“Both, I imagine,” he said, his voice threading through her with quiet reassurance. “But you are not alone. I am just as undone.”
She gave a faint huff of laughter that caught on a sigh as his hand smoothed back up her leg, fingers curling around the gentle swell of her knee. “You seem remarkably steady to me,” she whispered, though she was certain he must feel the way her breath stuttered with every touch.
He lifted her hand in his, pressing it to his chest where his heart beat a fierce rhythm. “Tell me again how steady I am. I make no pretense of innocence or virtue, Jillian… nothing could have prepared me for this. For you. Not even years of anticipation.”
The confession startled her. Her breath snagged as she blinked up at him, trying to reconcile the idea of Miles—controlled, self-contained, unobtainable Miles—wrestling with years of wanting her. “Years?” she asked, the word barely more than a breath. “You have not liked me for years.”
His gaze darkened, not with offense but with a more penetrating seriousness. “No,” he said quietly. “I have not liked you for years. But I have been aware of you. Noting yourpresence and absence, your pleasure and displeasure at every turn for as long as we have been acquainted.”
Her breath caught in her throat as the truth of his meaning sank in. All her carefully cultivated assumptions—that he disapproved of her intellect, that he resented her sharp tongue, that he found her irritating—collapsed under the weight of that single statement. The shock of it trembled through her even as he bent to kiss her again, and this time she met him with less hesitation and more need.
Her lips parted beneath his, opening to the slow slide of his tongue with growing confidence. His taste, familiar and somehow startling all at once, deepened the warmth that pooled low in her belly. She curled her hands around his shoulders, pulling him closer, answering the stroke of his tongue with tentative boldness. His low sound of approval vibrated against her mouth, sending a ripple of heat down her spine.
His hand continued its exploration beneath her shift, moving with patient intention but each stroke growing bolder. He followed the shape of her thigh, pausing when she tensed, easing forward only when she relaxed. The respect implicit in that slow advance unraveled something within her more effectively than haste ever could. For all the urgency simmering beneath his skin, he kept the pace deliberate, determined that she should accept each new sensation willingly, not simply endure it.
“Tell me… if it pleases you. If. It does not,” he murmured, his lips brushing hers as he spoke. “If it is too much, I will stop.”
“I feel as if my bones have melted,” she managed, her voice tremulous but honest. “And as if I might float away, except that you are holding me down.”
“Good,” he whispered. “I intend to keep you exactly where you are.”
He kissed his way down to the neckline of her shift, tracing its edge with his mouth. The warmth of his breath against thesensitive skin of her chest drew a startled gasp from her, and her back arched instinctively. One of his hands slid up to cradle her breast through the linen, his thumb sweeping gently over the peak beneath. The sensation, shocking and exquisite, drew a soft cry from her throat, and he lifted his head at once, searching her face.
“Too much?” he asked.
“No,” she whispered, shaking her head slightly, though the heat flooding her cheeks betrayed her inexperience. “Just… surprising.”
He smiled then, wicked and tender at once. “That,” he murmured, lowering his head again, “is only the beginning.”
He suckled her lightly through the linen, heat and damp seeping through the thin fabric as he tasted her. Her hand flew to his shoulder as her breath caught. The sensation, unfamiliar but undeniably pleasurable, sent warm pulses through her that gathered and deepened each time his tongue circled the sensitive skin beneath the cloth. When at last he drew the neckline of her shift down with careful fingers and closed his mouth over her bare breast, she cried out softly and clutched at him.
His mouth moved slowly from one breast to the other, lavishing attention on each until the pleasure blurred into a kind of breathless ache. She felt herself moving beneath him, lifting her hips in helpless response, seeking more without knowing exactly what she sought. He groaned softly at the motion, lifting his head to kiss her again with renewed hunger.
“You feel it now,” he said, his voice rough. “Do you not?”
“Yes,” she breathed. “I do.”
“And it does not frighten you?”
“It does,” she admitted, “but I do not want you to stop.”
He shuddered, restraint fraying visibly at the edges. “Then I will not.”
He tugged her shift over her head with her help, leaving her bare beneath his gaze. The vulnerable shock of nakedness washed over her, but he caught both her hands before she could retreat, pressing a kiss to each one. “Do not hide from me,” he said, his voice unsteady with reverence. “Such perfection should never be concealed.”
He undressed quickly then, shedding coat, shirt, and trousers until he stood before her in all his hard, taut lines and simmering desire. The sight of him made her swallow hard, but the raw emotion in his eyes made her lift her chin. He came to her then, drawing her body gently beneath his, aligning them carefully as he eased her thighs apart with one hand, settling between them.
“I have it on rather good authority that it may not be… entirely pleasant. There is always some pain for a woman. Only at first,” he murmured against her temple. “I wish I could spare you that. I will go slowly.”
She nodded, though nerves fluttered wildly in her belly. “I trust you.”
He kissed her softly, deeply, then positioned himself at her entrance. The first press of him into her stole her breath. He eased forward with exquisite caution, pausing when she tensed, whispering words of reassurance as she adjusted. The brief sting brought tears to her eyes, but he held her face gently in both hands until it eased.
“Breathe,” he whispered. “You are doing perfectly.”
She breathed. She relaxed. And inch by inch, he filled her until she gasped at the overwhelming fullness. Her hands gripped his shoulders, fingers trembling, but the pain ebbed quickly, replaced by a heavy, throbbing warmth.
“Are you ready for me to move?” he asked, forehead against hers.
