He’d meant to teach her how to let go of her tension with help from the cigar, but this… method… was proving far more effective.
He slid a hand to her waist and then around and up her ribcage. She gasped when he brushed the soft underside of her breast. Plump, soft, perfect.
A more noticeable tremor ran through her, and he wasn’t sure if it was from passion or fear.
“Bethany?” He released her mouth but didn’t pull away. He waited, resting his forehead against hers.
Her eyes were wide, stormy, and filled with uncertainties.
“Was that your first kiss?”
She dropped her gaze, and when she spoke, he had to hold his breath so he could hear her.
“Aside from our wedding ceremony. Pathetic, I know.”
Two and twenty and she’d never been kissed. It wasn’t pathetic at all. In fact, it was rather precious.
But where did that leave him? Married to an innocent. And to think that when he’d thrown her across his lap, he’d been about to…
A wave of self-loathing struck him, and he thrust the memory aside.
“Your brother is going to want to kill me.”
A reluctant grin tilted up the sides of her mouth. “Seeing as you married me, I think you are safe.” Her breath hitched. “But I could be wrong.”
Chase was beginning to appreciate that his wife had an ironic sense of humor.
“I’d rather not duel my best friend.” He kept his forehead pressed against hers.
He wanted to ask her why she’d never kissed anyone before but sensed a reluctance on her part to discuss it. Why hadn’t he ever pursued her once she’d come-out? She was Westerley’s sister, but that wasn’t the only reason.
She’d changed—the truth dawned in a flash—she’d changed when her father died. It was as though she’d been a butterfly emerging from her cocoon, but then crawled back in after the tragedy occurred.
“I’d rather my brother not duel my husband,” she agreed. She hadn’t moved away from him, but her lips had pinched together again already.
What precisely caused her to tense up again? Referring to him as her husband? He certainly couldn’t have that.
Chase leaned in and captured her mouth a second time. This time, her lips required no coaxing to soften.
He would be her first kiss.
And her second.
And her third.
Urging her mouth open, he slid his tongue between her lips. He couldn’t help feeling satisfied when the tip of hers sparred tentatively with his.
Ah, Bethany.
Cupping the back of her neck, he drew her closer. And again, the little humming sound. How many other intimate traits of hers were there to learn?
It had been a very long time since he’d kissed a woman simply for the purpose of kissing her.
He trailed his lips around her cheek and jaw, leisurely, taking his time. And then back to her mouth. Her fingers had crawled up from his lapels to his neck but seemed to freeze there.
“K-I-S-S-I-N-G.” Chase tapped his fingers against her waist as he counted out the letters against her mouth. “Seven letters.”
She giggled. What was he doing? Trying to garner her trust? In some ways, she was like a frightened or injured animal.
