[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
where she'd seen a buffalo. Oh, yes, the explanation tied up some of the
dangling strings all right. It was convincing and logical.
He wasn't buying it for a minute.
Lyon leaned back against the upholstery and smiled. He accepted the fact that
time was needed for Christina to learn to trust him with the truth. He'd
probably know all there was to know about her before she finally got around to
telling him, of course.
Lyon realized the irony. He was determined that Christina would never find out
about his past activities. He meant to keep his sins from her, yet he
persisted, like a hound after a meaty rabbit, in prodding her into telling him
all about herself.
He wasn't, however, the one insisting he was going home. She was. And Lyon
knew full well the mythical convent wasn't her real destination.
She wasn't going anywhere.
"Lyon, you're squeezing the breath right out of me," Christina protested.
He immediately softened his hold.
They arrived at their destination. Lyon carried her up the steps to his
townhouse, through the empty foyer, and up the winding staircase. Christina
barely opened her eyes to look around.
His bedroom had been made ready for them. Several candles burned with soft
light on the bedside tables. The covers had been drawn back on the huge bed. A
fire blazed in the hearth across the room, taking the chill out of the night
air.
Lyon placed her on the bed and stood there smiling at her for the longest
time. "I've sent my staff on ahead to open the country home, Christina. We're
all alone," he explained as he knelt down and reached for her shoes.
"It's our wedding night," Christina said. "I must undress you first. It is the
way it should be done, Lyon."
She flipped her shoes off, then stood beside her husband. After she'd untied
the knot of his cravat, she stood back to help him with his jacket.
When his shirt had been removed and her fingers slipped into the waistband of
his pants, Lyon couldn't stand still any longer. Christina smiled when she
noticed how his stomach muscles reacted to her touch. She would have continued
undressing him, but Lyon wrapped his arms around her waist, pulled her up
against his chest, and claimed her mouth in a hot, sensual kiss.
For long sweet minutes they teased each other with their hands, their tongues,
their whispered words of pleasure.
Lyon had vowed to go slowly this night, to give Christina pleasure first, and
he knew that if he didn't pull away and help her get undressed soon he'd end
up ripping another gown off her.
She was trembling when he dragged his mouth away from hers. Her voice had
deserted her, and she had to nudge him toward the side of the bed. When he sat
down, she pulled off his shoes and socks.
She stood on the platform between Lyon's legs and slowly worked the fastenings
free on her sleeves. It was an awkward task because she couldn't seem to take
her gaze away from Lyon to watch what she was doing.
"You'll have to help me with the back of my gown," she said, smiling because
her voice sounded so strained to her.
When she turned around, Lyon pulled her down onto his lap. She fought the urge
to lean against him, impatient now to get her scratchy gown out of the way.
Her hands reached to her coronet, but she'd only pulled one pin free before
Lyon pushed her hands away and took over the task. "Let me," he said, his
voice husky.
The heavy curls unwound until the rich, sun-kissed locks fell to her waist.
Christina sighed with pleasure. Lyon's fingers were making her shiver. He
slowly lifted the mass to drape it over her shoulder, paused to kiss the back
of her neck, and then began the arduous task of unhooking the tiny fastenings.
His heart was slamming against his chest. The scent of her was so appealing,
so wonderfully feminine. He wanted to bury his face in her golden curls; he
would have given in to his urge if she hadn't moved against his arousal so
impatiently, so enticingly.
Lyon was finally able to get her gown open to her waist. She was wearing a
white chemise, but the silk material easily tore free when he slipped his
hands inside. He found her breasts and cupped their fullness as he pulled her
forcefully back against his chest.
Christina arched against him. His thumbs slid over her nipples, making her
breath catch in her throat. Her skin tingled when she rubbed her back against
the warm pelt of hair on his chest.
"You feel so good, my love," Lyon whispered into her ear. He nuzzled her
earlobe as he tugged on her gown, lifting her away from him only long enough
to push the garment down over her hips.
Christina was too weak to help. Her hips moved against him. Lyon thought her
motions were excruciatingly blissful. He kissed the side of her neck, then her
shoulder. "Your skin is so smooth, so soft," he told her.
Christina tried to speak to him, to tell him how very much he pleased her, but
his hand slid between her thighs, making her forget her own thoughts. His
thumb teased her sensitive nub again and again until the sweet torture
threatened to consume her. She called his name with a ragged moan when his
fingers penetrated her, then tried to push his hand away. Lyon wouldn't cease
his torment, and she was soon lost to the sensations coursing through her,
unable to think much at all. She could only react to the incredible heat. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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where she'd seen a buffalo. Oh, yes, the explanation tied up some of the
dangling strings all right. It was convincing and logical.
