He grinned. “All right. Why don’t you unfasten the buttons on my shirt?”
Easing back up, she went to work, the billowy cloth soft beneath her fingers, trembling ones that made the task a bit more complicated to complete. Finally, they were all free. Reaching back, he began dragging the shirt over his head, revealing a lovely expanse of skin and broad chest. Her fingers flittered over the few hairs that resided in its center. Then she flattened her palms on either side of his sternum and glided them up, down. So firm, so warm.
The muscles on his arms bulged, no doubt forged by his labors. She doubted any nobleman possessed such a well-defined body. Physicians could use Finn as a tool for teaching how the muscles flowed one into the other, weaving together to create such a magnificent whole.
She lowered her gaze to the fall of his trousers, could make out a bulge there.
“Do you know what a man looks like?” he asked.
She nodded. “I’ve seen statues.”
“Don’t be frightened.”
A shake of her head. “I won’t be.”
Slowly, he unfastened his trousers, taking his time as though to taunt her. Her mother, of course, had told her nothing at all regarding what passed between a man and woman. That conversation wouldn’t take place until the night before she was to wed, as though having no knowledge would prevent her from doing what ladies were not to do. But she’d caught the hounds at it, as well as horses, so she had an idea of how it went.
Shucking off his trousers, he kicked them aside and stood before her magnificent and proud, his manhood stiff and straight. And so frightfully large, larger than she’d expected it to be. “Aren’t you supposed to put that in me?”
“Yes.”
She lifted her gaze to his. “It won’t fit.”
His grin was endearing, filled with warmth and humor. “It’ll fit.”
“How do you know if you’ve never done it?”
“Because I’ve spoken with those who have.”
She ran her tongue around her mouth, bit her lower lip. “Can I touch it?”
“Not yet. I’m close to bursting.” He jerked his head toward her. “Off with your nightdress.”
Suddenly, she was feeling bold. “You’ll have to unbutton it.”
It delighted her to no end to see that his fingers were shaking as they neared the placket. His hands dwarfed the buttons as he moved from one to the other, his eyes focused on his task, on the cloth that was parting to reveal her skin. When he was finished, she stood up on the bed, reigning over him. Reaching down, she gathered up her hem and brought it up over her knees, her hips, her waist, her breasts, her head, and flung it aside.
“Christ, Vivi,” he rasped. She watched the muscles at his throat work as he swallowed. “You’re perfection.”
She dropped back to her knees, lowered herself to the mattress and pillows, and held out her arms. “Come to me.”
The bed dipped with his weight as he stretched out beside her. Reaching across her, he took her left arm and carried it to his mouth, where he pressed a kiss against the ragged scar on the inside of her wrist. “Without this, I’d have never met you.”
He shifted his eyes up to hers, released his hold on her arm, and cupped her face. “And I’m ever so glad I did.”
Then, as though whatever tether had been holding him back broke, he moved up, covering half her body with his, slipping his knee between her thighs, keeping his weight off her by levering himself on his elbows. He bracketed her face between his large hands. “I love you, Vivi. I’ll always love you.”
The earnest proclamation humbled her as he claimed her mouth as his own. Claimed all of her, with strokes and caresses.
And she laid claim to him, as though she were an explorer discovering an unchartered land. She tested the firmness of all his muscles, skimming her fingers over them, curving her hands around them. So strong, so magnificent. All of it hers. To feast on with eyes and lips, to appreciate, to touch to her heart’s content.
Cradling her breast, he plumped it up and lowered his mouth to it, dotting kisses over it until he neared her nipple. His velvety tongue circled it, causing it to pucker, then he drew it into his mouth and suckled. His actions so decadent, her reaction so wicked, as pleasure coursed through her and she wanted to cry out for more.
Only she couldn’t cry out. They had to remain quiet, nearly silent as the ecstasy built, as the secretive spot between her legs began to throb, to demand attention. As though he could sense it, he pressed his hand to her core. Heat swarmed over her.
Working her hand between them, she wrapped her fingers around him. He bucked, growled low. He was hot, so hot, velvet over steel.
He shifted until he was resting between her thighs. She felt him poised at her entrance. Taking hold of himself, he rubbed the tip over her, again and again, driving her to madness. He eased into her. She stiffened.
