Rebel Baron (36 page)

      
“It's just red hair, coarse and dark and not at all pretty like fine-spun golden hair.” She'd always hated the unusual shade, the way it clashed with fashionable colors that blondes could wear. But Brand obviously was fascinated with its heaviness and the odd glints of fire in the highlights. He held it up to the light like a skein and let if fall through his fingers.

      
“It's magic, as changeable as you, dark and fiery, with deeply hidden secrets,” he said as his mouth claimed hers again, while he held her against him with his fists buried in the tangles of her hair. Then he let it cloak her upper body as he began to pull on the drawstring of her chemise, working it down over her milky shoulders, totally baring her breasts.

      
“Lordy, you are a wonder,” he rasped as he cupped a breast in each hand. They stood up, full and erect as any girl's half her age.

      
Feeling the chemise slipping down below her navel with only the curve of her hips to cover her most private place, she whispered, “Please...the lights.”

      
“The light's just fine. You don't savor a vision of beauty in the dark,” he replied as his hands encircled her slender waist. He cupped her buttocks, raising her up so he could bend his head to feast on her breasts once again.

      
The suckling heat of his mouth made all modesty flee as the burning ache turned into a keen, tingling pleasure. She arched against him, pressing her hands against his chest and pulling off his cravat, then tugging at the studs in his shirtfront until they began to pop free. He shrugged off his jacket and tossed it carelessly onto the floor, then resumed kneading her bottom and feasting on her breasts.

      
Now Miranda was eager, desperate to feel his bare flesh, answering some primal instinct—was it one of those deeply hidden secrets he spoke of? She only knew that she had to touch him, feel the heat of him. She whimpered as his rapacious mouth moved between her breasts, taking one, then the other and circling the areola with his tongue, flicking the hard, nubby tip of a nipple before drawing it into his mouth.

      
She was lost in passion. He realized this was all completely new to her. He must go slow. Ah, but that would be hard...hard as the throbbing member between his legs clamoring to delve into her warm, sweet flesh and find surcease. He could not allow that until she was ready. And she was ready, at least to be placed on the bed so he could finish undressing.

      
Brand reached over and yanked the coverlet down, then let his hands slide over her hips until her chemise slid off. Shushing her small gasp of embarrassment, he knelt before her and began to peel down the garter from one long, elegant leg, kissing his way from her thigh to her ankle.

      
The room spun crazily, and Miranda could do nothing but collapse back onto the edge of the mattress behind her as Brand tossed away one stocking and set to work on the other. He even kissed her toes! Who could ever have imagined that having one's foot caressed and kissed could be so erotic? Before she realized what he was doing, he had positioned her up against a pillow and was sitting beside her on the bed.

      
She could feel his hot tiger's eyes raking up and down her body, following the path of his hands as they traced the curves and valleys of her flesh. She was a mature woman, had borne a child, was too tall and angular...all the doubts and insecurities of her life flooded suddenly back into her consciousness. “Brandon, I—”

      
Knowing what she was trying to say, he murmured, “Don't say anything. You're perfect.” His hand skimmed across her flat, silky belly.

      
“I have stretch marks.” The instant she said it, she blushed beet red. No lady ever mentioned such a thing!

      
He chuckled softly, bending to dip his tongue into her navel. “If you do, they're fine enough to be invisible.” Planting another kiss on her belly, he trailed his lips up to her breasts while his hand slowly glided down to her mound. He could feel her stiffen ever so slightly when he touched her most secret place. Deep red curls guarded it as his fingers carefully worked their way toward where her hot, slick honey waited to be tasted...later. That would shock her innocent sensibilities too much for the first time. Gritting his teeth, he pulled back from that invasion, forcing himself to allow her to set a slower pace of discovery.

      
Miranda ran her hands over his shoulders, shoving his shirt down so she could touch his skin. The sinuous ripple of lean muscles over his shoulders and arms fed her craving. She grew bolder when he leaned back to shrug off the shirt, then bent down to resume caressing her. The abrasion of his chest hair teased her already sensitive breasts. She reached between their bodies and buried her fingers in the golden fur, tracing the pattern of it as it narrowed down to a thin arrow vanishing below his belt buckle.

      
His heart pounded as she pressed her palms flat against the muscles of his chest. Did hers beat out the same frantic cadence? Most certainly so, if her breathlessness was any indicator. She ached with wanting, writhing beneath his hands and mouth. Her hair tangled around her shoulders and spilled across the pillows. She could feel it against her bare back. The realization dawned: She was completely naked, lying spread across her bed in a lighted room.

      
“Brandon, the lights,” she managed to get out between little whimpers of pleasure as he kissed and petted her body, making it sing with a longing she could never have imagined.

      
He raised himself up over her now, looking down on her flushed face, the luscious pink spreading lower to heat her breasts and belly. “If I turned off the lights, I couldn't see how beautiful you are,” he whispered tenderly, then added as he stood up, “and you couldn't see my body.”

      
He knew positively that Auburn had never entered her chambers with the lights on. The old fool probably wore a nightshirt. “Aren't you just the least bit curious, Miranda, love?” he cajoled.

      
His hands were poised at his belt buckle, and the breath whooshed from her lungs. She should be shocked, appalled, outraged...but every fiber of her being cried out,
Yes, yes, I am!
Was she brave enough to admit it aloud? Cowardice bred into her by generations of repression made her answer only with her eyes.

      
Hungry eyes, glowing with silver fire in the dim light.

