Once upon a Dream by Nora Roberts Read Free Book Online Page B

I’ve touched who mattered.They’re shadows beside you, Kayleen. This,” he said and lifted her into his arms, “is real.”
    He carried her through the music and candlelight, up the grand stairs. And though she felt his arms, the beat of his heart, it was like floating.
    â€œHere is where I dreamed of you in the night.” He took her into his bedchamber, where the bed was covered with red silk and the petals of white roses, where candles stood flaming and the fire shimmered. “And here is where I’ll love you, this first time. Flesh to flesh.”
    He set her on her feet. “I won’t hurt you, that I can promise. I’ll give you only pleasure.”
    â€œI’m not afraid.”
    â€œThen be with me.” He cupped her face in his hands, laid his lips on hers.
    In dreams there had been longing, and echoes of sensations. Here and now, with those mists parted, there was so much more.
    Gently, so gently, his mouth took from hers. Warmth and wanting. With tenderness and patience, his hands moved over her. Soft and seductive. When she trembled, he soothed, murmuring her name, and promises. He slid the gown off her shoulders, trailed kisses over that curve of flesh. And thrilled to the flavor and the fragrance.
    â€œLet me see you now, lovely Kayleen.” He skimmed his lips along her throat as he eased the gown down her body. When it pooled at her feet, he stepped back and looked his fill.
    There was no shyness in her. The heat that rose up to bloom on her skin was anticipation. The tremble that danced through her was delight when his gaze finished its journey and his eyes locked on hers.
    He reached out, caressed the curve of her breast, let them both absorb the sensation. When his fingertips trailed down, he felt her quiver under his touch.
    She reached for him, her hands not quite steady as she unbuttoned his shirt. And when she touched him, it was like freedom.
    â€œA ghra.” He pulled her against him, crushed her mouth with his, lost himself in the needs that stormed through him. His hands raced over her, took, sought more, until she gasped out his name.
    Too fast, too much. God help him. He fought back through the pounding in his blood, gentled his movements, chained the raw need. When he lifted her again, laid her on the bed, his kiss was long and slow and gentle.
    This, she thought, was what the poets wrote of. This was why a man or a woman would reject reason for even the chance of love.
    This warmth, this pleasure of another’s body against your own. This gift of heart, and all the sighs and secrets it offered.
    He gave her pleasure, as he had promised, drowning floods of it that washed through her in slow waves. She could have lain steeped in it forever.
    She gave to him a taste, a touch, so that sensation pillowed the aches. He savored, and lingered, and held fast to the beauty she offered.
    When flames licked at the edges of warmth, she welcomed them. The pretty clouds that had cushioned her began to thin. Falling through them, she cried out. A sound of triumph as her heart burst inside her.
    And heard him moan, heard the quick whispers, a kind of incantation as he rose over her. Through the candlelight and the shimmer of her own vision she saw his face, his eyes. So green now they were like dark jewels. Swamped with love, she laid a hand on his cheek, murmured his name.
    â€œLook at me. Aye, at me.” His breath wanted to tear out of his lungs. His body begged to plunge. “Only pleasure.”
    He took her innocence, filled her, and gave her the joy. She opened for him, rose with him, her eyes swimming with shocked delight. And with the love he craved like breath.
    And this time, when she fell, he gathered himself and plunged after her.
    Her body shimmered. She was certain that if she looked in the mirror she would see it was golden. And his, she thought, trailing a hand lazily up and down his back. His was so beautiful. Strong and hard and