Eventually, she made him stop. She grabbed his hand and pulled it away, tucking it tight to her breasts while she continued to shudder in his arms. He held her then, pressing kisses to her temple and stroking her white skin until she lay languid in his arms.
“So,” he said lightly, “are you ready to try it yourself?” He was teasing her. He knew she was still too weak to do much more than lay against him. But to his shock, she nodded her head.
“Truly?”
She lifted her chin, catching his gaze in the mirror. Then she took a deep breath, lifting her breasts to his hungry gaze. “Yes,” she said, though he barely heard her over the distraction of her body. “I want to try doing that to you.”
“What?”
She straightened, using her body weight to push him backward on the bed. He fell easily, mostly because he was too startled to resist. And then he felt her fingers on his pants, and he jerked upright. Or rather, he tried.
She was prepared, holding him down easily with one hand. He could have set her aside. He should set her aside. Undressing him was not safe. He was too close to taking what he wanted. But she was insistent, and it felt too wonderful as the buttons eased around him. Then she was gently pulling away his falls, exposing his throbbing erection to the cool air and her tender caress.
He groaned. God, to be touched like this was heaven. Her fingers were gentle as she tortured the wet tip and sensitive ridge. She lifted him higher, apparently to touch his underside. She was too tentative, too uncertain, and yet he couldn’t make himself stop her. Whatever she wanted to do with him—to him—he would allow it.
“What should I do?” she asked. “Show me.”
He opened his eyes. Her expression was earnest, and her breasts were swinging near his left hand. So with one hand, he filled his palm with her breast. With his other, he took her fingers and wrapped them around his girth.
Oh God. Everything about it was wonderful. Her tiny hand in his as he showed her what to do. And all the while, her full, soft breast there for his enjoyment.
He began to thrust in her palm. He didn’t stop it, though he tried to go slow. He wanted this moment to last forever. He let his own hand fall away from around hers, hoping that the release in pressure would make it last longer. But she had learned quickly. She squeezed him just right and even picked up the pace.
Or maybe he was the one thrusting like a beast. Hard and fast. A quake had begun at the base of his spine, clawing upward no matter how much he tried to slow its progress.
And then he felt her lean down right next to his ear and whisper something. Three words that had more than his body exploding.
“I love you.”
Eighteen
Rakes are afraid of feelings. Never admit to having any.
Mellie watched as Trevor’s eyes widened in surprise. She heard his breath catch, and then the pleasure hit him. The biologist in her was fascinated by the ripple of his flat belly, the thrust of his hips, and his powerful ejaculation. The woman in her wondered at his panicked expression when she’d told him she loved him. Was he horrified by the thought? Or was she misreading an expression that might be a simple grimace brought on by his release?
She started to pull away, but he gripped her wrist, holding her close. His body was still quivering. His eyes locked on hers, but he clearly didn’t have the breath to speak. So she waited, and she watched, mentally cataloging every minute movement of his body. She told herself it was for her scientific studies. After all, she’d never seen a man ejaculate before. This was an important piece of her education. But a tiny part of her realized that she was running away from the shock of her impetuous revelation. She’d only just now realized her feelings. She hadn’t intended to tell him about them tonight. Perhaps not ever. And yet somehow, the words had just tumbled out.
And now… Now he was catching his breath and drawing her hand up to his mouth to press a long kiss to her knuckles. It was nice, surely, but what did it mean? She wanted to ask, but her mouth was frozen shut.
“Mellie,” he breathed. “God, you’re amazing.”
Well, that was good, she supposed. But he didn’t say more. Instead, he rooted one-handed into his undone pants and pulled out a handkerchief. He cleaned himself up with quick, efficient strokes all while keeping a tight grip on her with his other hand. She tried to judge his expression, but his eyes were on his task, and his face gave nothing away.
Then he was done. He pushed up to a seated position and tucked himself away. She made to get off the bed, but he still wouldn’t release her. And the longer it took for him to speak, the more her emotions seemed to whither inside her. They became tinier and colder until she thought her entire chest would freeze.
“Mellie, have you ever experienced orgasm with anyone else? Alone even?”
“You know I haven’t,” she said, her voice tight. How could he ask that when she’d just told him she loved him?
He nodded as if she’d confirmed exactly what he’d suspected. “Biology carries emotions with it as well. And an orgasm brings intense emotions. When I was a teen, I fell in love with a whore my father had given me for my seventeenth birthday.”
She blinked. “Your father gave you a whore?”
“I suppose she was more like a mistress. I had her for a month, and she taught me everything, even things I’m not sure I wanted to know. She pleased me in every way possible. Not just in the bedroom, but we talked about everything. She really listened to me, and that was such a rare thing in my life.” He shrugged. “She even pretended to a fascination with beetles.”
“So you loved her.”
“I was seventeen. Of course I loved her. With every fiber of my soul. I was going to marry her. Even bought a ring.”