Forbidden Susan Johnson (english love story books txt) 📖

first small orgasmic convulsions began deep inside her, he seemed to know precisely, his rhythm matching hers so perfectly, so intensely, she cried aloud, pleasure washing over her in heated waves. As their climax joined in throbbing, peaking splendor, he shut his eyes against the wild delirium. Nothing mattered but galvanic sensation. The world fell away, disappeared, the focus of every nerve and cell selfish, white-hot with explosive feeling.

Daisy understood in the languorous, glowing aftermath before she opened her eyes that her definition of pleasure had been forever altered. There were degrees now, she realized, and a range and scope calibrated light years beyond her previous experience. How exquisite, was her first thought. And how vulnerable those sensations made one, she thought next. But the Duc had bent his head to kiss her gently on the mouth and when her lashes lifted at his touch, she saw only the beauty of his eyes and a moment after when his head lifted, his disarming smile. Her half-formed feelings of defenselessness evaporated under the warmth of his smile, the golden luxurious bliss of satiation drenchingly renewed. He possessed her still, or perhaps at last and finally.

"I'm too old for this," he said lightly, grinning. He'd been fifteen the last time he'd made love in a carriage.

"You're too large for this," Daisy whispered, her own grin replete with contentment.

Maybe that was it, he thought. He'd not quite grown to his present height at fifteen. But more than that, he'd hardly ever since then felt the need to disregard the comforts of a bed. His shoulders were cramped as were his legs, he noticed now that reality had once again intruded. He'd been resting his weight on his elbows, trying at the same time to protect Daisy from the roll of the carriage, and his legs didn't have adequate room. "If you continue to seduce me," he said, his eyes alight with mischief, "I'll have to have a larger carriage designed. I don't know if I can move." His carriage had not been built with lovemaking in mind.

"You at least have the option to move," Daisy pointedly murmured. She was still very much pinned beneath his large body.

An ironic smile lit up his eyes with sunny amusement. "Pardon me, Mademoiselle… for my… regrettable rusticity."

He looked so boyishly charming with his hair in disarray and his green eyes brilliant with jest, Daisy was struck suddenly with a stabbing sense of loss so intense she felt her heart constrict. When she left him, as leave him she must, her world was going to fall into dismal shade. And perhaps because today had already been too passionately charged, or perhaps because she had truly found love for the first time, she found her eyes beginning to brim over with tears.

Too close not to notice, Etienne reacted instantly. "Darling," he said, hushed and bewildered, "what's wrong?" And he moved with a great deal of agility for a man with cramped, numbed legs. A moment later, they were both seated on the crushed velvet seat, his head bent toward hers in concern. "Tell me, sweetheart, and I'll fix it." Unequivocal and determined, he'd see mountains moved for her.

"There's nothing to fix," Daisy whispered, thinking how unfair the gods had been to have placed Etienne in a structured world with a wife and family. "Forgive me. I'm not usually emotional." Her added disclaimer, spoken in a more normal tone, was manifestly true. She was, in fact, never emotional. A disturbing thought, further and disastrously reinforced by tears beginning to spill over and slide down her cheeks.

Lifting Daisy onto his lap in one flashing moment, Etienne straightened the collar of her dress in a small protective gesture that overlooked the disarray of her clothing. Touching her chin gently with his finger, he tipped her face up. "If you don't tell me, I can't help." His voice was the same one he used to soothe Hector.

"I don't know what it is," she lied.

"I don't want to make you unhappy. It's the last thing in the world I want to do."

"I'm not unhappy," she whispered, fresh tears falling.

"You could have fooled me."

Daisy tried to smile.

With pink flushed cheeks, her silky hair tumbled, her lashes wet and spiked, she looked young, childlike. "I can see I'm going to have to change my repertoire," he said, brushing a spill of hair from her brow.

"No." It was the very smallest sound.

"To something less emotional at least." His voice was husky and low, touched with his customary teasing.

"No, don't." Despite her tears, he'd opened the vistas of a promised golden land.

"Will I have to become proficient at kissing away tears then?" Bending lower, he licked a light path up her cheek.

Her smile was less shaken now; she'd had time to compose herself, to reaffirm the distinctions between wishful fantasy and reality. "If you don't mind."

"Kissing you for any reason is distinct delight, Miss Black." Having been adept at giving pleasure to women too long to doubt his abilities, he meant his words to calm Daisy's mood and bring a smile. "Anywhere," he added with a grin.

"You shock me." Her grin matched his now, her sudden rush of vulnerability overcome with her customary, inherent logic.

"I haven't even begun to shock you, darling."

"Is that a promise?" She was self-assured once again, and coquettish. She had today and some weeks more—and with that she'd be content.

"Bona fide," he whispered.

The rest of the journey to Colsec passed in teasing silliness and soft kisses, a lush prelude of anticipation and enchantment. They were both touched by sensations unique to their experience as though they'd entered a private walled estate where joy was suddenly handed over with the key to the gate. And happiness was no longer a tame and inexact word.

He carried her into his cottage when they arrived in her half undress, wearing only riding breeches himself. Padding barefoot up to the door while Guillaume watched with a smile on his face, the Duc answered Daisy's whispered