Authors: Heart of the Storm
Rexanne Becnel (20 page)
He needed her right now in a way that no one had ever needed her before. How rare a thing that was, she realized in dawning amazement. All her life she’d been the needy one and her family had always been there, to nurture her when she was ill as well as all the rest of the
time. She’d never nurtured anyone in return though, except perhaps for Aubrey these past weeks.
time. She’d never nurtured anyone in return though, except perhaps for Aubrey these past weeks.
In contrast, Cyprian had probably never had anyone to nurture him, at least not since his mother had died. He always appeared so strong and capable, so utterly self-contained. But he needed her right now, that was plain. He needed her comfort and her understanding, and her touch to put him at ease. It was far too powerful a lure for her to resist.
Eliza relaxed against Cyprian’s arm that circled her back, and slipped one of her arms around his neck, albeit shyly. But when he looked up, putting their faces but inches apart, she did not glance away. His eyes looked black in the fading light, but they nonetheless appeared lit with a glow from deep within. His gaze dropped momentarily to her lips then raised back to her face. The light in his eyes, however, had grown decidedly hotter and she was conscious at once of everywhere their bodies touched.
His hand slid up her left arm. “What is it about you, Eliza?”
She shook her head slightly, confused by feelings that she could not explain. The true question was, what was it about him? Why was she drawn to him when there were so many reasons for her to fear and even despise him? Yet even cataloguing his faults—he’d kidnapped Aubrey, after all—she could nullify them too. He’d made Aubrey work and in the process the coddled little boy had grown strong again. He was a hard man, but he could be incredibly tender.
His hand moved again on her arm. “You know where this is headed, don’t you?”
Her eyes widened but she did not answer. How could she?
“You know that I intend to make love to you, despite the fact that you’re a noblewoman and I’m just a sea captain; despite the fact that you’re young and innocent
and I’ve been hardened by the world. That you’re promised to another. You know that, don’t you, Eliza?”
and I’ve been hardened by the world. That you’re promised to another. You know that, don’t you, Eliza?”
Eliza closed her eyes against the fire building in his eyes. Why was he saying this? Was he trying to scare her off?
But though he did scare her, she was unable to run from him. She opened her eyes. “I know it’s all wrong,” she whispered.
But he shook his head. “No, it’s not wrong. It couldn’t be more right.” Then his mouth caught hers in a hungry kiss. It was salty and it was possessive and it dissolved what little doubt remained in Eliza’s mind. Her free hand came around his neck and she arched into his body as fear and the most intense feelings of desire sent erotic shivers through her.
Just like that other time, she thought, as every part of her body remembered what he’d roused her to before. She’d tried not to remember, or at least not to dwell on what she’d allowed him to do to her in his cabin. But here it was, happening again, and the wanton feelings that gripped her increased tenfold.
Cyprian seemed to shed his weariness as he deepened their kiss, as if he took strength by their very contact. His mouth took complete possession of hers; his tongue delved deep, exploring every crevice with an amazing sort of passionate energy. Nor were his hands idle. One slid low on her hip, curving beneath her derriere and wreaking havoc with her heart’s pace. The other cupped her face with excruciating tenderness, stroking her neck and circling the soft hollows of her throat with a touch that felt like fire.
Just that quickly were all her brave resolutions abandoned. The hours since their lovemaking in the companionway had been interrupted by the storm disappeared as well, so that all Eliza had left was her need to be close to Cyprian, her need which grew with every caress, every kiss, and every incoherent murmur.
“Cyprian—”
“Touch me,” he whispered against her lips as he guided one of her hands down his side and toward his waist.
Eliza was consumed enough by passion to do anything he said. But when his hand then cupped her breast and his thumb brushed over her sensitive nipple once, then again, she was unable to follow through on her intentions. She went completely still—at least outwardly —unable to protest or twist away, or even lean into the warm pressure of his palm. Inside, however, every part of her leaped and twisted and clamored for more. More of these extravagantly forbidden feelings.
“Do you like that?” he whispered, breaking away from her lips to brand hot kisses along her cheek and neck and ear. “Do you like it?” he repeated, grazing his thumb back and forth across the now rigid nub.
“Yes,” she breathed, hardly aware she’d answered.
Somehow her sweater and blouse were pulled up; she couldn’t say how it came about. But all at once his work-roughened hands were no longer separated from her skin by the cotton and wool garments. He cast the pair aside and feasted both eyes and hands upon her naked breasts.
