“Terrified,” Bert admitted. “But in a good way. You?”
“Same.” Mary reached up and covered his hand with hers. “But I want this, Bert. I want you. Tonight, I don’t want to be afraid anymore.”
They reached their stateroom, and Bert unlocked the door with hands that trembled slightly. Inside, he locked the door behind them and turned to find Mary watching him with eyes that were dark with desire and trust in equal measure.
“Come here,” Mary said, her voice steady despite what Bert could see was nerves.
He moved to her, kneeling so they were eye level, and took her hands. “Mary, I need you to know something before we go any further. Tonight is about us figuring this out together. There’s no script, no expectations, no right or wrong way to do this. We just communicate and trust each other and stop if anything doesn’t feel good. Okay?”
“Okay.” Mary’s hands tightened on his. “But Bert? I need you to know something too. I’m done being afraid. I want to discover what works for us. I want to be with you in every way. So if I seem uncertain or nervous, it’s not because I don’t want this. It’s just because it’s new, and I don’t know what to expect from my body anymore.”
“Then we’ll find out together.” Bert kissed her, slow and deep, pouring everything he felt into the connection. “And whatever we discover, it’ll be ours. Perfect for us because it’s ours.”
His fingers moved to the buttons at the front of her blouse, slowly unbuttoning them one by one. Sliding his hands under the material and over her shoulders, her shirt slipped down her arms and pooled at her back as she leaned forward.
He continued to kiss her, loving the feel of her hands on him as she did the same, unbuttoning his shirt. Once it was on the floor, he reached back and grabbed his T-shirt, pulling it over his head.
Her eyes roamed over his torso as her fingers danced a trail over his chest and abs. He loved her touch, finding his skin warming with each movement of her delicate hands.
He bent to slip off her shoes, then he stood and removed his shoes, socks, and pants. Now, only in boxers, he leaned over her chair. “Can I carry you to the bed?”
She nodded, and he slipped one hand under her knees and the other at her back. Lifting her in his arms, he easily carried her to the bed. Her blouse fell away, joining his clothes on the floor. Once she was settled, her hands moved to the waist of her pants. She began pushing them down, but he gently assisted, sliding the material over her hips and down her legs. Now, both were clad in only their underwear.
“I… well, I guess you can see that my lingerie is more practical than sexy,” she said, a slight blush staining her cheeks.
He looked down and shook his head. “I know women often think that less is sexier. Or a thong is what will turn a man on. But, honest to God, Mary… women’s underwear to a man is just…” Now he blushed.
She laughed. “Come on, you can’t stop there.”
“Well, underwear is just one last piece of clothing to get to the prize… or the offering. Silky or cotton, tiny or full covering… it doesn’t matter to a man. Certainly not to this man.”
Her hand held on to his shoulders as he leaned closer. “Thank you for that. It’s hard to feel sexy since the accident. I’m still getting used to everything.”
She settled her back against the mattress, and Bert stretched out beside her, his hand sliding into her hair as he kissed her again.
“Tell me what feels good,” Bert murmured against her lips. “Tell me if something doesn’t work. Guide me, Mary. This is about you feeling good, about us finding what brings us both pleasure.”
“Kiss me more,” Mary said, her fingers sliding into his hair. “Just kiss me and touch me and let’s see where it goes.”
So Bert did. He kissed her like he had all the time in the world, like there was nowhere else he’d rather be than right here with her. His hands explored with reverent care, gliding over the curve of her neck, the slope of her shoulder, the softness of her skin. Every touch was a question, every response from Mary an answer that guided him forward.
She unfastened her front-closure bra, and he assisted in taking it off. She was glorious, and he kissed his way down, paying attention to each breast. She groaned and pressed her chest toward him.
When his hand slid lower, Mary gasped and arched into the touch. “That feels good,” she breathed. “More of that.” Her voice broke slightly. “I want to know what I can feel, what still works. I want to know if I can—if we can?—”
“We can,” Bert assured her. “Whatever that looks like for us, we can. I promise.”
They took their time, discovering together what Mary could feel and what she couldn’t, what brought her pleasure and what didn’t quite work. Bert listened to every gasp and sigh, watched her face for signs of discomfort or pleasure, and adjusted his touch based on her responses.
And slowly, wonderfully, they figured it out.
29
When Bert undressed her, Mary wanted to be comfortable, but it was to no avail. His kisses made her almost forget everything she couldn’t do, but she couldn’t conquer the fear. Once they were on the bed and all clothes were cast aside, she craved his lips and hands on her breasts.
Her breasts were sensitive, and as the electricity zipped through her body, she rejoiced that she could feel more than she’d feared. Her sensation wasn’t completely gone, but it was different. She gasped while arching, holding him tighter. Pleasure zinged through her, ending with a light flutter in her core.
“I can feel that,” Mary said, wonder in her voice. “Bert, I can actually feel… it’s faint, but… something?—”