      
Ever so slowly, his hands, those beautiful, tanned and callused hands, began to unfasten the belt. Her eyes darted down to the bulge at his crotch. She knew what that meant, but she wanted to see even that! What a depraved creature passion and her major had made her. She could hear his soft chuckle as he noted her trespass, but all he said was, “Shoes first.”

      
Miranda watched as he sat on the small dressing stool in front of her vanity and slipped off his shoes and hose. How large and masculine and utterly out of place he appeared on that flimsy little chair. Yet at the same time, he moved with such elegance that it did not matter. When he stood and stepped back to the edge of the bed, she could not help moistening her lips with the tip of her tongue in nervous anticipation of what came next.

      
Brand could feel her eyes on him and smiled at her as he began to unfasten the buttons of his fly. He ached so much, he feared he'd spill his seed before he could rid himself of the damned tight britches! Her eyes were round with wonder and as hot as molten silver, adding to his misery...and his pleasure. Odd, how the two seemed to go together in making love.

      
When he completed his task, he took a deep breath, trying desperately to calm himself, then slowly eased down his pants and underwear, freeing his engorged staff. The cool air did nothing to dampen the burning pulse of it. He watched her watch him and was pleased. She did not shrink away, although he knew she had to be frightened by the newness of this.

      
Although she'd never seen her husband’s member, she knew it had not been this large—could not have been. Brand's staff jutted from the dark gold thicket at his groin as if possessing a life of its own. She should have been terrified, but instead she was mesmerized. Mesmerized by the sheer male beauty of him, long-legged and broad-shouldered with cunning patterns of light gold hair glistening on his forearms, and that heavier pelt on his chest. Now she could trace the course of it to its ultimate destination.

      
Without giving her time for modesty—or second thoughts—he placed one knee on the bed and took her hands in his, pulling her up to kneel with him in the center of the bed. Burying his fingers in her hair, he cradled her head and kissed her deeply, pressing the lengths of their bodies together without the barrier of clothing, allowing her time to get used to the sensations before he pressed her into the mattress and covered her.

      
Miranda could feel his heat encircle her, and her bones seemed to melt. His body was hard and sinuous while hers was soft and pliant. She loved the raspy scratch of his beard as he pressed kisses to the madly beating pulse at the base of her throat and moved lower to her breasts once more. Her fingers burrowed through the hair on his chest, glorying in the pounding of his heart. When he raised his head and kissed her again, she opened to him, allowing her tongue to glide out to meet his, boldly making forays into his mouth, twining with his as she ran her hands up and down his back, even daring to dig her nails into his steely hard buttocks.

      
Then she felt his hand move between their bodies and cup her mound, but she was too awash with excitement to stiffen or pull away. The moment his fingers found the wetness drenching her woman's place, a bolt of raw pleasure lanced through her and she arched against him, whimpering and wriggling her hips. He explored briefly and elicited more little cries of ecstasy from her, which she was unaware of making.

      
Brand knew she was ready. And he was desperate. Gritting his teeth to keep going slowly, he lowered her to the mattress and propped his weight on his elbows as he continued kissing her. With one knee he gently parted her thighs, then poised himself to enter her. “Miranda, love,” he murmured as his aching staff nuzzled against the portals of paradise. She was so slick and ready that the head pressed in with ease, but when he tried to go deeper, he found her incredibly tight.

      
It's been over a dozen years since she 's received a man,
he reminded himself as he stopped, waiting impatiently for her body to adjust to the invasion.

      
Her earlier worries about how they would fit returned, but were quickly pushed aside as the delicious pressure of his flesh inside her made her ache for more. With a longing denied for a lifetime, her body arched to pull him deeper, deeper...until at last he was fully seated, stretching her and filling her. She bit her lip and felt the tears sting her eyes again, but this time they were tears of joy and wonder, not sadness and loss.

      
To be joined this way—utterly, with no impediment of clothing or darkness between them—this was the way nature had surely meant the union of man and woman to be. Then he began to move, ever so slowly, gently, his hips rocking against hers as he stroked. Her nails dug into his back, urging him on. When he rasped out a command that she wrap her legs around his body, she complied and he plunged even deeper.

      
Sweat beaded his forehead as he tried to hold back the pace, but when he felt her silky thighs tighten around his waist and her hips arch in response, he was lost. He rode her hard and deep, waiting desperately for the signs that she was ready to join him. Brand was certain she had never come to completion before. He would not rob her of that.

      
She was drowning in the pleasure, greedy, needy, wonder-filled beyond her wildest dreams. The sweetness . of it overwhelmed her, yet left her hungry for something elusive. She hovered on the brink of some sort of discovery she could not imagine. She craved it. But she never wanted this to end. Still, she was unable to stop her body's demands as it arched and writhed wildly against his.

      
Then it swept over her, swamping her senses with such intense, pulsing pleasure that she cried out his name and clawed at his back like a wild thing. Just when she was certain she'd die right then and there if the ecstasy did not abate—surely it could not go on—his whole body stiffened and his staff swelled even more deeply inside her. Another drenching wave of ecstasy crested in her with his release.

      
She held fast to him as he murmured her name and collapsed on top of her. Their bodies were slick with perspiration as they lay in the coolness of the night, panting together, sated. Gradually their breathing returned to normal, and he started to roll away, but she held him fast.

      
“I'm crushing you,” he said.

      
“No, I don't mind,” she replied softly. What she really meant was that she never wanted this to end...even though she knew it must. But she would not think of that now. Now she only wanted to feel the solid warmth of his body joined with hers, to revel in the newness of an experience she'd never had before.

      
And could never have again.