"Isa," he breathed, his lips skimming hers, "you are so warm, so soft here," he gently squeezed the resilient flesh; "so hard here," he took the firmly aroused nipple to stroke it gently, rolling it between his fingers rapturously. "How I have waited."
She lay with her mouth a mere inch away from his, feeling his words on her skin, finding no answer but to lie beneath his touch while he relearned the beauty of her body.
He gazed at her with awe, drinking in the sheer perfection of what she offered him.
Within Belle, incredulous feelings stirred at the sensations he aroused in her. So when he gently soothed her gown from her shoulders, a current of impatience and longing already flowed between them, even before their bodies fully joined.
He touched her hair, her shoulder, took her hand from behind him and kissed its palm, then pressed her back into the pillows.
Then he leaned to do what he’d thought of for so long after she returned to him; he kissed her breasts and ran his tongue against the hardened buds, stunning Belle with sensations that gushed through her. Warm, wet, hungry tongue swooped, swept, stroked, and sucked.
A fierce craving surged through Belle as his lips tugged at her breast. She felt a physical hunger that made her ache for cool, flowing water, and beneath it, an emotional hunger that stirred vivid images of warm, quivering flesh.
Her body responded on its own, pressing back, arching against him, hands threading through his hair. Every tug of his mouth, every movement of his tongue, ignited fire along her nerves. He groaned softly at the feel of her fingers, and that sound sent shivers cascading through her.
Her ribs rose, her back arched, and she surrendered to the ache building inside her. She couldn’t stop the way her body reacted, couldn’t hold back the longing that had been simmering for days.
Her hands tugged at him impatiently, then cupped his cheeks, tracing the hollows to feel the full heat of his mouth on her nipple. His hungry, sucking mouth and the wet sounds it made sent a moan rising to her throat, but she bit it back to keep the children asleep. She felt sated yet craving more, filled yet hungry, every nerve taut with need and anticipation.
His lips moved over her body, and Belle melted into the slow, teasing pace he set. Beneath his lips, he felt her stretching like a cat as he touched the hollow between her ribs. His hands stroked the curve of her waist.
As if compelled by some unspoken magic, she lifted her arms above her head, arching her back further, presenting herself to him in a languid, heated invitation he had not expected. Her hips pressed up, warm and yielding, the soft hollows beneath his palm inviting him closer.
Slowly, fluidly, he slid his body beside hers, finding her lips again. She lowered her arms, circling them around his shoulders to pull him closer, deepening the contact between them.
"Rohan," she murmured, lying in wait until at last he found and touched her where she ached the most for him, where his fingers slid and rubbed her damp folds of warmth.
"Oh, Isa," his voice came raspy, his mouth buried between the pillow and her ear. "I cannot wait anymore." His arousal had reached a limit he could no longer hold back, and her reaction to his touch was driving him crazier than anything else.
"Then don’t hold back..." she breathed.
He covered her with the length of his own body, thinking, Isabelle, Isabelle, whispering her name over and over again like a prayer.
His hips thrust against her of their own accord, bringing a rustle to the bed that resounded in the silent room. Fiercely, he cupped the back of her neck, pulling her ear roughly against his throaty whisper.
"Isa, let’s go outside... please." He bent his ear to her lips again. "I don’t want us to be interrupted."

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