His shirt opened to reveal a strong chest with a light dusting of hair that tapered into a lean waist. As he shrugged the shirt off, corded muscle rippled in his shoulders, and her mouth became dry.
He removed his shoes and then undid his belt so slowly, she wondered if he were teasing her. When he finally dropped them, she admired his strong thighs and that thick shaft she was becoming more familiar with each day.
As she’d felt earlier, he was already hard, and he climbed over her and notched the head at her entrance.
“Draw in a deep breath and then let it out slowly, releasing the tension in all of your muscles as you do.”
She inhaled until her lungs could hold no more and then exhaled, focusing on softening everything within herself until she was completely languid.
He pushed forward, breaching her, and she reminded herself to stay open and yielding. He’d already warned her that the more she tensed against the invasion, the more it might hurt.
As it was, there was a slight discomfort, but no more than his fingers had caused earlier. Her body—realizing it was familiar with this sensation—relaxed further, and he inched deeper until he was seated fully within her.
The cords of his throat stood out, but his expression was gentle as he lowered his head to kiss her.
“All right, love?”
“Yes.”
He withdrew in a smooth, silken movement, and pushed back in again, filling her in that strange way that became more pleasant as he repeated the motion.
He distracted her with kisses, first on her mouth, and then he peppered them over her face and neck. Sheundulated against him, seeking more and more as her body recognized him and welcomed him in.
“I love the way you feel,” he murmured, his lips brushing hers. “Is it good for you?”
“So good.”
Those were the only words she was capable of forming.
They moved together, becoming one, their pleasure intertwining and building until they crested together.
Sophie cried out, rippling and shuddering as waves of pleasure rolled through her, and he answered her with a long, drawn-out groan, his shaft pulsing rhythmically.
As she became more aware of herself and the world around her, she realized she was breathing heavily and intentionally slowed it, filling her lungs more deliberately instead.
Nicholas pulled out of her, leaving her strangely empty, and rolled onto his side, where he gazed at her with something that could be wonderment.
Warmth blossomed in her chest.
A proclamation of love danced on the tip of her tongue, but she kept it to herself. She’d wait until she was sure he was ready to reciprocate. After all, there was no rush now. They were married.
“I’d like to do that often,” she said, knowing her cheeks were beetroot red even as she refused to drop her eyes from his.
His face lit up even more, the familiar twinkle in those eyes. “Your wish is my command, my wife.”
She giggled.Wife. She was hiswife.
She liked that.
He laid his arm over her, and she scooted closer, resting her head on his chest and listening to the beat of his heart as it returned to normal.
He kissed her forehead. “I hope it didn’t hurt. I’ve never deflowered an innocent before.”
She snorted. “Deflowered?”
“I believe that’s what they call it.” He sounded amused. “What would you rather I say?”
“Nothing at all,” she assured him. “At least, not where that is concerned.”
