She inhaled, her cheeks hollowing as she considered, then she looked back at him. “I would like you to kiss me.”
Finally. Finally. Moving slowly, he stepped closer, bridging the distance between them, and slid his good hand into her hair. She didn’t want romance, didn’t want affection, but he couldn’t stop himself from kissing her the way he wanted to. Not as though she was another conquest, all pretty lips and swaying hips, but as though she was Emily Brunton, the lady he had been sharing a life with for the past few days.
Emily Brunton, whose strength made him want to be stronger. And whose weakness made him want to shield her from the world and everything it had done to hurt her.
Being around her made him want to be a better man, and he expressed that the only way he knew how—through his mouth. He kissed her deeply, slowly, urging her to soften under his touch, to let him in, to kiss him back with equal intensity.
And she did. Devastatingly. She razed him to the ground and built him anew. He had been aroused before, but as she gained confidence, flicking her tongue against his and arching her back, she brought him to ruin.
And he welcomed it.
“Your way,” he said. “We do this your way. And if you ever need me to stop or slow down, all you need do is tell me. I might want you, but that doesn’t make me an animal.” He caught her face with his good hand, looking down into her eyes so she would know he was serious. “Understand? I want only what you will enjoy.”
“I want you to enjoy it, too,” she said, reaching down between their bodies to cup his erection.
“That is not a concern.” No, his concern was that he would hold out long enough to give her what she needed.
His concern was that he would not know well enough what she needed, and she would be too proud to tell him. His concern wasthat she would not know whatsheneeded, having never given the consideration any thought.
More than anyone else he had ever been with, it mattered to him that she enjoyed herself.
She drew back, and he watched. They should blow the candle out, he knew, but he would miss the lustrous gleam of her eyes, and the gleam of red in her rampant hair. Though her body was still a mystery to him, he would miss the little he could see.
“This is a first for me,” she said. “Being in control.”
He brought his mouth to the curve of her neck and kissed her there. She quivered under his touch, and he thought he would be half mad before the night was out for certain.
He didn’t think he cared.
“Then explore all you like,” he murmured. “Use me as you will, and promise me you won’t hold back.”
A pause, as though she was weighing up her desires against her sense of what she ought to want. Then, finally, she nodded, exhaling as though in relief. “I promise.”
What power came from control. Emily had never known it before. When she’d been with Marlbury, it had been so very different. He had always taken the lead, and she had followed, not even considering that she could say no. He had never offered the reins to her. Never once implied that her pleasure would come first.
Oliver had not hesitated. He had demanded that sheusehim, and the words had sparked a new fire inside her. She felt almost giddy with the force of her desire, so much greater at the prospect of control than it had been at the prospect of yielding it.
His erection pressed into her lower stomach as she kissed him again, sliding her hand into his hair and tightening her fingers into a fist. He made a muffled groan, that erection throbbing against her, and she felt an answering pang of heat between her legs.
“Where do you want me, Emily?” he murmured against her mouth. “Tell me what you want.”
This time, she didn’t even have to consider it. “Stay still.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She reached up to his cravat, unfolding it and putting it on the bed. Next, she unbuttoned his waistcoat. He helped her shrug it off, but he made no attempt to assist her in taking off his shirt. His damaged arm lay underneath it, in a sling against his body, and she frowned at it.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“If you do, I’ll tell you.”
She sucked in a breath as she looked at him, taking him fully in, without shame, for the first time. He was pale; so much of his body had clearly never been exposed to the sun. Soft, light hair dusted lightly across his chest and down his navel to his breeches, and the bulge there, clearly outlined by the soft fabric.
Yes, she could be certain that he wanted this. Out of curiosity, she pressed a hand against that bulge, pleased by his slight intake of breath. She traced him, exploring. So different from Marlbury, both in length and width; she had not known there could be so much variation.
“You see,” he said, his voice a little more strained now. “You are not hurting me.”
She leaned up to kiss him again, still sliding her fingers up and down his erection. “Be quiet,” she whispered against his mouth. His answering smile pressed into her lips, but he did as she commanded, even as she painstakingly unbuttoned his falls and slid his breeches down his legs.
