“Gwendoline,” he murmured against her mouth, his voice strained with something she could not name.
She waited for him to continue. He did not. He only pulled back an inch, his breathing uneven.
“I will not touch you,” he rasped. “Not while you are on the verge of starting anew. I will not cloud your choices.”
That stung. It was foolish. It was humiliating. Yet the disappointment settled over her chillingly. She tried to hide it, but he saw everything.
She turned her face away. “Very well.”
Silence stretched. Then, unexpectedly, he suggested, “I can show you how to take your pleasure. Without me.”
What?
His eyes darkened, and her pulse leapt. A heat that had nothing to do with embarrassment slowly unfurled in her belly. She stared at him wide-eyed, uncertain if she had heard him correctly.
“Only if you want it,” he added. “Say no, and I will never speak of it again.”
A tremor rushed through her limbs, not of fear, but of a strange kind of anticipation. She remembered how he had touched her at the hunting lodge. How her body had responded, awakening in ways she had never imagined possible.
The memory alone sent warmth spiraling through her again.
“I…” She swallowed. “Show me.”
His gaze heated, not only with lust, but also with deliberate restraint.
“Lie on your back,” he instructed gently.
She obeyed, sinking against the pillows, her breath uneven. She tried to appear composed, but her limbs trembled.
“Close your eyes,” he murmured. “You are too aware of me.”
She did as he asked.
“Where does the heat begin when you remember when I pleasured you at the lodge?” he asked quietly.
Her face burned. “My chest. My throat. All the way down.”
“Then begin there,” he urged.
Her hand rose, hesitant and trembling, until it rested near her collarbone. She felt foolish and vulnerable, but his voice wrapped around her like a steadying hand.
“Good,” he murmured. “Now, press lightly. Follow the warmth.”
She let her fingertips glide down her sternum, lingering over the lace of her nightgown. Her skin suddenly felt too sensitive, every brush of her fingers igniting a spark.
Heat pooled lower.
“Does that feel pleasant?” Victor asked.
“Yes.” It came out breathless.
Her hand moved again, guided by instinct and his quiet instructions. She felt her body stir. A small sound escaped her before she could hold it in. She pressed her thighs together.
Victor let out a raspy breath. She heard it. It felt like a flame.
“Let yourself follow it,” he said softly. “Do not rush. Take the time you need. Feel your arousal.”
Her fingers traveled lower, over the soft silk of her nightgown, the sensation maddening but intoxicating. She arched slightly without realizing it. His breath was so close that she felt his hot praise on her breasts.