“By damn, woman. No mermaid conjured in the most desperate sailor’s dreams could be as beautiful as you,” he murmured as he filled his hands with her breasts, this time teasing both nipples to unimaginable pleasure.
It was not the sort of compliment a proper young English woman should expect to hear, but it did things to Eliza—both to her heart and to her body—that she could not begin to understand. Whatever his reasons for wanting her, Cyprian never let her doubt that it was strictly for herself.
She pressed fully into him, and kissed him with complete abandon. This time she did the exploring, slipping
her tongue between his teeth, experimenting with that exquisite thrusting motion he’d used on her.
her tongue between his teeth, experimenting with that exquisite thrusting motion he’d used on her.
At once he pressed upward, pushing his now rigid loins against her bottom. Then before she knew what was happening, he lifted her into his arms and with a quick movement, stood up and crossed to her bed. While the ship heaved back and forth in the rhythm she’d become so used to, he laid her in the bed and deftly untied her skirt. As quickly as he flung it away, so did he shrug out of his damp vest and shirt.
Then he pulled her hands to rest against his stomach —his hard, warm stomach, with its narrow streak of hair leading from chest to groin—and rubbed her palms just above the waistband of his breeches.
“Touch me,” he ordered once again, though the raspy demand was closer to a plea.
Eliza’s first reaction was to cover herself, to shelter her nude breasts and the bared place between her legs from his view. But he wouldn’t allow it.
“Don’t hide from me, Eliza. I want to see you. Every bit of you. I’m going to touch every bit of you too. And taste you.” Again he rubbed her hands against the line where his muscular stomach met the coarse wool of his breeches. “I want you to do the same to me.”
Eliza swallowed hard, suddenly afraid of all these overwhelming feelings. “I don’t know—”
“But you will,” he broke in. His eyes, dark with passion, compelled her. “Touch me, Eliza.”
She was unable to refuse. Slowly her hands moved down the rough wool. He released them and stood over her, one foot on the floor and his other knee on the bed, tense and trembling ever so slightly. Then her fingers encountered the thickened evidence of his desire and he went utterly still. She felt the buttons of his trousers, all five of them, as she slid her hands lower. But her eyes remained locked on his face, for there did the strength of his feelings show even more clearly. His eyes closed
and his strong throat flexed convulsively. The planes of his handsome face were taut with tension, and she could see his pulse, hard and fast, throbbing in a vein along his neck.
and his strong throat flexed convulsively. The planes of his handsome face were taut with tension, and she could see his pulse, hard and fast, throbbing in a vein along his neck.
She felt it too beneath the wool and the buttons, in the raging arousal that strained for release. Then he grabbed her hands away and held them down on the mattress alongside her head.
“Eliza—” He broke off and kissed her instead, hard and almost punishing, it felt. Perhaps she shouldn’t have done that, she wondered as desire made her dizzy. But she had no time to worry about that, for with an inarticulate groan, Cyprian tore off his boots and stripped his breeches down. In an instant he lay over her, all hot, hard muscle from his clenched jaw and solid chest, down to his iron-hewn thighs. But it was the jutting muscle between those thighs that drew her attention. For it lay burning and heavy between them, and she knew what must come next.
He broke their kiss and pulled a few inches away. “Eliza,” he began again. But like before he did not continue with whatever he’d meant to say. Instead he used one of his knees to spread her thighs and began an altogether different sort of conversation.
The engorged length of his manhood slid between her widespread legs, but Cyprian did not press her too quickly. Instead he rubbed one of his fingers along her lips and then slipped the fingertip into her mouth.
“Suck it,” he whispered, all the while using his tongue in the most erotic fashion on her ear.
Eliza squirmed against him, wanting to get away and get closer, all at the same time. But she pulled his finger into her mouth just the same.
When his finger was wet he pulled it free, then snaked it down between their bodies. Just one touch with that slippery finger directed unerringly to the place he’d
found that other time, and Eliza nearly came off the bed.
found that other time, and Eliza nearly came off the bed.
“Ah, you like that, don’t you, my sweet Eliza?” he murmured in hot breaths. “You’re all wet and ready for me.”
She felt as if she’d been ready for him all her life. Her hands ran up and down the rangy muscles in his arms and shoulders and along his straining back. She feared she was ready enough to explode.
