He wanted her to have the same experience.
His cock twitched between them, pressing against her stomach, but he did his best to ignore its demands. Soon. Or at least, perhaps not soon, but eventually. She had asked about itfitting, which meant she had every intention of letting him ravish her properly.
This would be as new an experience for him as it would be for her.
He’d had his share of lovers before, but while he’d had affection for many of them and had thought himself in love several times as a youth, he had never felt more than infatuation. And they had all been experienced—some more so than he.
This—lying with a virgin, inexperienced and untested—was new.
Lying with her, knowing that she had a hold on his heart he could hardly explain, was morbidly terrifying.
And yet… wonderful.
By degrees, she softened in his arms, bringing her hands to his shoulders and clinging to him. The tension fled from her limbs, and when he finally raised his head, lust-drunk eyes stared at him from behind her glasses.
He adjusted them, pushing them further up her nose. Kissing her with her glasses on was perhaps not the easiest thing in the world, but he wanted her to see all of him. Clearly, so she might make an informed choice.
As she watched him, pliant and relaxed, he busied himself with the ribbons down her side. Once loosened, he stroked a finger across her pearled nipple, and she caught her breath.
“I have been thinking about these—and you—for longer than I dare admit,” he murmured, letting her drink in his words as he continued to touch her over her nightgown. “Your mother may have conditioned you into thinking you are not beautiful, Chris, but you are beautiful tome. I have no desire for conniving ladies with their practiced wares—what you have to offer is far more precious because you do so willingly and without artifice.” Finally, he unlaced the final ribbon, and the nightgown quivered on the brink of falling entirely. He felt as though he quivered on the brink with it. “I would love how you look whether you had three arms or six eyes or if you were green all over.” He kissed her again, sliding a hand down her stomach. “You have tormented me with desire almost as soon as you entered this house, and I assure you there is nothing here that will make me want you less.”
Her smile was sweet and lovely. “You speak as though you were a poet.”
“Blame my muse.”
She laughed then and took hold of her nightgown, sending it fluttering to the ground. Hugh looked at her.
And looked.
Pink nipples, tiny breasts, angled hips, and a dark thatch of hair between her legs. There was very little softness to her body, but he drank her greedily in. Her skin looked delectably soft, and when he palmed her breast, she let out a sigh that went straight to his groin.
She was tall for a woman, flat-chested and near boyish, yet he had never desired someone so much in his life. Every second he wasn’t inside her was torture.
“Chris,” he rasped. “May I touch you?”
She stepped closer, plastering her front against him, not seeming to notice or care that her hand rested against the wrinkled, reddened scars of his chest. “Please,” she said. “Oh, please.”
That was encouragement enough. He ducked, wrapping one arm under her backside and his other around her waist as he strode out from behind the screen to his bed. Ordinarily, when a husband and wife had separate beds, the husband visited his wife, but he had no intention of sending her away and only visiting her when his needs demanded it.
If she was amenable, he would keep her here, in his bed. Where she belonged.
He laid her down gently on her back and bent, pressing his lips to her breast. She gasped, this time in surprise, and arched her back. Taking advantage of her position, he slid a hand underneath her, bracing her against him as he licked her nipples, drawing the sensitive buds into his mouth. Her eyelids fluttered, and she pinned her mouth together as though afraid of the sounds she would make if given the chance.
He wanted, very much, to hear them.
But he put his impatience to one side, choosing instead to kiss every inch of skin. Her neck, the lines of her collarbones, breasts, stomach. He reached her thighs, drawing them gently apart, and she allowed him, her knees falling open as he licked her inner thigh. From his vantage point, he could see her arousal, slick between her curls.
No matter how curious from a purely scientific basis she might have been, there was no denying that she wanted this. Her body responded to his as well as he could ever have hoped—morethan he could ever have hoped—and the last of his doubts fell away.
They were there together.
With one finger, choosing his good hand, he slid a finger through her wetness, biting back his groan at the feel of her against his skin. Her hips bucked, and he slid up her body to lie by her side, pressing another kiss to her lips. No matter how desperately he wanted to taste her, he would ease her into this gently.
“Have you ever touched yourself there?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Not like—not like this.”
“How?”