Julie Garwood: One Pink Rose, One White Rose, One Red Rose

She made it halfway to him before she stopped again. "Wasn't it nice of Mr. Steeple to send champagne?"

"Yes, it was," he agreed. "He and Pickerman are already hatching up another plan to get you to sing again."

"But I made everyone cry."

"He's hoping you won't sing your church songs again."

"I will though."

He burst out laughing. "I know."

She ran to him and threw her arms around his neck. "I love you so much."

"And I love you."

She sighed deeply and then stepped back and began to remove her clothes. He found it difficult to swallow, and when she pulled the nightgown over her head and dropped it on the floor behind her, his heart began to slam inside his chest. She was perfect.

He drew her into his arms, and the feel of her soft skin against him was as wonderful as he knew it would be.

"You make me feel beautiful."

"You are beautiful," he whispered. "Ah, Genevieve, how did I exist before you?"

He kissed her deeply, passionately, lingering over the task of seducing her, and in between his ardent kisses, he told her over and over again how much he loved her. He stroked her back, her arms, and her breasts, and within minutes, her shyness was gone.

She took hold of his hand and led him to the bed. After he removed the rest of his clothes, he eased down on top of her and shuddered with desire.

"I want tonight to be perfect for you, Adam."

"It already is," he whispered.

"Tell me what to do so I won't disappoint you."

He nibbled on her earlobe. "You could never disappoint me."

Their lovemaking was magical, and so intense she thought she would go out of her mind. He knew just where to stroke her to drive her wild. She was awkward touching him, then eager, and when she couldn't stand waiting another second, he moved between her thighs and swiftly entered her. The pain of his invasion became all tangled up in ecstasy. He was so incredibly patient. He moved slowly at first until she was writhing in his arms, and then he increased the pace. He felt her tighten around him, knew she was about to find fulfillment, and allowed his own surrender.

She whispered his name. He shouted hers.

Spent, he collapsed on top of her and buried his face in the crook of her neck. The scent of lilacs surrounded him, and he was certain he had just died and gone to heaven.

She kept sighing. The sound made him arrogantly pleased with himself.

He finally found the strength to lift his head. "Did I hurt you, sweetheart?"

"I don't remember." Her hands dropped down to her sides, and she sighed once again. "It was wonderful."

"Then you wouldn't mind if we made love again?"

She knew he was teasing because of the sparkle in his eyes. "Now?" she asked.

"Soon," he promised.

"Every night," she decided. "We must make love every single night."

God, how she pleased him. He leaned down and kissed her again. "Life with you is going to be an adventure."