But he seemed to know, for he guided himself toward the source of all her need and all at once her eyes came wide open. He was inside her.
But not all the way, she quickly realized. Slowly, in rhythmic little thrusts he slid deeper and deeper, filling her with an odd sort of pressure. It was like the ship being tossed helplessly upon a mighty, surging sea. She feared she would splinter apart, and panic welled up. But again he seemed to sense her fear, for he slowed the pushing and caught her face in his hands. “Just relax, sweetheart. Just relax and you’ll see, it’ll be easier.”
“I … I can’t,” she answered, ashamed of her fear and the tears pooling in her eyes.
Cyprian only smiled, though she sensed a strain behind the smile. “It may hurt a little, Eliza. I’ll be as gentle as I can. After that, though …” He moved a little deeper and she gasped. It was uncomfortable, but she didn’t want him to stop either.
“After a little while it’ll feel much better than anything you’ve ever felt before.”
“Better than … better than what you did that day?”
His grin widened and he kissed her, hard and triumphantly. “Better even than that.”
“But …” Eliza swallowed, lured by the promise of something even better than those incredible feelings. Was it possible? “But what about you?”
“Don’t worry about me,” he said, his smile fading. He
pulled out a little, then thrust back in, eliciting a gasp from Eliza, and causing sweat to bead up on his brow. “Don’t worry about me at all.” Once more he pulled out, then thrust his hips forward. But this time he drove all the way in, past her meager virgin’s barrier. She gasped at the sharp tearing pain. But it was quickly over and with a growing sense of wonder she realized that he now rested fully inside her.
pulled out a little, then thrust back in, eliciting a gasp from Eliza, and causing sweat to bead up on his brow. “Don’t worry about me at all.” Once more he pulled out, then thrust his hips forward. But this time he drove all the way in, past her meager virgin’s barrier. She gasped at the sharp tearing pain. But it was quickly over and with a growing sense of wonder she realized that he now rested fully inside her.
But he didn’t rest long. Before Eliza could catch her breath and adjust to the completeness of their joining, he began to slide out again.
“No, wait—”
She stopped abruptly when he slid all the way back in. “Oh.” Her eyes widened as he repeated the movement, and another surprised sigh escaped her. “Oooh …”
“Damn,” he muttered. As if he couldn’t prevent himself, he began to move faster.
Eliza’s eyes fell closed and without realizing what she did, she wrapped both arms and legs around him. “Cyprian,” she whispered, pressing kisses to the hot, salty skin of his neck and jaw. His unshaven skin prickled her lips but that only added to the exquisite myriad of sensations gripping her. His whole body was hot and straining and damp with sweat. Precisely how she felt on the inside.
“Cyprian,” she whimpered as he moved faster and faster. In and out again. Filling her and withdrawing. Stroking and building with every stroke an inferno she could not control. Hotter and higher. And then the explosion.
Eliza arched and cried out as her body seemed to shatter apart. All the light and heat and sound in the entire world centered right there between them, and in the following seconds, Cyprian was consumed by it too. He cried out, words she couldn’t understand, as he drove into her like a man possessed.
It happened so fast and furiously, so violently, that in
the aftermath Eliza could have believed herself dead and gone to heaven, though a heaven quite unlike anything her religion lessons had ever prepared her for. Cyprian rested on her, spent and gasping, his body collapsed. But she was collapsed too. And as the roaring in her ears subsided to only the creaking of the ship and their own mingled breathing, she knew that nothing could ever be the same again. Not her. Not them.
the aftermath Eliza could have believed herself dead and gone to heaven, though a heaven quite unlike anything her religion lessons had ever prepared her for. Cyprian rested on her, spent and gasping, his body collapsed. But she was collapsed too. And as the roaring in her ears subsided to only the creaking of the ship and their own mingled breathing, she knew that nothing could ever be the same again. Not her. Not them.
Nothing.
T
hey anchored in a quiet bay early in the afternoon. They would row to shore, Aubrey had told Eliza when he’d come to awaken her. And where had she been at breakfast, he’d inquired, for it had been nearing the noon hour by the time she’d arisen.
hey anchored in a quiet bay early in the afternoon. They would row to shore, Aubrey had told Eliza when he’d come to awaken her. And where had she been at breakfast, he’d inquired, for it had been nearing the noon hour by the time she’d arisen.
