Trevor placed his hands on either side of her face and gently pulled back from the kiss, his mind in complete turmoil. She leaned forward, pressing every part of her scantily clad body against his. His arms encircled her and she settled herself beneath his chin, burrowing closer. Then Meredith lifted her lips and pressed them gently to the pulse that beat rapidly at the base of his throat.
It was a gesture of trust and caring that rocked the marquess to the core of his being. His heart swelled with a deep, painful yearning he had previously associated exclusively with his relationship with Lavinia.
The urge to protect and cherish grew strong, and he nearly laughed out loud of the absurdity of his predicament. For the one he needed to protect this delicate creature from was himself.
He had bedded many women in the past eight years, more than he could count. More than he could remember. At first he had been mistaken in believing that his passion for Meredith was yet another of his typical reactions to a woman of such beauty, charm, and spirit.
Now he knew better. He knew he was not prepared to be the type of husband she would demand. She had told him that before when she refused his proposal of marriage, but he had not heeded her warning.
She would not allow herself to be ignored, though in the end it would be best for both of them. Was it fair or honorable to allow himself to feel only desire for her? Would that not make an already difficult situation nearly intolerable?
Trevor lowered his chin until it rested on the top of her head and sighed. He felt a surge of guilt as his conscience warred with his sexual desire. Before entering her bedchamber tonight, he had resolutely put his attraction to his wife aside. That resolve had already been sorely tested when she looked at him with such open longing. And yet he had managed to control his urges, had managed to refrain from unleashing the pent-up passion that was tormenting him. Thus far.
“Is anything wrong, my lord?”
Her caring tone made him feel vulnerable, an emotion he despised.
“Lie back on the bed, Meredith.”
He felt her hesitation, her reluctance to leave the warmth of his arms, but she obeyed him without comment. Her breasts rose and fell with her harsh breaths, whether from excitement or fear he could not be certain.
He closed his eyes briefly and fought for mastery over himself, pushing aside all the wild, erotic things he wanted to do with her. He almost wished she was lying stiffly, fists clenched and eyes pinned to the ceiling, awaiting her fate with the martyred indignity of an aristocratic princess.
Then he could lift the hem of her nightgown, move her thighs apart, and couple with her, swiftly and fiercely.
But she was neither stoic nor shy, his exquisite bride. And she seemed incapable of keeping still. Her questing fingers searched through his chest hair and found his nipples. Using the flat of her fingertips, she gently circled the outer rim, then pulled on the puckering buds.
“Our bodies are not completely so different, are they?” she said in wonderment.
“You had best wait a few moments before making such rash statements,” he replied.
Trevor lowered his head and nuzzled her neck and jaw. The sheer joy of discovery in her eyes was too much to endure. He felt his cock twitch, then harden further as she slid her hands along the side of his hips and down his thighs.
He knew he should discourage her, but her touch felt so good, so right upon his burning flesh. Ever bold, she closed her wandering fingers around the base of his stiff erection and squeezed experimentally.
Hot waves of hunger poured through his body. “You must remember, I am rather nervous,” he said hoarsely, as he reached down and pulled her hand away. “And shy of you.”
“Shy?” Meredith laughed, throwing back her head and exposing the column of her long neck. “You do not feel shy, my lord.”
He smiled, despite his determination not to enjoy himself. Her innocence and enthusiasm were beguiling. He dipped his mouth to her breasts, kissing her erect nipples through the silk sheerness of her nightgown. Meredith drew in a sharp breath and arched her back.
Trevor moved his hand down below her waist, found the entrance to her body and circled it lightly with his finger. She made a small sound of pleasure deep in her throat and lifted her hips. The hot wetness at the juncture of her thighs let him know she would be able to accept his length with a minimum amount of pain.
He gathered her close, shutting himself off to all emotions except the relentless drive of his passion. Somehow her nightgown had become tangled around her waist. There were no impediments as Trevor opened her legs with the thrust of his knee and placed himself between them.
He entered her partway, then drove forward slowly. Meredith struggled, her legs shifting restlessly around him. He paused.
“Does that hurt?”
“It burns, stings.” She bit her lower lip, then tossed her head back and forth on the pillow. “Don’t stop. Full. I feel so full and stretched.”
He rocked his hips forward and she whimpered. “Better?” he asked.
“Hmmm.” Her face and neck were flushed, her eyes wild and wanton. He adjusted their bodies, trying to keep his strokes slow and shallow, but soon found himself pressing against the resistance of her maidenhead.
“Try not to tense your muscles,” he whispered. He held her hips steady in his hands and thrust forward, piercing the membrane, penetrating her completely in one deep stroke.
She cried out again, a mixture of shock and wonder. He expected her to stiffen and lie still or try to pull away from him. Instead she lifted herself up so she could press tender kisses to his cheek and jaw and throat.
