Cassandra let her hands fall to the floor above her head, leaving herself spread out beneath him.
“Why did you run away this morning?” he said quietly.
“I didn’t …” she began. But something in his eyes, in the still, taut way he held his body, made her realize she couldn’t hide. Not from him, not from Ian. “It was almost dawn, and I wasn’t sure what to do. What the—the etiquette is in such situations. I didn’t want to be caught sneaking out of your room.”
“Understandable,” Ian said. “But that wasn’t the only reason.”
“No.” Cassandra turned her head to the side so she couldn’t see his eyes watching her so carefully. As if he could see all her secrets there. “Oh, Ian. Last night was so amazing. I never knew it could be like that. I’d dreamed about you for so long, wondered what it would be like. And it was beyond anything I could have dreamed of. But then …”
“Then?”
“I was afraid.”
“Afraid of me?” he said, his voice so appalled. He pushed himself off her and started to turn away, but Cassandra grabbed his hand to hold him with her. “I was too rough. I let my own need overwhelm me.”
“No!” she cried. “You were perfect. I was only afraid of myself, of the way I felt with you. I’ve never felt like that before, so—so wild and free. I was afraid of myself, and afraid of losing you as I did after we kissed in the garden. I couldn’t bear it if you turned away from me again, Ian. I …”
She nearly said “I love you,” but she bit her lip to hold those words back. She let go of him and turned around to cover her eyes with her hands. It was a shocking realization—she did love Ian, more than she had ever loved anyone. Even Charles.
But saying those words would surely drive him away forever.
“Oh, Cassie.” She felt his hands gently touch her shoulders, smoothing a light caress over her arms. He turned her around and drew her close against his chest, his arms tight around her. She buried her face in his shoulder and inhaled deeply of his familiar, delicious scent.
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Cassie, I stayed away after that kiss because I didn’t want to hurt you. I was your husband’s friend; I thought you would be disgusted by my attentions. That if you knew the true depths of my desire you would hate me. I couldn’t bear that.”
“No, no,” she murmured against him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him close. “I thought I disgusted you. That you thought of me only as a friend, and that if you knew the dreams I had been having of you, you would leave me.”
“Cassie, Cassie,” he said, laughing. “What a pair we have been. I’ve needed you for so long.”
He took her face between his hands, his thumbs caressing her cheeks as he raised her eyes to his. She peeked up at him, everything blurry through the sheen of her unshed tears, and she saw that he smiled down at her tenderly.
His lips met hers, softly at first, as if this was their very first kiss. Then he pressed deeper, the tip of his tongue tracing the curve of her lower lip until she moaned. His tongue slipped inside, twining over hers, tasting her deeply. She felt his fingers in her hair, tilting her head so he could kiss her even deeper, more intimately.
He tasted so wonderful, of wine and fruit, and of that dark essence of himself that she had come to crave. She dug her fingers into his shoulders and pressed herself even closer to him. Her breasts pillowed against his hard chest.
He groaned against her lips, and his arms tightened around her to carry her down to the blankets. His kiss turned harder, wilder, and something in her answered his need with a burning passion of her own.
She reached for the hem of his shirt and dragged it up so she could touch his naked, ridged chest, running a caress over it as she felt his muscles tighten against her. She wanted to feel all of him, see him, know him.
His lips slid from hers to kiss her cheek, the pulse that beat in her temple, the curl of her ear. His teeth nipped lightly at her earlobe, brushed over that tiny, sensitive spot just below. He traced a ribbon of open-mouthed kisses along her arched neck and drew away the bodice of her gown to lick the curve of her shoulder, the swell of her soft breast.
“Ian,” she sighed.
As if the sound of his name unleashed something inside of him, he pulled off her dress, snapping the fastenings. Her chemise followed, and she lay beneath him only in her stockings. Feeling that wondrous sense of freedom sweep over her, she stretched her arms above her head and arched her body against his as his stare swept over her like a starving man would look at a feast. She had never felt so very beautiful, so desired.
And she had never wanted anything as much as she wanted him.
He tore his shift off over his head and lowered himself over her, their bodies pressed together. His head bent and his mouth closed hard over her aching nipple, his tongue swirling around its tip, his teeth lightly nibbling. Cassandra gasped and twisted her fingers in his hair to hold him against her.
She wrapped her legs around his hips, her heels pressed to the curve of his buttocks, sheathed in tight woolen breeches. His mouth moved to her other breast, kissing and suckling it until she gasped. Her eyes closed as she felt his hand slide down over her torso, the flare of her hip. His fingertips feathered lightly over her skin, teasing, closer and closer to her womanhood but then sliding away.
She twisted her head back, writhing under his hands, his mouth. “Touch me, Ian!” she cried. “Please, touch me now.”
With a rough laugh, he gave her what she wanted. One finger slid deep inside of her, his thumb brushing against that one most sensitive spot.
“Do you like that, Cassie?” he said tightly, as his mouth moved up over her neck again. “Do you like it when I touch you there?”
“Yes,” she said, and sobbed as he slid two more fingers into her, thrusting them deep. Her legs fell away from him so she could plant her feet on the floor to either side of his hips to hold herself to the earth. She was half-afraid she would soar off into the sky.
“Ian, please,” she moaned. Suddenly, his hands closed hard on her waist and he turned her over. She cried out at the loss of his touch, but then she heard the rustle of fabric as he unfastened his breeches and felt his hands drawing her hips up and back. She spread her legs further apart and almost sobbed as he thrust into her.
Being joined to him felt so very right, so perfect. She braced her hands to the floor and pressed back against him to bring him even closer.
“Cassie,” he said hoarsely. He held her hips and began to move, a fast, hard rhythm punctuated by their harsh breath, the damp sound of skin against skin. His hips slid along her backside as he thrust faster, deeper.
Cassandra closed her eyes and reveled in every movement, every feeling of him against her. That hot pleasure she remembered from last night gathered in a tight knot deep inside her, expanding with every thrust of him against her. She reached out further, further, until at last it burst and she felt like she was being showered with bright sparks of hot, wild joy.
Behind her, Ian shouted out and she felt his body go taut and still against her. He gave one more hard thrust, moaned her name.
Then he collapsed beside her on his back, his forearm flung over his eyes. Cassandra sank down onto the blanket and rolled onto her back, trying to catch her breath. She felt his hand cover hers, their fingers twining as they just lay there together in silence for long, perfect moments.
Ian raised her fingers to his lips and pressed a kiss to them. “Do you still fear I would be disgusted by your desire, Cassie?”
She laughed and curled her hand tighter