“What’s so damned funny, if I may ask?” he demanded jokingly.
“*Mrs. Webb*. Sometimes it still makes me feel like your mother,” she explained, still laughing a little at the thought.
“Thanks for ruining the moment, *Colonel Mackenzie*,” he laughed, then kissed her again. He rolled them over, so that she lay beneath him, his body covering hers like a blanket of snow covers the ground in winter. His lips left hers to trail a gentle path to her chin and the smooth, ivory column of her neck, where he kissed the pulse beating in the hollow of her throat; its violent leaping told him the depth of her own arousal. For just a moment, he buried his face in the hollow between her shoulder and her neck, savoring the intoxicating fragrance created by a combination of her own natural scent as it mixed with her perfume.
The warm, softly breathing mouth that murmured love words into her ear, the mouth that moved teasingly along the straining muscle on the side of her neck to bury itself in the tender hollow of her shoulder, shook her to the core, and she wrapped her slender legs around him in order to hold him even closer to her.
Raising his head for a moment, he looked down into her dark eyes, studying her face in the shadowy darkness of the room. With a gentle finger, he traced the delicate lines of her face: each eyebrow, her high cheekbones, the bridge of her nose, and her chin. Many men thought that Sarah was a beautiful woman; but, to him, she was the only woman.
It was a huge undertaking, to be given that kind of responsibility for someone’s happiness, to have that sort of power over their emotions. And it was a duty and an honor that she did not take lightly. Sarah understood that Clayton Webb, that most private of men, had made her the guardian of his heart, its caretaker. And she promised herself, and him, that she would strive to be worthy of the honor. That she would always be the one he could depend upon for comfort, for support, for laughter. And, whether physical or emotional, for love.
She smiled softly at him, her hand reaching up to stroke his cheek, a single finger moving softly over his lower lip. Gently, he bit that finger, his hazel eyes holding her dark eyes captive, daring her onward. She laid her cheek against his shoulder, rubbing it softly with her head.
“I *do* love you, Clay,” she murmured
“And I love you.”
Once again he lowered his lips to hers and kissed her deeply. He slipped one hand between the close press of their bodies to release the buttons of her pajama top. Slowly, yet steadily, he loosed each of them from their holes. One by one, they slipped free, gradually exposing more of her body to the bite of the cool, air-conditioned air. Then, as smoothly as the little closures had eased free of their constraints, his hand, warm and slightly rough against her satiny skin, slipped inside to ease that chill. To cup her breast, almost as if weighing it in his palm, his index finger and thumb carefully caressing her already taut nipple.
“Make love to me, Clay,” she whispered, nuzzling her cheek against his, her voice a breathy rendition of its usual husky alto.
He answered her by capturing her ear with his teeth and tugging on it, before finally closing his lips over its lobe and drawing it into his mouth. She gasped, her hips twitching slightly in response to his caresses. Continuing his silence, he tenderly brushed her tousled hair back from her face, away from her ear, so as to give him better access. Carefully, he traced its intricate whorls, his warm breath igniting the moisture left behind by his tongue, setting off a string of tiny little fireworks that seemed to ripple through her body, all the way down to her toes.
She cried out softly as he caressed her breast once more, her throaty sound of surrender a feeble expression of just how amazing it felt to be held so delicately, so beautifully, in his hands. He touched her carefully, exerting just the right amount of pressure on her sensitive nipples. When he turned his attention to her other breast, she moaned low, and the passionate sound sent a shiver through him.
She felt powerless, and yet, at the same time, she had never felt more alive, more utterly invincible, than she did at moments such as these. When all the sometimes confusing, oftentimes frightening, and always overpowering emotions she had for this man were distilled down to their essence. When all that they felt for each other, all of it, every layer, every nuance, was expressed through the movements of their bodies, the way that world-class athletes used their bodies to give expression to their visions of victory.
Sarah smiled at the thought, and, as she did so, she tipped back her head, exposing her slender throat, like a cat begging to be stroked. He obliged her, nuzzling against her pale, soft skin with the bridge of his nose, dragging his lips over the area as well, almost as if he couldn’t bear to lift his mouth from her, couldn’t stand even that small of disruption of touch.
As her teeth closed over her bottom lip to hold back yet another wordless groan at his touch, Sarah felt that she could understand his reluctance to stop touching. But, despite all of her efforts, that sound escaped from her, just the same; a broken, tortured-sounding note that she could hardly identify as having come from her lips, it sounded so foreign to her ears.
Hazel eyes opened, and he looked down into her dark brown eyes. Her hand was still resting lightly against his cheek, and he turned his head just a little, closing his eyes and kissing the palm of her hand, taking his hand and holding hers to his lips. Simply breathing her in. He opened his eyes again to see her, her eyes shut, fully concentrating on the feeling of his lips on her skin. Watching her breathing a little more quickly. Then he took her hand and placed it on his chest, and she opened her eyes and looked up at him. He stroked her hair and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her. Her lips opened beneath his, and she probed his mouth gently with her tongue, reaching up to run her fingers through his dark hair.
He reluctantly turned away from her, his hand reaching for the bedside table drawer. She smiled and closed her eyes as she heard frantic digging. The bed shifted again and she opened her eyes, finding him poised above her, just looking at her.
At last, he lowered his head and his mouth closed over one nipple, his tongue flickering out to gently stroke it. She murmured softly, breathing soft little sighs of contentment that set his pulse racing.
But she wanted to touch him, too, to give him the same kind of pleasure he was giving her, so she began her own exploration of his body, running her fingers over his chest and shoulders, up to caress the back of his neck, and softly down the muscles of his back. With shaking fingers, she ran her hands over his muscular shoulders as he continued to caress her. Her touch was like a wave flirting with a beach. It came and then it fled back, and light though it was, her touch aroused him deeply.
He eventually transferred his attention to her other nipple, while beneath him she sighed contentedly, obviously satisfied with the attention he was paying her body. His mouth tugged hungrily at her flesh, and she whimpered softly. As his teeth gently scraped against the nipple, it sent a thrill of pure desire through her.
Finally relinquishing her breasts, he moved his head slowly downward over the silky flesh of her torso and abdomen. He could feel the delicate pulsing of her blood as it coursed through the veins beneath his cheek as he pressed soft kisses upon the flesh of her stomach. Each place his lips touched pulsed wildly beneath his kisses.
She sighed deeply, enjoying the sensation of his warm tongue and his lips on her body. One of his hands began to smooth itself in small, seductive circles over the sensitive skin of her stomach, moving slowly downward, until it slid across one silken thigh. Murmuring with open pleasure, Sarah felt mesmerized by his touch. His fingers pushed between her closed legs once, twice, remaining the third time to brush lightly against her sensitive flesh. She gasped when her legs moved slightly apart, seemingly of their own accord, encouraging the invasion. Then, just when she thought she could bear it no longer, his fingers began to stroke her with a tender, light touch. Deep within her body, she could feel the quivering begin, although she didn’t know if he could sense it or not.
