With This Kiss: Part Two Read Online Free PDF

telling his dream girl how much he adored and respected her.
    Telling her that he would make love to her in a queen’s bed or a stable, if she would give him a chance.
    That she was the center of his universe.
    It worked. Dream Grace caught his hand in hers, and then she kissed the tips of his fingers. The touch of her lips drove him mad.
    He lowered his head and ran his tongue over that little twist of hair again, pushing her legs apart to make room for his shoulders. He had never tasted anything sweeter. What’s more, he could hear Dream Grace’s breath changing, coming even faster. Her hand tightened on his, but he still had one free hand. He trailed his fingers up the smooth skin of her thigh, up and down, finally came closer.
    She twisted against him, murmuring words that Real Grace would never say… begging him, pleading with him.
    He loved it. Dream Grace had no dignity and no restraint. She was all sensuality, with desire that sprang from her heart and body.
    He ran a finger over her delicately. His hands had never felt so large and clumsy as they were at this moment. She screamed at his touch. The sound was pure pleasure, but he spared a moment to remind his imagination that it was his dream and virginity should have no part in it. He didn’t want that scream to have a hint of pain.
    Sure enough, Dream Grace was no virgin. She wasn’t in the least uncertain. She had one leg draped over his shoulder now, and she was arching wantonly toward his mouth. She was soft and wet… He slid a finger inside her, gasping at how tight and hot she was. She screamed again, so loudly the dream coachman could probably hear her, and then convulsed around his finger.
    He kept kissing her, luxuriously, slowly, with a kind of pleasure that he’d never indulged in before. She was gasping—panting, really—so he thrust another finger beside the first.
    Her cry was so sweet and passionate that he almost spent himself there, on his knees. One thrust of his fingers and she was shaking again, convulsing, driving him into a fever of desire.
    Damn, but he had a potent imagination. It was a good thing that he had thrown that laudanum out the porthole, because he saw now how easily a man could become addicted to dreams like this one.
    The only thing that annoyed him was that he couldn’t see her. But no complaining… He wouldn’t wait any longer. He stood, braced himself against the swaying coach, pulled his placket open and her thighs apart, and said, “I want you.” His own voice was so guttural, low and fierce, that he surprised himself.
    Dream Grace wasn’t the sort of illusion who argued with a man. As he put a knee on the seat, her arms came around his neck, and she pulled his mouth to hers.
    Colin positioned himself at the entrance to her sleek warmth and then slowly began pushing forward. This dream was amazing. He was ecstatic.
    No woman could possibly feel this tight and hot. No woman’s lips were that lush. No woman could turn his loins to fire with nothing more than a squeak, like a mix of surprise and desire.
    He pulled out, slow, and then worked his way back into her, shuddering with the pleasure of it. Then he caught her lips again, stilled because it felt so good, kissed her for a long moment, caught there between pleasure and movement.
    Suddenly he had a pulse of anxiety—what if the dream ended?—and remembered, at the same moment, that the woman who had put a leg over his shoulder didn’t need the sort of careful attention one might give a real woman. She was his , straight from his imagination.
    So he pulled out again and then thrust, roaring aloud at the pleasure he’d never imagined… hadn’t ever thought… His thoughts fell apart.
    He loved her; she was his center; he was nothing without her.
    For long minutes he had no other thoughts than the desperate heat in his loins and the blazing need in his body. He pumped fast, and then faster, one hand caressing her breast, the other balancing himself against