“Oh,” she breathed as her gaze dropped. He wanted to touch her, was damn near desperate to, but he had promised himself that a gentleman was expected to behave a certain way and he had not climbed the ranks of the British army by doing otherwise.
It was becoming a familiar stalemate between them. A close encounter, a touch here or there. Rhys would ask her what she wished for, but every time Louisa wouldn’t be able to even bring herself to formulate the words that—
“Ask me what I wish, Rhys,” she said suddenly, her eyes downcast. “Please.”
All of Rhys’s sensibility flew out the room as he watched his little wife painstakingly rush through her words.
“Louisa,” he said softly. “What do you wish?”
“I wish that you’d kiss me,” she whispered so softly that he barely heard her. “Please.”
He had told her that he wouldn’t touch her unless she asked him to do so, and blessedly the moment had finally arrived. Without hesitating, Rhys stepped forward and slowly raised his hand, his fingers trailing along the edge of her jaw. Her eyelids lowered as she pressed her cheek into his palm, causing Rhys to exhale.
“Do you know about pleasure?”
Louisa’s cheeks burned brightly. She nodded once, unable to speak and a perverse desire to tease her coursed through him.
“Is that so,” he said lowly, his mouth drifting to her ear. “I wonder what you know of it.”
“Rhys…”
His fingers snaked down the column of her neck to her clavicle before drifting the tops of her breasts.
“Tell me, Louisa.”
She shook her head, trembling.
“I-I can’t.”
He bet she couldn’t. He was being a right bastard, but there was something sinful about making her confess things she’d never told anyone. Hell, she had never even spoken the words aloud.
But he was desperate to hear it.
His large hands dropped to her waist and firmly settled on her hips. His mind was racing, trying to compare this experience to that of the dozens he had had before, but all those women had been experienced in lovemaking and unashamed of their wants and desires. Louisa, on the other hand was terrified, and untamed man that he was, he was hardened by the idea of her stepping out of the fear and into pleasure with him.
His fingers dug in slightly, pulling her against him. She gasped at the thickness she felt against her belly.
“Tell me how you know about pleasure, Louisa.”
A shaky breath drew from her lips.
“I… I…” She exhaled, struggling to find the words. “Please, Rhys, don’t make me say it.”
My God, was he so close to spilling his seed when they weren’t even undressed yet? Her sweet plea to remain on the outside of their lovemaking was a valiant effort, but he would leave no part of her unturned. He was desperate for her, to know everything that pleased her.
Turning his head, he kissed her deeply, as her arms wrapped around his neck. She pressed into him, arching her back as she tried to melt into him, her one small hand falling to his chest, and then lower. He moaned into her mouth as the tables turned. He was suddenly at her disposal as she palmed the front of his buckskins.
“Louisa,” he murmured into her mouth between kisses. “My God.”
Suddenly, her arms tightened around his neck, and she pulled him close, her mouth on his ear.
“At night, sometimes, when everyone’s asleep, I… I have the worst sort of yearning,” she whispered, her words practically wrapping around his member and pumping up and down themselves. “Like an itch that cannot be reached, but so much worse.” She exhaled. “Have you ever felt like that?”
He wanted to say something, but his throat constricted. He nodded his encouragement.
“It was an accident, the first time. I genuinely thought it might be an itch. But then… Oh Rhys, please, just touch me.”
He shook his head, barely able to compose himself.
