splashing against the ship beneath them, his palm softly caressing her cheek as his body came eagerly alive from nothing but the penetrating heat of her mouth.
Natalie was so thoroughly stunned she could not immediately react. They’d only been teasing each other companionably, like old friends, and without provocation he’d done the unthinkable.
Instinctively, after several seconds of shock at his daring, she tried to pull away. That’s when he grabbed her around the waist and drew her against him, embracing her completely with an arm of solid strength. Her first rational thought was how this wasn’t a kiss like the one in his town house only a few days ago—just a delicate brush of his warm lips. No, this was sweet desire, controlling and intense, the sudden taste of him so powerful she was flooded with the memory of their first intimate encounter five years earlier, of what he’d done to her then, both physically and emotionally. And passionately.
Trembling, Natalie reached up and weakly pushed against his shoulders, wanting desperately to break free because she knew she would soon succumb. And she was right. No longer could she think straight as he held to her tightly, caressing her back with one hand, her cheek with the other, as he played perfect music of beauty against her mouth.
Gradually she leaned into him, gliding her fingertips up along his shirt, relishing in the feel of hot skin beneath cool linen, of the hard, flawless muscle mass against her palms. She squeezed her eyes shut, shoving all from her mind but his powerful embrace, parting her lips a little at his insistence. She was breathing hard, her heart pounding in her breast, blood rushing through her veins, echoing in her ears as she tried to get more of him, as she clutched his neck and ran her fingers through the silky hair at his nape.
Jonathan erupted with a nearly uncontrollable inner fire when he felt her relax and mold herself against him, responding so quickly, so anxiously. He’d really expected her to turn rigid with indignation, even slap him—the standard reaction from someone of her upbringing. But he should have known. Their desire for each other was numbing, indescribable, and had been since the moment they’d first come together on the dance floor years ago.
But it wasn’t the passion that so startled him. It was the realization that he’d never felt this strongly attracted to a female in his life—to her softness, her smile and eyes, her delicate curves, her scent of soap and flowers and woman. And this seemingly innocent kiss on the deck of the Redding , under sprinkled stars and soft moonglow, was the beginning of something he was afraid to acknowledge. He’d hoped that a shared kiss would put an end to his need, but it didn’t, it wouldn’t, and he was in trouble.
He ran the tip of his tongue along her parted lips, the fingers of his right hand gingerly massaging her neck, his left splayed across her lower back, holding her firmly against his rigid body. She moaned softly in his arms, and as impatient as he was to deepen the magic, to touch her more completely, more possessively, somewhere within he became painfully aware that he needed to stop the encounter before it was carried too far. This wasn’t the time or place for this, and she would never end the kiss herself. He knew that now.
With immoderate difficulty, breathing rapidly, attempting to clear his mind from the urgency pervading it, Jonathan did what he’d never done in his life—quelled the passion first.
“Natalie . . . ,” he whispered against her mouth, drawing his hands forward to place both palms on her cheeks.
She didn’t hear him, didn’t respond immediately, and with great reluctance he pulled his lips from hers.
“Natalie,” he repeated in a gravelly rasp, lifting his face away. He placed a kiss or two on her brow before he dropped his forehead to rest against hers, firmly cupping her cheeks, holding her to keep her from running,
Natalie was so thoroughly stunned she could not immediately react. They’d only been teasing each other companionably, like old friends, and without provocation he’d done the unthinkable.
Instinctively, after several seconds of shock at his daring, she tried to pull away. That’s when he grabbed her around the waist and drew her against him, embracing her completely with an arm of solid strength. Her first rational thought was how this wasn’t a kiss like the one in his town house only a few days ago—just a delicate brush of his warm lips. No, this was sweet desire, controlling and intense, the sudden taste of him so powerful she was flooded with the memory of their first intimate encounter five years earlier, of what he’d done to her then, both physically and emotionally. And passionately.
Trembling, Natalie reached up and weakly pushed against his shoulders, wanting desperately to break free because she knew she would soon succumb. And she was right. No longer could she think straight as he held to her tightly, caressing her back with one hand, her cheek with the other, as he played perfect music of beauty against her mouth.
Gradually she leaned into him, gliding her fingertips up along his shirt, relishing in the feel of hot skin beneath cool linen, of the hard, flawless muscle mass against her palms. She squeezed her eyes shut, shoving all from her mind but his powerful embrace, parting her lips a little at his insistence. She was breathing hard, her heart pounding in her breast, blood rushing through her veins, echoing in her ears as she tried to get more of him, as she clutched his neck and ran her fingers through the silky hair at his nape.
Jonathan erupted with a nearly uncontrollable inner fire when he felt her relax and mold herself against him, responding so quickly, so anxiously. He’d really expected her to turn rigid with indignation, even slap him—the standard reaction from someone of her upbringing. But he should have known. Their desire for each other was numbing, indescribable, and had been since the moment they’d first come together on the dance floor years ago.
But it wasn’t the passion that so startled him. It was the realization that he’d never felt this strongly attracted to a female in his life—to her softness, her smile and eyes, her delicate curves, her scent of soap and flowers and woman. And this seemingly innocent kiss on the deck of the Redding , under sprinkled stars and soft moonglow, was the beginning of something he was afraid to acknowledge. He’d hoped that a shared kiss would put an end to his need, but it didn’t, it wouldn’t, and he was in trouble.
He ran the tip of his tongue along her parted lips, the fingers of his right hand gingerly massaging her neck, his left splayed across her lower back, holding her firmly against his rigid body. She moaned softly in his arms, and as impatient as he was to deepen the magic, to touch her more completely, more possessively, somewhere within he became painfully aware that he needed to stop the encounter before it was carried too far. This wasn’t the time or place for this, and she would never end the kiss herself. He knew that now.
With immoderate difficulty, breathing rapidly, attempting to clear his mind from the urgency pervading it, Jonathan did what he’d never done in his life—quelled the passion first.
“Natalie . . . ,” he whispered against her mouth, drawing his hands forward to place both palms on her cheeks.
She didn’t hear him, didn’t respond immediately, and with great reluctance he pulled his lips from hers.
“Natalie,” he repeated in a gravelly rasp, lifting his face away. He placed a kiss or two on her brow before he dropped his forehead to rest against hers, firmly cupping her cheeks, holding her to keep her from running,
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