do as he bade, pulling back to meet his gaze. Ardor rendered the angles of his face even more starkly, and her effect on him gave Mira a subtle twinge of pride, of power. And when she looked into his eyes, saw the tender heat burning there mingled with the animal passion, her fear melted away. She was left with a warm ache that was strangely pleasurable and a building tension deep in her belly.
He moved above her, meeting her over and over in an elemental rhythm, his body strong and rugged like the Cornish cliffs, her need like the pull of the sea. The feel of his hot flesh pulsing within her, his life moving within her, took her breath away. With every movement the sense of urgency built, and the fire in his eyes burned hotter. She lost herself there, staring in wonder, transformed, reflected not just through his eyes but in them.
Then, like the waves on the shore, the tension broke, and a delicious languor flooded her body. Above her, Nicholas tensed, uttered a short guttural cry, and collapsed atop her.
His breath was ragged with exertion, but he lifted himself up, propped himself on his elbows, so that he could look down into her face. He fixed her with an intense stare, as though he were trying to read some message encrypted in her features.
She smiled shyly, and he seemed to relax a bit. With one hand, he brushed her hair back from her brow, and then he leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss there.
“Thank you for that gift,” he whispered, his breath tickling her ear. “Please do not regret giving it to me.”
Never, she thought. But sleep enveloped her before she could utter the word aloud.
Mira awoke again to find herself pressed against Nicholas’s side, the delicious heat radiating from his skin warming her own. As she slowly came to her senses, his breathing stirred her hair, the rhythmic swell of his chest against her breast like the surf teasing the shore. Every now and again, there was a pause in the tempo, and he uttered a small snore.
She sat up, careful to keep the quilts pulled close around their bodies and not allow a draft to disturb his slumber. Pushing a tangle of hair from her eyes, she studied him as he slept. His arms were thrown wide in abandon, and a web of night-black hair obscured his features. He looked softer asleep, younger, and a strong urge to protect him overcame her. She ached to reach out and touch him, but, at the same time, the intensity of her urge to be close to him was nearly too much, and a perverse desire to flee began to build in the pit of her stomach. Instead of either reaching out or pulling away, Mira sat frozen, watching him sleep.
A noise downstairs, a faint scratching followed by a muffled click, finally drew her attention away. She quietly crept from the bed and tip-toed across the room. As she felt her way down the stairs, the diffused pre-dawn light offering very little guidance, she tried to keep her head low so that she would gain a good view of the first-floor room before any lurker might gain a good view of her.