Fit for a King Page 18
She did, astonishing herself with her own shameless whispers. She looked up at him then, seeing his eyes blazing with love, his face taut with passion but tenderness, as well. She threw back her head and nearly wailed as the first wave hit her and she went into spasms of hot, almost unbearable pleasure.
Somewhere in its midst, she felt him move, felt him still, heard him cry out above her and then shared the delicious echo of her own shudders.
It was a long time before she could breathe again. The stars came back into focus over his shoulder, and she felt the warm wind off the ocean on her damp, bare skin.
“The first man and woman—it must have been like this for them,” she whispered in his ear. “Alone in the world, under the sky, joining.”
“Joining,” he whispered. “Cherishing. Becoming one.” He lifted his damp head and searched her rapt eyes. He kissed her softly, touching her belly. “Is he all right?” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to get so rough.”
“He’s fine,” she whispered back, smiling.
“It excites me,” he said quietly, “having my child inside you, knowing I helped create him.” He breathed deeply. “What I wanted to say to you,” he murmured, resting half his weight on his forearms without moving away from her, “is that when we make love, it isn’t just sex.”
She smiled. “Yes, I know.” She adored him with her eyes, the excitement growing again. “It’s an expression of love, isn’t it, King? It always was, even the first time.”
“Reading my mind again,” he murmured contentedly. “I’ve noticed that even your parents seem to do that.”
“I think they’re pretty super,” she said.
“So do I. That being the case, it might not be a bad idea if we adopted them.” He toyed with her lower lip. “What with his lizards and her crime busting, they need looking after.”
“Mother almost wept with relief when she found out we were bringing Warchief back with us, did you notice?” She grinned. “She thinks he’s a giant green mosquito.”
He grinned, too. “He bites, all right. But he’s learning to sing lullabies—have you noticed?” he added on a frown.
“I’m teaching him,” she confessed. “I expect to have more than one child, you know. He can sing babies to sleep while I rock them.”
His powerful frame trembled a little. “I like babies.”
She shifted her hips very slowly, her lips parting, her eyes come-hitherish, feeling him begin to tauten. “So do I,” she whispered. “And this time,” she added, pushing at his shoulders until she got him onto his back and moved over him, “I’m going to show you something new.”
“Elissa …” He held her hips, hesitating.
“Just relax,” she whispered, looking like an imp, her eyes sparkling. “I won’t hurt you.”
She moved, and he groaned harshly. And then it was too late to protest. He felt his body being flung up against the sky, hearing her soft laughter, dying in the throes of a feverish struggle for control that even as he fought, he lost.
When his eyes opened, her face was there, smiling at him, loving him. He sighed. “Well, I guess there had to be a first time,” he teased, exhausted. “And we are married, and it’s a new world.”
“Prude,” she whispered, putting her mouth softly on his. “You’re just afraid you’ll get pregnant in this position.”
He burst out laughing, holding her to him. “You enchant me,” he whispered. “Tease me, torment me, burn me up. I love you so damned much, I can hardly breathe for it.”
That was the first time he’d actually said it. Tears burned her eyes, and she buried her face against his chest, hugging him to her. “I love you, too,” she whispered. Her eyes closed. “I always will.”
His arms closed around her, and he sighed. “Have you ever noticed how close heaven seems when you look up at the stars?”
She smiled against the rough hair over warm, pulsating muscles. “I know how close it feels,” she murmured, nuzzling his chest.
“Yes,” he said gently, pressing his hand to her stomach as he folded her against his side. “So do I.” He kissed her forehead with aching tenderness. “So do I, my darling.”
Above them, a silvery drift of clouds passed over the waning moon. And back in the villa, a gravelly parrot voice was crooning the opening bars of “Brahms’ Lullaby.”
* * * * *
DIANA PALMER
The prolific author of more than a hundred books, Diana Palmer got her start as a newspaper reporter. A multi–New York Times bestselling author and one of the top ten romance writers in America, she has a gift for telling the most sensual tales with charm and humor. Diana lives with her family in Cornelia, Georgia.
Visit her website at www.DianaPalmer.com.
New York Times and USA TODAY
Bestselling Author
Diana Palmer
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Fit For a King
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