In Bed With...Collection. Emma Darcy
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effect before. Somehow, be-tween yesterday and today, it seemed more shifts had taken place in her life.
Or perhaps it simply represented the kind of home she yearned for, a place of belonging, light after dark, a long, solid reality that lasted, regardless of good times and bad, a core history of humanity that had stayed, survived, prospered, and was now embodied in Nathan who had brought her into it with such protective caring. Safety, comfort, love…
Could he love her?
The question remained almost feverishly in her mind as they returned to the homestead, then parted to wash and change into fresh clothes for dinner. Showering made her intensely conscious of her body, how it had fitted to Nathan’s, how it had felt, and it was difficult to push those memories aside and concentrate on what Nathan would want from her in the long term. Sex was not enough. Yet even sternly telling herself this did nothing to lessen her state of arousal.
The need for him continued to course through her. She put on a soft wraparound dress—a little black dress that was meant to be worn braless—knowing it would make her look accessible, wanting him to know she was accessible to anything he offered her. That was the raw, bottomline truth and she wasn’t going to flinch from it any more or let any fear of consequences get in the way.
When they met in the lounge room for pre-dinner drinks, she could barely stop herself from eating him up with her eyes, the sheer maleness of his magnificent physique hitting her anew. Her pulse was galloping as he handed her a glass but his fingers didn’t touch hers and he took a seat away from her, signalling his intent to control whatever he felt.
Miranda wished she could. Reason finally came to the fore, prompting her to ply him with questions about how the station worked, the various responsibilities of the people he employed, the schedule everyone followed to accomplish what had to be accomplished. The mental challenge of taking in his replies and fitting them all together was stimulating, too.
Not once did the conversation lag over dinner. Miranda was frightened to let it because she knew any silence would fill with sexual tension and he might think this was all there was between them. She was hungry for much, much more. All of him, not just the body that called so strongly to hers.
As it was, her interest in his world acted as an aphrodisiac, because his answers filled out the kind of man he was and to Miranda he was everything a man should be, very hands-on in taking care of every part of his business, treating his people with integrity and respect, aiming for the best that could be done within the parameters of what he worked with.
After dinner he took her to his office, pressed into showing her the map of King’s Eden, pointing out the location of the different breeds of cattle and how they would be mustered over the coming month, giving her a visual picture of the whole operation and a better understanding of the scale of it. To her captivated heart and mind, it was a kingdom, and it could be an Eden…with Nathan.
He was explaining more to her but she lost the thread of what he was saying, her gaze fastening on his pointing hand, running up his tautly muscled arm, over his broad shoulder to the strong brown neck laid bare by the opened collar of his shirt. She didn’t hear his voice trail into silence. Her ears were filled with the drum of her own heart as she saw the pulse at the base of his throat move to the beat of his.
Slowly his chest turned towards her and the hand that had been pointing drew back and curled over her shoulder, pulling her around to face him squarely. Realising she had been caught being inattentive, Miranda lifted pleading eyes to his, a flush of guilt scorching her cheeks as she cried, “I’m not bored. I…”
Her mouth dried up under the searing look of hunger that burned with all the urgent heat of her own. He lifted his other hand and with featherlight fingertips stroked a few wayward strands of hair from her brow, then the soft skin at the corner of her eye, her cheek, her lips, a fine tingling tracery that stirred every nerve-ending into exquisite anticipation and caught the breath in her throat.
But he didn’t kiss her. His eyes didn’t move from hers. Only his hands moved, a sensual caress of her neck, shoulders, softly hooking the supporting straps of her dress with his thumbs and slowly pulling them down her arms, the cross-over pattern of the bodice parting, opening wide, sliding down the slopes of her breasts, caught briefly on peaks that had hardened with tremulous excitement before dropping to her waist, baring her breasts.
Yet still his gaze held hers, the naked hunger simmering into a lustful challenge that demanded her consent to the charged desire driving his fingertips to savour every tactile sensation, the silky texture of her skin, the curve of her spine, swirling patterns of touch all over her back, her arms, arousing erogenous zones she never knew she had, the side swells of her breasts, the hollow below her rib-cage, then upwards, circling her aureoles, outwards and inwards, building a delicate web of sensual intensity that was utterly captivating.
Then his palms, softly rotating nipples that were begging for attention, and a flare of exultant pleasure in his eyes as he saw the sweetly relieving pleasure of it in hers. No rush to passion tonight. The wanting had been mounting all day, and the desire to satisfy every bit of it was a consensual current neither of them could deny now.
She undid the tie at her waist and the soft fabric of her dress slithered to the floor. The stretch lace briefs she wore provided the smallest barrier to complete nakedness yet she felt no self-consciousness about her body. Nathan wasn’t even looking at it. He was touching her mind, wordlessly telling her he had craved feeling her like this, revelling in the full sensation of her femininity, determined on missing nothing, wanting her to feel him wanting all of her.
The need to reach out to him in like manner drove her hands to feel for the lowest button on his shirt. A wild glitter leapt into his eyes, then was forcibly tamed. “Later if you want,” he said gruffly, “but this I must have first.”
Miranda found herself swept off her feet before she could begin to read his intention. In a few breathless seconds he carried her from the office by way of a connecting door to a bedroom she had to assume was his. The bed he laid her on was wide and long, king-size, the head of it piled with thick pillows, the rest of it covered with a softly padded quilt. The only light was from the opened doorway so there was no seeing any detail even if she’d been interested in looking. At this heart-pounding moment anything beyond Nathan was irrelevant.
He removed her briefs and sandals, his hands caressing her legs, her feet, sensitising every area he touched, leaving her flesh humming with excitement. Then he stood back and undressed himself, but not once did his gaze leave her, his clothes being discarded with methodical purpose while he spoke in a low, thrumming voice that wound around her and held her tied to him.
“Countless times have I envisaged this…you lying here on my bed, waiting for me, wanting me, nothing between us but the time it takes to come together. I don’t know why it’s so. It just is. Like a compelling need I cannot put aside.”
“Yes,” she whispered, her throat tightening at the sight of his nakedness emerging, what it meant to her, what it could mean if he shared what she felt. Need…yes…but did it go beyond what he’d known with any other woman?
Please let it be so, she fiercely prayed.
He spoke again, seeming to answer her prayer. “That first evening, when you walked into my life…it was like…this woman was made for me…no sense to it…sheer instinct beating it out. And every time I see you, the same message clamours through me, regardless…”
Regardless of what? she wanted to ask, but he leaned over and claimed her mouth in a long ravishing kiss that splintered any coherent thought. She felt him stretch out beside her, one tautly muscled thigh insert-ing itself between hers, a hand cupping her breast, gently kneading it as his mouth devoured hers with more and more erotic passion.
“Made for me,” he breathed against her lips, a husky claim, reinforced by his hand gliding down over her stomach, fingers weaving through the silky curls at the apex of her thighs, stroking intimately, making her gasp as he aroused an explosion of exquisite yearning.
“Do you know how much I want to make you mine?” he murmured,