It was a question Eliza had not been ready to answer. Even now as she pulled on the men’s wool hose she’d been given, and slipped the heavy fisherman’s sweater over her blouse and skirt, she could hardly believe where she had been—or rather, with whom she’d been, and doing what.
While Aubrey had eaten breakfast with Xavier and Oliver, she’d been sprawled in a sated stupor, wondering at Cyprian’s insatiable appetite for her. She’d been the main course of his breakfast. And he’d been hers, she thought now, with hot color staining her cheeks. He’d touched and tasted and even nibbled on every portion of her anatomy during the long night and the morning that had followed, and she’d learned how to do as much to him. Giving him pleasure had been every bit as exciting as when he did it to her.
Later in the morning, after he left, she’d bathed herself with a sponge and bucket, and she’d witnessed the evidence of their near violent joining with her own eyes.
The reddened skin of her breasts where his stubbled jaw had scraped. And the inner skin of her thighs too. A small bruise on the side of her throat no doubt had occurred that second time they’d made love, when he’d gone slower and longer and yet had driven her to writhing ecstasy. He’d held her down with the weight of his body, and kissed and sucked every part of her body in the process.
The reddened skin of her breasts where his stubbled jaw had scraped. And the inner skin of her thighs too. A small bruise on the side of her throat no doubt had occurred that second time they’d made love, when he’d gone slower and longer and yet had driven her to writhing ecstasy. He’d held her down with the weight of his body, and kissed and sucked every part of her body in the process.
And then there were her nipples. They were pink and swollen and bigger than she’d ever remembered them being. Just to think of what he’d done to them with his lips and fingers and tongue caused them to stiffen again in lingering passion. Something deep inside her tightened too, and she knew that were Cyprian to walk through her door, she’d want to do all those things again, right this very minute.
She closed her eyes with a groan and sat back on the bed—the scene of her fall from grace.
Dear God, was she truly the same Eliza Thoroughgood who’d set out on this journey because she feared her coming marriage to Michael? If someone had just told her what pleasure she might find in the marriage bed, she would never have wanted to delay her wedding.
Yet Eliza knew, somewhere in her woman’s soul, that what she felt with Cyprian, she could never feel for Michael. To even think of herself lying with Michael that way—
She shook her head and frowned. Their marriage would have been a huge mistake. Or at the very least, rather passionless. Yet knowing that, she nevertheless felt an awful stab of guilt. She could never marry Michael now. Not that she wanted to. Cyprian was the only man she could ever conceive of marrying.
But he hadn’t spoken a word of marriage—or of love.
Eliza gnawed her lower lip, but with her new heightened sensitivity, that sent a tremor of remembered passion
burning its way through her. Was what she felt for him love? Or was it passion—the same sort of passion that had brought his mother to ruin?
burning its way through her. Was what she felt for him love? Or was it passion—the same sort of passion that had brought his mother to ruin?
Now she was ruined too, she realized as desolation washed over her. He’d seduced her and she’d not put up much of a fight. He had no reasons to make promises to her, did he?
But even if his intentions towards her were not the most honorable, at least his intentions toward Aubrey were changing, she consoled herself. He’d contacted Uncle Lloyd, and they were heading for London soon. She may have sacrificed her good name and reputation to him, but he’d said that Aubrey would soon go home.
As Aubrey’s guardian she should rejoice in that one victory. Shouldn’t she?
Cyprian watched the dinghy all the way to shore. He’d waited until just before the turning of the tide to send them, when the sea was calm and there was little risk of the boat being swamped.
Cyprian had wanted to take Eliza ashore himself, but after the night they’d just spent, he feared he’d never be able to concentrate on the boat. Just the two minutes he’d spent on deck with her this afternoon had proven that.
He groaned aloud to even think of it. Her face had been pale, then had turned the loveliest shade of rosy pink when she’d spied him. Her eyes had been huge, and their serious gray had changed in a matter of moments to a darker, more passionate color. She’d been both embarrassed and aroused at the sight of him, and it had been all he could do to get out an intelligent greeting.
What had he said anyway? Something about fair skies and a fortunate wind; about going ashore soon, and had she slept well.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered now, realizing why she’d
looked down and refused to meet his gaze again after that. Had she slept well! When had he become so completely muddle-headed over a woman?
looked down and refused to meet his gaze again after that. Had she slept well! When had he become so completely muddle-headed over a woman?
