Game of Hearts by Kate Donovan

Author:Kate Donovan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
Published: 2011-12-13T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

In what seemed like one giant stride, Suzannah’s bridegroom carried her to the bedroom and deposited her on top of the coverlet. Then before she could decide whether to sit or lie down, he was stripping off his shirt, revealing a bronzed, muscled chest, and arms that rippled with every move. It was a glorious sight, and she might have taken a few moments to enjoy it, but when his fingers moved to the waistband of his trousers, she had no choice but to avert her eyes and scurry under the covers, pink gown and all.

“You’re overdressed, Mrs. Yates,” he teased when he climbed into bed and snuggled up beside her. “Shall I do the honors?”

“I’ll do it,” she assured him, but her nervous fingers couldn’t work the laces, and soon his warm hand covered her own, urging it aside.

As he unfastened the bodice, he began to nuzzle her neck, and the warmth of his breath and lips caused ripples of delight to flood through her from head to toe. Then he whispered, “Shall we kiss for a while first?” and she nodded gratefully, knowing that this, at least, was something familiar she could do that would please him.

As he’d done at the wedding, he began with a gentle tasting of her lips that deepened quickly, until his tongue was thrusting hungrily into her gasping, appreciative mouth. This time, however, his hands were making demands as well, and when he had freed her breasts completely, his fingers went to work on them, teasing and playing until the peaks had hardened with desire. His mouth abandoned hers then, traveling quickly down to tug and taste at her nipples until she thought she might go mad with embarrassed delight.

Then he was kissing her mouth again, and this time her own greedy tongue joined in, while her fingers laced themselves into his hair, pulling his mouth more completely against her own. Never had she imagined herself so alive with need, and she wanted to kiss him forever, but knew his thoughts were concentrating elsewhere now. His hands were feverishly pushing her gown lower and lower on her torso, and she wanted to plead with him to stop—to be content with the kissing and the feel of her nipples against his bare chest—but it was already too late. One hand had forced its way under the fabric and between her legs, and as she wriggled in frantic protest, his fingertips grazed the tender, wet folds she had insanely granted him permission to invade.

“Aengus, no,” she begged. “Not yet.”

He stopped immediately, withdrawing his hand while lifting his head to gaze down at her. She expected to see annoyance, or at least frustration, but there was only desire mingled with apology in his deep blue eyes. “It was going well until then?”

She blushed frantically. “Very well. I just didn’t expect you to touch me there. I mean,” she corrected sheepishly, “with your hand. I knew about the other. But,” she eyed him desperately, “I’m not ready for that yet either.

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