The Stanislaskis: Taming Natasha. Нора Робертс

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СКАЧАТЬ she wanted no promises, he intended to keep it. She would have romance, as much as he was capable of giving her.

      Fighting for patience, he undid the range of buttons down her back. Her lips were curved when she pressed them to his chest. Her hands were smooth when she slipped his pants over his hips. As the dress slid to the floor, he brought her close for a long, luxurious kiss.

      She swayed. It seemed foolish to her, but she was dizzy. Colors seemed to dance in her head to some frantic symphony she couldn’t place. Her bracelets jingled when he lifted her hand to press a small circle of kisses upon her wrist. Material rustled, more notes to the song, when he slipped petticoat after colorful petticoat over her hips.

      He hadn’t believed she could be so beautiful. But now, standing before him in only a thin red chemise and the glitter of gold, she was almost more than a man could bear. Her eyes were nearly closed, but her head was up—a habit of pride that suited her well. Moonlight swam around her.

      Slowly she lifted her arms, crossing them in front of her to push the slender straps from her shoulders. The material trembled over her breasts, then clung for a fleeting instant before it slithered to the floor at their feet. Now there was only the glitter of gold against her skin. Exciting, erotic, exotic. She waited, then lifted her arms again—to him.

      “I want you,” she said.

      Flesh met flesh, drawing twin moans from each of them. Mouth met mouth, sending shock waves of pleasure and pain through both. Desire met desire, driving out reason.

      Inevitable. It was the only thought that filtered through the chaos in her mind as her hands raced over him. No force this strong, no need this deep could be anything but inevitable. So she met that force, met that need, with all of her heart.

      Patience was forgotten. She was a hunger in him already too long denied. He wanted all, everything she was, everything she had. Before he could demand, she was giving. When they tumbled onto the bed, his hands were already greedily searching to give and to take pleasure.

      Could he have known it would be so huge, so consuming? Everything about her was vivid and honed sharp. Her taste an intoxicating mix of honey and whiskey, both heated. Her skin as lush as a rose petal drenched in evening dew. Her scent as dark as his own passion. Her need as sharp as a freshly whetted blade.

      She arched against him, offering, challenging, crying out when he sought and found each secret. Pleasure arrowed into him as her small, agile body pressed against his. Strong, willful, she rolled over him to exploit and explore until his breath was a fire in his lungs and his body a mass of sensation. Half-mad, he tumbled with her over the bed and spread a tangle of sheets around them. When he lifted himself over her, he could see the wild curtain of her hair like a dark cloud, the deep, rich glow of her eyes as they clung to his. Her breathing was as hurried as his own, her body as willing.

      Never before, he realized, and never again would he find anyone who matched him so perfectly. Whatever he needed, she needed, whatever he wanted, she wanted. Before he could ask, she was answering. For the first time in his life, he knew what it was to make love with mind and heart and soul as well as body.

      She thought of no one and of nothing but him. When he touched her, it was as though she’d never been touched before. When he said her name, it was the first time she’d heard it. When his mouth sought hers, it was a first kiss, the one she’d been waiting for, wishing for all of her life.

      Palm to palm their hands met, fingers gripping hard like one soul grasping another. They watched each other as he filled her. And there was a promise, felt by both. In a moment of panic she shook her head. Then he was moving in her, and she with him.

      “Again,” was all he said as he pulled her against him.

      “Spence.”

      “Again.” His mouth covered hers, waking her out of a half dream and into fresh passion.

      He wanted her just as much, now that he knew what they could make between them, but with a fire that held steady on slow burn. This time, though desire was still keen, the madness was less intense. He could appreciate the subtle curves, the soft angles, the lazy sighs he could draw out of her with only a touch. It was like making love to some primitive goddess, naked but for the gold draped over her skin. After so long a thirst he quenched himself slowly, leisurely after that first, greedy gulp.

      How had she ever imagined she had known what it was to love a man, or to be loved by one? There were pleasures here that as a woman she knew she had never tasted before. This was what it was to be steeped, to be drowned, to be sated. She ran her hands over him, absorbing the erotic sensations of the flick of his tongue, the scrape of his teeth, the play of those clever fingertips. No, these were new pleasures, very new. And their taste was freedom.

      As the moon soared high into the night, so did she.

      “I thought I had imagined what it would be like to be with you.” Her head resting on his shoulder, Spence trailed his fingers up and down her arm. “I didn’t even come close.”

      “I thought I would never be here with you.” She smiled into the dark. “I was very wrong.”

      “Thank God. Natasha—”

      With a quick shake of her head, she put a finger to his lips. “Don’t say too much. It’s easy to say too much in the moonlight.” And easy to believe it, she added silently.

      Though impatient, he bit back the words he wanted to say. He had made a mistake once before by wanting too much, too quickly. He was determined not to make mistakes with Natasha. “Can I tell you that I’ll never look at gold chains in quite the same way again?”

      With a little chuckle she pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “Yes, you can tell me that.”

      He toyed with her bracelets. “Can I tell you I’m happy?”

      “Yes.”

      “Are you?”

      She tilted her head to look at him. “Yes. Happier than I thought I could be. You make me feel…” She smiled, making a quick movement with her shoulders. “Like magic.”

      “Tonight was magic.”

      “I was afraid,” she murmured. “Of you, of this. Of myself,” she admitted. “It’s been a very long time for me.”

      “It’s been a long time for me, too.” At her restless movement, he caught her chin in his hand. “I haven’t been with anyone since before my wife died.”

      “Did you love her very much? I’m sorry,” she said quickly and closed her eyes tight. “I have no business asking that.”

      “Yes, you do.” He kept his fingers firm. “I loved her once, or I loved the idea of her. That idea was gone long before she died.”

      “Please. Tonight isn’t the time to talk about things that were.”

      When she sat up, he went with her, cupping her forearms in his hands. “Maybe not. But there are things I need to tell you, things we will talk about.”

      “Is what happened before so important?”

      He heard the trace of desperation in her voice and wished he could find the reason. “I think it could be.”

      “This СКАЧАТЬ