The answer was obvious. Since the unlikely Miss Eliza Thoroughgood had found her way onto his ship and under his skin. For that’s what he concluded it must be. He was obsessed with her and the incredible night he’d spent with her had only magnified it. He’d had her all night long, and yet he wanted her now all the more. Just the thought of covering her lovely body with his made him hard all over again.
Scowling into his spyglass, he willed his arousal away. When he saw Oliver lift Eliza out of the boat and wade ashore with her in his arms, however, Cyprian’s frustration turned to unreasoning fury. If he could have reached out and grabbed Oliver, he would have strangled the young sailor for taking advantage of her that way!
But once on the beach the boy put her down and after a few bobs of their heads, Oliver turned back for Aubrey who was splashing ashore under his own power. But Cyprian’s attention remained on Eliza. He could not get enough of her, not even from this distance. He’d only let Oliver go ashore with her because he was the strongest swimmer on board. If the boat had tipped over, Cyprian wanted Oliver there to save her. He’d sent Xavier to keep Oliver in check. But Cyprian had to admit—though reluctantly—that lately Oliver’s behavior toward Eliza had been completely blameless. He’d taken Cyprian’s threat seriously, it seemed. And Eliza had never encouraged him.
By damn, but she was a rare one, his Eliza.
His Eliza.
Cyprian removed the glass from his eye and stared at the small group as they made their way across the beach toward the stone steps that led up to his fortresslike
house. His Eliza. Was that what he wanted, for her to be his?
house. His Eliza. Was that what he wanted, for her to be his?
As he prepared to leave the
Chameleon
, assigning a skeleton watch and making one last check of the ship, Cyprian firmly suppressed any thoughts of what he wanted from Eliza, beyond the obvious. He’d told Xavier to put her in his bedroom. For now that was enough.
Chameleon
, assigning a skeleton watch and making one last check of the ship, Cyprian firmly suppressed any thoughts of what he wanted from Eliza, beyond the obvious. He’d told Xavier to put her in his bedroom. For now that was enough.
The bedchamber was huge. It boasted not only a gigantic bed dressed with the finest bed linens of Indian cotton, a Turkish carpet big enough for three normal-sized rooms, and a view of the bay and the
Chameleon
at anchor, it also had a sumptuous bathing chamber attached to it. And the generously sized roll-edged tub that stood in the middle of it was already filled with gently steaming water.
Chameleon
at anchor, it also had a sumptuous bathing chamber attached to it. And the generously sized roll-edged tub that stood in the middle of it was already filled with gently steaming water.
“When I saw the boats coming ashore, I began heating the water,” the housekeeper said. She’d introduced herself as Ana, but Eliza had already guessed that. For when the woman had come racing down the narrow steps and thrown herself into Xavier’s widespread arms, there had been no doubt that she was his wife. Their complete absorption with one another had been a beautiful thing to see—and painful too. Eliza realized that was how she wanted Cyprian to feel about her.
“After weeks at sea,” the almond-eyed Ana was saying, “the first thing I always want is a long luxurious soak. I’ll leave you now, unless you want something else?”
“Oh, no, this is wonderful. Just wonderful,” Eliza replied, smiling. Then she hesitated. “Oh, but I don’t have any clean clothes.”
“Do not concern yourself with that, miss. You bathe and I’ll lay out fresh garments for you on the bed.” She left with an encouraging smile and a ripple of her straight, hip-length hair. Eliza could only speculate
about Ana’s heritage. Indian, perhaps. Or Oriental. No matter the woman’s home country, however, Eliza was certain that if Ana and Xavier should ever have children, they would turn out exquisitely beautiful.
about Ana’s heritage. Indian, perhaps. Or Oriental. No matter the woman’s home country, however, Eliza was certain that if Ana and Xavier should ever have children, they would turn out exquisitely beautiful.
Eliza wasted no time in shedding her clothes and climbing into the big bathing tub. Rose petals floated on the surface, and once she’d submersed herself, she surfaced just enough that her nose protruded above the water. Her hair spread around her like a silky blanket, undulating in dark waves.
