A twig cracked. Her eyes snapped open, and she squinted toward the sound. A blurry blob stood on the shore. Her heart jumped, but before she could say a word, his deep, smooth voice reached her ears.

"It appears we're both early."


Eric stood frozen in place at the sight of her, standing in the privacy of the secluded cove, waist-deep in the water, dressed only in her chemise, moonlight reflecting off her shoulders. He'd come early, unable to remain in his empty house, thinking about her, wanting her. He'd hoped she might arrive a few minutes early, but he hadn't dared to hope for… this. It was as if the gods had placed his fantasy before him, like a banquet feast.

Without moving his gaze from hers, he removed his jacket, allowing it to fall to the ground. Next he untied and removed his cravat. Then, without the slightest hesitation, he walked into the lake, not stopping until he stood directly in front of her. She stared up at him with a dazed, startled expression.

He took her hands, entwining their fingers, then lowered his head until their foreheads touched. "I trust I am no longer blurry."

She shook her head and their noses bumped. "No. But you've ruined your clothing. Your boots."

"I have others." He leaned back, drinking in the sight of her. A simple ribbon held her hair back from her face. Her eyes appeared enormous, filled with a nearly heartbreaking combination of longing and trepidation. Her mouth appeared to tremble, and the need to touch her, kiss her, slammed into him with such intensity he nearly groaned.

He placed her wet hands against his shirt, pressing her palms to his chest. "Someone told me that you swam in this lake," he whispered.

There was no mistaking the embarrassment that passed over her features. "The gossips often remark upon what they consider my eccentric behavior. I'm certain you were properly scandalized."

"No. I was fascinated." His gaze wandered down to her breasts which pushed against the thin material of her chemise. "You cannot know how many times I've imagined you like this. Wet. Waiting. For me."

"You have?"

"Yes." Almost constantly. Reaching out, he trailed a single fingertip slowly across her cheek, over her jaw, down her neck, watching the play of emotions flare in her eyes. Any questions he might have entertained regarding her still wanting to follow through with their plans evaporated by the desire he read in her eyes.

His hand continued its lazy journey, brushing over her collarbone, then slipping downward to caress the swell of her breasts. When a tiny gasp escaped her, he cupped his hands in the water, then drizzled a trail of cool water over her shoulder. A thin wet path meandered down her chest. Entranced, he repeated his action several times, allowing ribbons of water to drip off his fingers onto her moonlight-dusted skin.

"Everywhere the water touches you," he said softly, "your skin gleams like silver."

She clutched at his shirt. "Newton's law," she murmured in a breathless voice. "To every action there is an equal and opposite reaction."

"Ah. So when I touch you like this…?" He filled his wet palms with her full breasts. "What is your reaction?"

"I… shiver."

"And when I do this…?" He caressed her nipples through her wet chemise, tugging gently as he molded her soft flesh to his palms.

"Oh, my." Her head tipped back and a long moan escaped her. "I tremble. Everywhere."

"And this?" He slowly slipped the thin cotton straps down her arms, exposing high, rounded breasts topped with aroused nipples.

"I… I forget how to breathe."

Desire, sharp as a knife, stabbed him. With a low groan, he dipped his head, circling first one aroused peak, then the other with his tongue. She squirmed against him, still clutching his shirt as if it were a lifeline. Slipping one arm around her hips and cupping her head with the other, he leaned her back, drawing a plump nipple into his mouth. His lips and tongue caressed her, tasting her satiny, honey-scented skin, reveling in her quick intake of breath, followed by an earthy moan that aroused him beyond bearing. His hand slipped down to her rounded buttocks, and he pulled her tight against him, her feminine softness pressing against his hardness.

An inferno of need suffused him, and he lost all sense of time and place. Mine, mine, mine echoed through his mind as his teeth tugged her chemise lower. His wet fingers traced over her revealed skin as he trailed a hot path of kisses up to her neck, then fused his mouth to hers.

Blood rushed through him so hard that he felt it pounding in his ears. No woman, ever, had tasted like this. So sweet. So hot and silky. So delicious that he felt as if he could kiss her for days and still not have satisfied his hunger for her. He explored all the warm secrets of her satiny mouth, memorizing each tantalizing texture, as his hands wandered with increasing urgency up and down her back.

