“You haven’t!”
“I said I would keep you safe.”
“I am.”
He pulled back from her, his hands leaving her hips at the very last moment. And then he slowly straightened to his full height. She watched him move while her breasts suddenly felt cold. Oh hell, she’d done it again. She’d done something odd, and he was pulling away. She raised her hands to cover up again, but he stopped her.
“Please,” he rasped.
She froze. “What?”
“Wait a moment. Let me look.”
She let her hands drop as she looked at his face and then down at herself. Her breasts were bared, her nipples tight. The moonlight made her skin bright and he extended his hands toward her, but stopped short of connecting.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured.
She looked down at herself then back up to him. There was no denying the hunger in his expression.
“You like looking at me?” she asked. She wasn’t confused. She was interested. After all, he was helping her to learn what she liked. It was only fair that she learn what he enjoyed.
“Yes,” he said.
She smiled, feeling a bit daring. “Is there a pose you prefer?”
His laugh came sharp then was quickly muffled. “Try a few out. Let me see.”
So she did. She stretched her hands up high and arched her back. She left one up as the other dropped to her hip. She moved in a systematic way through different arm positions, different angles of her spine, even different tilts to her pelvis. She had once as a child done a study of flexibility. She had wanted to see the limits to the angles her body could move. She didn’t go through all of them now. Indeed, she merely played with a few while he watched with flared nostrils and a steady regard.
Then she stopped and asked, “Well?”
“What?” His gaze rose to her face slowly.
“What was your favorite?”
“All of them. Absolutely every single one.”
That wasn’t logical, but it pleased her nonetheless. Then he tugged on one of the ribbons of her shift.
“Cover up now,” he said. “I need to get you back inside.”
She did as he bid, tying her ribbons and rebuttoning her dress. She waited until they were walking back to the inn to ask the question that had burned in her thoughts.
“What exactly did I do wrong? I want to learn.”
She felt his jerk in reaction. “What? You did nothing wrong.”
“Then why did you stop?”
“Because I swore to keep you safe and taking your virginity against a tree would be breaking my word.”
She processed his words. “I would have told you to stop.”
“Are you sure?”
She thought about it. She recalled how she had given herself over to the sensations, how her mind had stopped cataloging everything and had just grown silent as she experienced it all. And she knew that her breasts were still heavy, her gait languid, and every brush of her dress against her skin shot off sparks of feelings. If he had continued, would she have stopped him?
“Perhaps not.”