He wasn't buying it for a minute.
Lyon leaned back against the upholstery and smiled. He accepted the fact that
time was needed for Christina to learn to trust him with the truth. He'd
probably know all there was to know about her before she finally got around to
telling him, of course.
Lyon realized the irony. He was determined that Christina would never find out
about his past activities. He meant to keep his sins from her, yet he
persisted, like a hound after a meaty rabbit, in prodding her into telling him
all about herself.
He wasn't, however, the one insisting he was going home. She was. And Lyon
knew full well the mythical convent wasn't her real destination.
She wasn't going anywhere.
"Lyon, you're squeezing the breath right out of me," Christina protested.
He immediately softened his hold.
They arrived at their destination. Lyon carried her up the steps to his
townhouse, through the empty foyer, and up the winding staircase. Christina
barely opened her eyes to look around.
His bedroom had been made ready for them. Several candles burned with soft
light on the bedside tables. The covers had been drawn back on the huge bed. A
fire blazed in the hearth across the room, taking the chill out of the night
air.
Lyon placed her on the bed and stood there smiling at her for the longest
time. "I've sent my staff on ahead to open the country home, Christina. We're
all alone," he explained as he knelt down and reached for her shoes.
"It's our wedding night," Christina said. "I must undress you first. It is the
way it should be done, Lyon."
She flipped her shoes off, then stood beside her husband. After she'd untied
the knot of his cravat, she stood back to help him with his jacket.
When his shirt had been removed and her fingers slipped into the waistband of
his pants, Lyon couldn't stand still any longer. Christina smiled when she
noticed how his stomach muscles reacted to her touch. She would have continued
undressing him, but Lyon wrapped his arms around her waist, pulled her up
against his chest, and claimed her mouth in a hot, sensual kiss.
For long sweet minutes they teased each other with their hands, their tongues,
their whispered words of pleasure.
Lyon had vowed to go slowly this night, to give Christina pleasure first, and
he knew that if he didn't pull away and help her get undressed soon he'd end
up ripping another gown off her.
She was trembling when he dragged his mouth away from hers. Her voice had
deserted her, and she had to nudge him toward the side of the bed. When he sat
down, she pulled off his shoes and socks.
She stood on the platform between Lyon's legs and slowly worked the fastenings
free on her sleeves. It was an awkward task because she couldn't seem to take
her gaze away from Lyon to watch what she was doing.
"You'll have to help me with the back of my gown," she said, smiling because
her voice sounded so strained to her.
When she turned around, Lyon pulled her down onto his lap. She fought the urge
to lean against him, impatient now to get her scratchy gown out of the way.
Her hands reached to her coronet, but she'd only pulled one pin free before
Lyon pushed her hands away and took over the task. "Let me," he said, his
voice husky.
The heavy curls unwound until the rich, sun-kissed locks fell to her waist.
Christina sighed with pleasure. Lyon's fingers were making her shiver. He
slowly lifted the mass to drape it over her shoulder, paused to kiss the back
of her neck, and then began the arduous task of unhooking the tiny fastenings.
His heart was slamming against his chest. The scent of her was so appealing,
so wonderfully feminine. He wanted to bury his face in her golden curls; he
would have given in to his urge if she hadn't moved against his arousal so
impatiently, so enticingly.
Lyon was finally able to get her gown open to her waist. She was wearing a
white chemise, but the silk material easily tore free when he slipped his
hands inside. He found her breasts and cupped their fullness as he pulled her
forcefully back against his chest.
Christina arched against him. His thumbs slid over her nipples, making her
breath catch in her throat. Her skin tingled when she rubbed her back against
the warm pelt of hair on his chest.
"You feel so good, my love," Lyon whispered into her ear. He nuzzled her
earlobe as he tugged on her gown, lifting her away from him only long enough
to push the garment down over her hips.
Christina was too weak to help. Her hips moved against him. Lyon thought her
motions were excruciatingly blissful. He kissed the side of her neck, then her
shoulder. "Your skin is so smooth, so soft," he told her.
Christina tried to speak to him, to tell him how very much he pleased her, but
his hand slid between her thighs, making her forget her own thoughts. His
thumb teased her sensitive nub again and again until the sweet torture
threatened to consume her. She called his name with a ragged moan when his
fingers penetrated her, then tried to push his hand away. Lyon wouldn't cease
his torment, and she was soon lost to the sensations coursing through her,
unable to think much at all. She could only react to the incredible heat. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]