The Silver Bride

PART FOUR

A thought almost made it to the surface of Stella's blank mind. And then she looked into Dior's black glittering eyes.

Her heart lurched; her pulses raced. Dizzy and mindless euphoria took hold again. She raised an uncertain hand to cover one hard flushed cheekbone with a shy possessiveness entirely new to her.

Her spread fingers rejoiced in the rougher texture of his skin, her dilated pupils searching out every tiny detail of him that close. The lush black spiky lashes, so ridiculously long, the dramatic setting of his eyes below those dark defined brows; the sheer masculine beauty of his hard bone structure; the lean, arrogant perfection of his nose.

She c.a.r.e.s.sed his aggressive jawline with wondering tenderness, her whole being intensely absorbed in that appraisal. Nothing had ever felt so right or so natural. 'You are gorgeous,' she told him helplessly. Dior brought her down on something firm and deliriously comfortable and leaned over her.

He stared down into her dazed eyes, his flaming gold, and g.r.o.a.n.e.d, 'I thought you were the most perfect thing I ever saw in my life when I took that scarf off. Your hair, your skin, your eyes. You stunned me—'

Guess you're s-stunning me,' Stella stuttered, wit returning to take in the fact that she was lying on a bed in a dimly lit room, sudden dismay blossoming at the edge of her euphoria. 'You're very sweet underneath the tough front...' Dior lowered his proud dark head.

Stella could have drowned in those topaz eyes, could feel weakness escaping like a honeyed dam breaking its walls inside her, sentencing her to mesmerized stillness. He took her lips again, prying them apart with the wicked dart of his tongue. Her heart banged and her tummy quivered and she couldn't get breath back into her lungs.

Her submission was absolute, instinctive. She could not have resisted the e.r.o.t.i.c allure of that kiss had her life depended on it It was like being reborn, every sensation so sharp, so fresh, so intense she was hooked in helpless, urgent longing for the next. 'So sweet,' Dior growled low in his throat as Stella m.o.a.n.e.d and gasped under his expert mouth with shivering responsiveness. Peeling off his shirt, he raised her to him. Stella stiffened.

The whole of her vision was filled with that broad bronzed c.h.e.s.t and the thick, dark curling hair marking his pectoral muscles before snaking down into a fine silky furrow over his taut flat stomach. He lifted her hands and put them on him as if it was the most natural thing in the world that she should touch him.

Dior...' she said jerkily, shock waves running through her as the hard, hair roughened warmth of him met her splayed fingers. Heavens, there was so much of him, and suddenly she felt wildly out of her depth, recognizing that he was encouraging and expecting an experienced partner. 'Touch me,' he invited raggedly.

She studied her own hands as if she was hoping they would lift from him without any conscious message from her brain. But he felt so fascinatingly, wonderfully good. 'This is...this is a little bit fast for me,' she muttered with serious understatement because she still couldn't grasp how they had got as far as undressing on a bed.

He covered her small hands with his. 'You want me to leave, I will.' A cold stab of fear made Stella's stomach flip. She lifted her head to encounter sizzling dark eyes set in a lean, taut-boned face that made her ache with longing. Leave or stay. Nothing in between.

And if he leaves now, maybe he'll never ask again; maybe he'll think I'm just a tease, she reflected in anguish, finally appreciating that he saw no reason why they shouldn't enjoy each other immediately.

But I...' she began, not even knowing what she was going to say, terrified of sounding like some old-fashioned v.i.r.g.i.n and turning him off completely. 'Make your mind up.' Dior's dark drawl was urgent with stress and tension, pure, masculine need stamped on his lean dark features. 'I'm not made of steel and I am burning for you...' Stella's taut hands quivered under his.

She just couldn't take her eyes off him. His intensity melted her deep down inside. 'I want you too...so much.' Dior settled her gently back onto the mattress. 'I won't do anything you don't want me to do, Pethi Ree.' 'Of course not, but—' 'Open your mouth for me,' he urged raggedly.

And she did, taking instant fire from that passionate onslaught. She didn't notice him skimming her nightdress straps down her arms.