Then he picked her up and placed her on the bed. He unfastened his pants and slid them off.
Hannah couldn’t help but be drawn to the front of his boxers. To the impressive-looking ridge underneath. She was no expert, but he looked…generous.
He settled beside her, propped up on his elbow, smiling down at her. A sleepy, sexy grin. “Here we are.”
“Here we are,” she agreed. Finally. She had been beginning to feel as if this day would never come.
He brushed her breast with his lips. Once, then twice, then he took her in his mouth, silk and all, and the sensation was so shockingly intense that she gasped and arched her back.
She couldn’t help wondering what other places he could use his mouth.
He hooked his index finger around one strap of her gown and eased it down her arm until her entire breast was exposed. And when he took her in his mouth this time, there was no fabric barrier. This time she felt everything. His tongue, his teeth. The wet heat.
A sound came out of her, like a moan, but more desperate, and she realized her fingers were tunneling through his hair. She was arching against his mouth, urging him to take more.
Phillip seemed to be fascinated by her. He kissed her breasts, her mouth, touched her in ways that made her shudder and quake. And her own hands seemed to have taken on a life of their own, exploring the secrets of his body, touching him like she had only imagined in her most intimate fantasies.
It wasn’t long before the gown that was meant to arouse him was only getting in the way.
“This has to go,” he ordered, helping her tug it up over her head, until the only thing left was a pair of scant thong panties made of the same fragile lace. Then he just looked at her, his eyes dark with arousal. “You’re beautiful.”
She felt beautiful, and not the least bit afraid. In fact, she couldn’t imagine why she had been so nervous. This was so absolutely and completely right. She had never felt so close to him. To anyone.
He touched the minuscule triangle of lace between her thighs and it felt so amazing she nearly vaulted off the bed.
He eased her thong down her legs so slowly that she got impatient and kicked it the rest of the way off. Then she did something that surprised them both. She reached for the waistband of his boxers and tugged at them. She wanted them both to be naked.
He captured her mouth with his and kissed the last of her sense completely away. She didn’t think she could be any more aroused, but somehow Phillip managed. Kissing her, touching her, until she could hardly stand it.
What felt like hours later, he eased himself over her, between her thighs. “I’ll take it slow.”
But she didn’t want slow. She wanted to feel all of him now. She reached for his hips and pushed them hard against her.
She shuddered a moment, and then the pain was gone. What she felt instead was indescribable. She felt…complete. The ultimate in closeness.
He thrust into her, slowly at first, then faster.
She wound her legs around his, dug her nails into his shoulders. “Phillip,” she begged, even though she had no idea what she was begging for.
He thrust himself inside her again, harder this time, and she was so stunned by the sensation she cried out.
He eased back and thrust again. Phillip could feel her inner walls flex and contract around him. Her eyes looked bleary and unfocused and her skin was blushed and hot.
He had never seen anything more arousing or sexy. Had never been with a woman so easy to please. And though it was taking every bit of concentration he could muster to maintain control, he didn’t want to rush this.
But he could feel her losing it, feel her body clenching down on him. Then she tensed and bucked up against him. Her eyes went wide and sightless, with shock and pleasure and wonder. That was all it took. He lost it. His body coiled then released, letting go in a hot rush that seemed to wring the last trace of energy from his very cells. And for a minute, he couldn’t find the strength to do more than breathe.
* * *
Hannah was gazing up at him, looking just as physically spent as he felt. Her cheeks and chest were deep red and her breath was coming in short, sharp bursts.
“Are you okay?”
She nodded, but when he shifted his weight, she grimaced.
“Hurt?”
“A little,” she admitted.
He eased off her slowly, then he rolled onto his back and pulled her along with him. She curled up against his side in the crook of his arm, soft and warm and boneless, her head resting on his shoulder. The covers had somehow wound up in a bunch at their feet, but it didn’t matter. He was so relaxed he felt as if he were melting into the mattress.
Oddly, it was perfect.
Getting married, saying the vows, hadn’t been the disconcerting experience he had expected. When Sophie came to him the night before to say that Hannah was upset, the idea of her changing her mind, of her backing out and moving back to America, made him realize just how fond of her he’d become.
He just hoped that would be enough.
They were quiet for several minutes while their breathing evened out and pulses returned to normal.
“Is it always like that?” she asked.
“Like what?”
“It just felt so…so…good. I thought that wasn’t supposed to happen. Not my first time.”
He shrugged. “I guess you’re a natural.”
That made her smile. “Do we have to wait long?”
“For what?”
“To do it again?”
Already? “I thought you were sore.”
“Not anymore.” She put her hand on his stomach, a little shyly, but insatiably curious, and that was all it took for him.
He rolled her onto her back and smiled down at her. “Who says we have to wait?”
It was her innocence and her honesty, her complete trust, that was such a turn-on. But what did that mean for their future?
She would only be innocent for so long. Then what?
Eventually the novelty was going to wear off. It would become a duty instead of a pleasure, until the day came when they didn’t bother at all.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss, and he decided not to worry about that now.
He would just enjoy it while it lasted.
Eleven
They left early the next morning for the private yacht off the coast of Monaco where they would be spending their honeymoon. In a way Phillip was dreading it. Two weeks, stuck in close quarters with the same woman. It was bound to get monotonous.
He spent most of the flight devising excuses to get them back to the palace early, and trying to determine how soon he could suggest going back without upsetting her too much. At least a week, he decided. By then he should be crawling out of his skin.
The first day, all they managed, on so little sleep, was to lie around and sun themselves, occasionally dipping in the water to cool off. They snacked on caviar and sipped champagne. And every so often Hannah would get this look, and next thing he knew, they would be tumbling into bed.
The second day was much of the same, and because it was rare that he allowed himself the privilege of just laying around and doing nothing, he let himself enjoy it.
Monday,