“No one is making you do anything, ma petite,” he replied gently, kissing her stomach. “We are just exploring possibilities.”
“But, Gregori,” she tried to protest, attempting to bring his head back up so that he could see her very real fear for him, for their life together.
“If I cannot persuade you otherwise, mon amour, I am not much of a lifemate, now am I?” The words were muffled in the tight silky curls, the intriguing little triangle at the apex of her thighs.
“You don’t understand, Gregori.” Savannah closed her eyes against the waves of fire racing through her. “It’s me who is no real lifemate. I don’t know how to please you, and I’m so afraid of this.”
“Relax, bébé.” He breathed warm air against her, inhaled her scent. “You please me far more than you will ever know.” His teeth nipped her thigh, his tongue caressing her shadows and hollows, following the path his fingers had taken.
She cried out at the feelings sweeping through her, tumultuous, turbulent, wild, and untamed. She was no longer on earth but soaring free, spiraling and spinning out of control.
Gregori’s body moved over hers, hard and hot, his strength enormous, but his hands were tender as he cupped her head in one palm. His knee inserted itself very gently between hers to give him access to her. Savannah, still rippling with the aftershocks of her climax, was barely aware of the weight of him pinning her down, once more making her vulnerable and open to him.
Gregori took the advantage while he had it, pressing intimately into her entrance. She was slick with need, hot, tight, and velvet soft. He felt her gasp at his invasion, and he paused to allow her body an opportunity to adjust to his size. She was holding her breath, waiting for the terrible, tearing pain. Her fingernails dug into his back, and she made a small sound of protest against the weight of his chest. But she felt only ripples of fire, a storm of intense pleasure washing over her, consuming her.
“Relax, Savannah. Relax for me. You were meant for me, created for me. And I was created for you.” He feathered kisses from her temple to her throat, his hips moving in a gentle, coaxing rhythm.
She could feel the sheen of perspiration on his back, evidence of the tremendous effort he was exerting to hold back. His every touch, every movement, was tender, gentle.
He moved into her with exquisite care, astonished at how perfect she was, tight and fiery hot. His thumb brushed her lower lip, the small bruise discoloring the side of her mouth.
At once her lip tingled with warmth, was soothed as if he had laid a mystical balm over it. Her heart slammed against her ribs. He was doing things to her body not only with his body, not only with his hands, but with his mind.
In spite of every fear, in spite of the memory of his earlier attack, Savannah was caught up in the fire, in the tenderness. Her body slowly relaxed, slowly accepted his. Gregori buried himself deeper, a long, sure stroke that had her gasping, her nails digging into his arms, holding tight to keep from soaring away into the night.
He whispered softly to her, a mixture of French and his ancient tongue. She knew very little of either language, had no idea what he was saying, but the words excited her, comforted her. She felt as if she were important to him. Not her body. Her—Savannah.
“How could you doubt such a thing, chérie?” he whispered against her breast, his mouth moving back and forth in a subtle rhythm matching the long, slow strokes of his hips.
Her body, of its own accord, followed the tempo of his. They moved together as they were meant to, their hearts beating as one. Gregori’s hands gliding over her skin, his soft murmurs of encouragement, added to the beauty of their union. He was incredibly gentle, initiating her as he should have the first time, with care and tenderness.
She wanted to cry. It was unbelievable, the way he made love to her, as if she was the most precious, cherished, beautiful woman in the world. She clutched him, hanging on to the only reality she was certain of as her body tightened, the pressure building and building until she cried out with the need for release. Only then did he allow himself the luxury of burying himself deep and hard, merging himself with her completely. He held them both at the peak, riding the crest until her keening cries and the heated velvet of her body surrounding his drove him over the edge. He took her with him, right over the precipice. Savannah’s soft voice was muffled against his chest. She was falling, lights bursting, exploding all around her, but Gregori was there, everywhere, holding her close in strong arms, making certain she was safe.