He needed to slow down, to savor each of her moans, but as she'd done before, she robbed him of his finesse. He hadn't planned to make love to her for the first time standing in the lake, but he couldn't seem to stop. Hell, he couldn't even slow down. His heart slammed against his ribs like a hammer. He felt as if his skin had shrunk two sizes, all but strangling him. He wanted, needed, her hands on him.

Breaking their kiss, he drew a ragged breath into his lungs. "Touch me, Samantha. Don't be afraid."

Uncertainty glimmered in her eyes. "I don't know what to do. I don't want to displease you."

He would have laughed if he'd been able. "There's not much chance of that." With one hand, he quickly unfastened his shirt, then glided her palm across his chest. A low growl rumbled in his throat. Releasing her hand, he said, "Do it again."

She brushed her hand across his chest, and his muscles contracted under her light touch. "Do you like that?" she asked, splaying her fingers against his skin, her eyes alight with wonder.

"God, yes."

Growing bolder, she lifted her other hand to his chest, and slowly eased her fingers downward, over his ribcage. "What is your reaction when I do that?" she asked.

It took every bit of his concentration to remain still and allow her to explore. "My heart pounds."

She ran her hands upwards, brushing over his nipples. "And that?"

He moved slightly, rubbing his erection against her. "It arouses me."

Her eyes widened. Taking one of her hands, he slid it down his chest, over his abdomen, then slipped it under the water. He pressed his rigid arousal against her palm. "You arouse me. Undeniably. Unequivocally. In a way that is nearly unbearable. So many 'u' words to describe what you do to me."

Her fingers closed around him, and his teeth clenched against the pleasure. He stood in an agony of sweet torment while she ran her fingers up and down his rigid length, learning him through his breeches. Her gaze remained steadily on his, and he watched her absorb the feel of him, along with the white-hot desire he knew burned in his eyes.

Without breaking their gaze, he unfastened his breeches, freeing his aching arousal. Her fingers closed over him, and his breath stalled. The cool water in no way tempered his ardor, and her hand enveloped him like a warm glove.

God help him, he didn't know how much of this he could stand. Her fingers moved over him, each caress killing him with pleasure. But when she squeezed him gently, he grasped her wrist.

"Did I hurt you?" she asked in a stricken voice.

His fingers tightened on her skin. "No. But when you do that…" he swallowed hard.

Feminine understanding suddenly gleamed in her eyes. "How do you react?" she asked in a voice he could only describe as smoky.

"It makes me forget to go slow with you. Makes me forget your innocence."

She flexed her fingers over his aching flesh and he groaned. "I do not feel very innocent," she whispered. "I feel decadent. And wicked. And… wanting."

God, he knew all about wanting. Wanting until he felt as if he'd caught on fire. Wanting, needing, until he burned from the inside out.

"I want to touch you more," she whispered.

Unable to deny either of them, he released her wrist. She glided her hand up and down, over him, igniting him until any semblance of control he might have imagined he still possessed, disappeared. Gone was his sophistication, his experience, his mastery over his own body. His hands trembled and his damn knees felt weak. All from her. Nothing existed except her. The touch of her hands. The feel of her skin. The need to be inside her overwhelmed him. Now. Before he exploded in her hands.

Slipping one hand under the water, he grabbed the hem of her chemise and drew it upward.

"Hold onto my shoulders and wrap your legs around my hips," he ground out in a barely recognizable voice.

She did as he bid, opening herself up to him. His hand slipped between them, under her chemise. He caressed her with a slow circular motion, watching her eyes slip shut. Her fingers bit into his shoulder muscles, her breaths long and deep.

"Look at me," he commanded.

Her eyelids fluttered open and pure male satisfaction slammed into him at her languorous, bemused expression. When she focused on his face, he said, "Say my name."

Her lips parted and she sighed out, "Lord Wesley."

"No. My given name. Eric." He parted her plump folds, teasing her gently, then eased one finger just inside her. "Say it."

"Eric," she whispered.

Her velvety warmth surrounded his fingertip, and his erection jerked in response. She was so tight. So warm. So ready. And he could wait no longer.

He slowly slipped his finger from her, and a soft moan of protest rumbled from her. With his gaze locked on hers, he grasped her hips, then guided himself slowly into her welcoming heat. When her maidenhead halted his progress, he stilled, the significance of his actions ramming into him like a brick to his head. He was about to take her innocence-irrevocably ruin her. But God help him, unless she begged him to stop, there was no turning back now.