“Trick, the things you say…”
“Ah…” He leaned over her. “The things I say are nothing compared to the things I’ll do.” His hands moved to cup her face, and he bent her back for a long, deep kiss.
Her knees buckled. Trick caught her, laughing low, and swung her into his arms to deposit her on the bed. She felt dwarfed in its middle, the bedposts and ice-blue damask towering around her, but when Trick came down next to her, the bed was the last thing on her mind.
“Does your maid do this?” he asked, working the gossamer chemise up her legs.
“N-no. At least, not like that,” she breathed, feeling his fingers skim the sensitive insides of her thighs. “No one has ever done—” She gasped.
“It’s glad I am to hear it.” Refocusing his attentions, he moved up to tease her breasts, and she watched her nipples pucker beneath the filmy fabric. It was scandalous, but wonderful all the same. He drew the garment off her shoulders, then bent his head and fastened his lips on one rosy peak.
Kendra shuddered. Hot and wet, his mouth elicited a melting sweetness within her. She arched with pleasure, tangling her fingers into his hair. A low hum of satisfaction vibrated from his throat into her body, and she arched again when he licked his way to her other breast and lavished it with little kisses and gentle bites whose mild sting he suckled away.
Her senses spun, and an ache started building deep inside her.
Just when she thought she couldn’t take any more, he sat up and helped her out of her chemise. Sucking in a breath, he stared down at her, then broke into a grin that had her heart lurching.
Far beyond embarrassment, she only reached for him, desperate to feel him again. With a strangled laugh, he dodged her grasp and hurried out of his breeches.
She stilled at the sight. Dear heavens, he was beautiful.
But there was no way he could fit.
“Leannan.” Clearly unaware of her distress, he lowered himself to the bed and molded his body to hers, drawing up the coverlet to lock in their warmth.
“Trick—”
A smile curved his lips before his mouth descended to meet hers. And then he was kissing her, skimming her body with worshipful fingers, driving every coherent thought—and worry—from her brain.
Almost. She froze again when he reached to part her legs. “You’re wet,” he whispered.
She was. And his touch felt exquisite. For long minutes he skillfully teased her to pleasure, until she writhed against him with a strange, marvelous feeling so urgent she wondered how she could bear it.
Her hands dug into his shoulders, her nails raked his back, her fingers clawed at his hair. And all the while he kissed her, his mouth fused to hers, hot and tasting of the forbidden.
She felt melted inside, too weak to protest when he shifted over her. “Leannan,” he breathed, pushing into her, slowly at first. Then harder when he seemed to hit a barrier—a quick thrust that seemed to tear her apart.
The melting feeling died instantly, and she stiffened, every nerve in her body screaming with fiery pain.
“Oh, my God! Get off of me, Trick!” She’d known he wouldn’t fit. “Stop it! Now!”
“Just wait,lea—”
“No!” She pushed at his chest, biting her lip to stop the tears that flooded her eyes.
“Hearts wounds, Kendra. Just wait—it’ll get better—”
“No,” she sobbed out. “Please, just get out of me.” She twisted under him. “Please!”
He shifted off her body. “Hell, I don’t believe this.” He lay there, breathing heavily for a minute, then rolled to the edge of the bed and sat up, rubbing his face with his hands. “I just do not believe this.”
She didn’t believe it, either.
He dropped his hands and turned to her, reaching for her face. “Sweet Mary, I’m sorry,” he murmured, caressing one tear-stained cheek. “I should have been slower, more gentle. I thought you were ready. You were so passionate. So wet…”
“You won’t fit.”
“What?” His fingertips stilled on her chin.
