Read Online Nightingale by Cathy Maxwell - Free Book Online

waist; her breasts pressed against his chest. Their lips never parted as he walked to the bed.
    His one coherent thought as he placed her on the rumpled bedspread was this time, he’d be more cautious. Let her declare herself first. He’d already made a fool of himself once. This time, he would protect his heart—and then she laughed.
    He greedily began kissing the line of her neck, tickling her enough to laugh. To laugh! Had he ever thought of laughter and lovemaking? With his mistresses it had been their business to please him, and they’d been very serious about their work. They’d been seductive women who’d known what he liked and done it.
    Jemma was merely reacting to the pleasure of his touch.
    Dane pulled back. Their bodies were stretched alongside each other. Only two candles still burned, and in their flickering light, her expressive eyes appeared more alive than ever.
    She lightly ran her fingers down his whiskered jawline. “You tickled.” Her nipples were hard and tight.
    â€œIs that bad?” he whispered, reveling in the warmth of her body against his.
    Her mouth silently formed the word no. She focused on his lips and reached up to kiss him. Her tongue traced the line of his lower lip, tickling him and making him smile.
    It became a game between them. Dane delighted in trying to tickle her with his lips. The sound of her delight was a potent aphrodisiac. He kissed her shoulder, over her collarbone, down to her breasts.
    Jemma was no cold lover. She gasped and sighed her pleasure. It urged him on. He gave his attention to her full, beautiful breasts, then kissed his way down the flat expanse of her abdomen, steadily working his way lower.
    When he circled her navel with his tongue, she whimpered. He went lower, and lower still until he could have all of her.
    The moment his lips touched her intimately, Jemma startled and tried to close her legs. He placed his hand on her waist to let her know this was right and natural. Slowly, she relaxed, and he drank deep.
    Her fingers buried themselves in his hair as if to hold on for dear life. Her body curved to him, her legs over his shoulders. She whispered his name. He couldn’t help but smile; so sensitive was she to him that she felt the movement and found her release. Her body tensed and arched up off the bed. A sharp cry escaped her, a gasp of discovery.
    Dane gave her one last kiss, and she fell back to earth. He rested his head on her stomach, listening to her breath return to normal, inordinately pleased with himself.
    Jemma sat halfway up, propping herself up on her elbows, her hair back over her shoulders. “What was that?” she asked.
    His chin on his hand on her stomach, he met her astonished gaze and smiled. “Did you like it?”
    She released her response on a shivery sigh before adding, “Certainly it is nothing the Church has ever sanctioned.”
    Her dry response startled a laugh out of him. His own laughter sounded rusty, as if it had not been in use for a long time . . . and it hadn’t.
    He climbed up to lay beside her on the bed. Jemma turned in the curve of his arms. “And what of you?” she whispered, her fingers tracing the line of his arousal. She kissed him beneath his chin. “What can I do for you?” Her fingers closed around his erection, and now it was Dane’s turn to whimper.
    He rolled over on his back, bringing Jemma with him. Her eyes widened when she found herself sitting on his abdomen. He didn’t want to enter her yet . . . not quite yet.
    Her hair created a silky curtain over her breasts. He reached up and caught a shiny strand, measuring its distance down her body.
    â€œI used to wonder how long your hair was,” he confessed.
    â€œIt’s too long for fashion. I should cut it.”
    â€œNo, you shouldn’t,” he said quickly.
    The stain of a blush colored her cheeks as she admitted, “It’s my one