How utterly divine it felt to bathe again, though in truth she was not bathing. Not yet. She was soaking. Floating in a fragrant sea. She’d applied neither soap nor wash cloth to her skin, though myriad choices were laid out on a hammered copper tray beside the tub. Judging from the luxuries Cyprian surrounded himself with, he was a man of some wealth. Though not excessively showy, his home was extremely comfortable and reflected excellent taste, though the decor was completely masculine. It suited him very well, she decided.
The question was, did
she
suit him, for she already knew he suited her.
she
suit him, for she already knew he suited her.
Eliza sat up in the water and smoothed her heavy hair back from her face. For a moment she just stared blankly past the rolled rim of the tub.
On the surface they were so totally mismatched. He was a sea captain, a man who worked long and hard for his living. Hardly the sort her father would invite to dine with his family, let alone marry his only daughter. Cyprian had been raised without a father, by a woman ostracized from polite society. It was a far cry from her sheltered family upbringing.
But then, maybe their differences were the reason for the strong attraction between them. Maybe what he needed was a family, a warm, loving family circle to fill in the empty holes in his life. And perhaps what she
needed was simply to be needed, and to be the genesis of a family for him.
needed was simply to be needed, and to be the genesis of a family for him.
Eliza swallowed hard and pulled her knees up close to her chest. When he arrived from the ship, maybe she’d be able to judge, for they’d had little enough time to speak today. But how was she to broach such matters in conversation? And then, what if she were misinterpreting everything? What if all he really wanted was to bed her with no future beyond those intense moments of passion?
But Eliza didn’t want to think about that possibility. Once more she sank beneath the water, shaking her head so that her hair moved around her like a living thing. All over her body her skin tingled with delicious heat. When she finally surfaced, she let out a sigh of pure satisfaction. But a distinctly male chuckle jerked her out of her pleasant lethargy and she sat upright with a splash.
“Cyprian!” Eliza pulled her knees up to her chest then circled them with her arms. “You … you didn’t knock,” she stammered, hoping the water adequately concealed her state of complete nudity.
“You were underwater. How could you have heard?” He straightened from where he leaned against the door frame and moved in slow steps right up to the edge of the tub. Leaning down he tested the water, then ignoring her shocked expression, he stroked the side of her cheek. “May I join you, my lovely mermaid?”
“J—join me!” Eliza choked out.
“Yes, join you,” he repeated, shrugging out of his vest and shirt, all in one motion.
Eliza averted her eyes the moment his bare chest came into view. A part of her knew she was overreacting. Considering what had passed between them last night, a shared bath should not shock her in the least. Nevertheless it did. For one thing, it was still daylight. No shadows hid her from his view nor him from hers.
Unable to stop herself, she glanced sidelong at him. He’d already removed one salt-encrusted boot and was drawing off the second. Then he stood, meeting her tentative gaze with a wink, and she felt as if the bath water increased in temperature from pleasantly hot to positively steaming. His body could only be described as beautiful, she decided even as she tried to drag her eyes away. Big and muscular, with hard planes and intriguing ripples. He was as purely a male creature as she could imagine had ever existed.
And he was unfastening his breeches even as she watched.
This time she did look away, turning her head with a jerk and searching wildly about for a towel or a robe. Anything to cover herself with and make her escape.
But there was nothing, and anyway, it was too late. For with his own sigh of pleasure, Cyprian stepped into the tub and sat down opposite her.
Eliza stared at him in dismay. “You can’t do that.”
He sighed again and stretched his legs out so that his feet rested on either side of her hips. Then he leaned back against the tub and rested his arms along the sides. “I’ve already done it, Eliza. Besides, I would love nothing better than to have you scrub my back.” Then he grinned again. “Well, maybe
one
thing better.”
one
thing better.”
Eliza couldn’t help it. She blushed scarlet, from her chest, up her neck and across her face. Her arms tightened around her legs and she tried to make herself as small as she could. Yet even as she cringed from the overt intimacy of their shared bath, an unmistakable frisson of fiery passion began to curl and grow in her nether regions. The heated water was nothing compared to the wonderful burn of desire that sped through her veins with frightening speed. Her breath grew short, her nipples pebbled and her toes curled in unconscious longing. Every caress they’d shared last night came back to her. As the bath water moved languidly against her
skin, it might have been Cyprian’s palm or fingertip, or his lips and tongue, so excruciatingly vivid was her memory.
skin, it might have been Cyprian’s palm or fingertip, or his lips and tongue, so excruciatingly vivid was her memory.
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