“Yes.” His voice was a hoarse whisper.
“I-I have never undressed a man. Will you help me?” Her voice was small and nervous.
“We don’t have to go any further, Iris.” He made himself say it, when inside his body was bracing for her touch. “I have no wish to scare you.”
The truth was, they were both innocent. Neither of them had felt the touch of a person who cared. Someone who would want to offer pleasure.
“Let me touch you, please, Theo. I want to try. Take off your shirt,” she said.
Iris looked up his body until their eyes met. Monty no longer saw fear, but there were nerves, as there were for him. He’d been with women plenty of times but always in the dark, and when it was done, he left without a word.
This was different. This was Iris, and he believed that what happened between them now would change him in many ways.
“Please, Theo.”
His fingers were clumsy as he removed his necktie, and he helped her tug his shirt free of his trousers. She pushed the material up, and he pulled it over his head.
“Iris,” he said for no other reason than he didn’t know what to say or do, and then she touched him. Monty could do nothing to swallow down the low moan as she laid her hands on his chest.
“So warm,” he whispered.
Iris ran her hands slowly down his chest. It was exquisite, leaving a trail of heat wherever they touched.
“Christ, Iris.”
“I know,” she whispered. “It is wonderful to feel you, Theo. I have never touched another like this. You have a lovely chest.”
His laugh sounded strangled.
“I want to touch you too,” he got out.
She seemed to think about that as her hands ran up and down his chest creating waves of pleasure. Is this what the Devilles had with their women? It was a wonder they ever left their beds.
She dropped her hands to her sides and turned her back on him.
“I-I need you to help me.”
Monty’s mouth went dry as he looked at the small buttons running down her spine. He’d been unbuttoning items of clothing for years, yet in that moment, his fingers turned into thumbs.
“They are small—”
“I have it,” he said, doubting his ability to have anything. His eyes were drawn to the small pale patch of skin above the back of her dress. Monty pressed his lips there, and she shivered.
When he’d released the last button, he pushed the dress from her shoulders. It bunched at her waist and then fell to the floor with his clothes. She didn’t turn, leaving him a view of her chemise. Soft, white material that did nothing to hide the vulnerable line of her vertebrae and the round swells of her buttocks.
Monty removed the pins from her hair, and the heavy locks tumbled down to her spine. Fisting his hands in the curls, he buried his nose in the satin and inhaled.
“You smell so good.”
“Honeysuckle.”
“Can I touch you, Iris?”
She nodded.
Monty stroked her shoulders with both hands. One he let travel down her arm until he could take her fingers in his. They gripped him, anchoring them to each other.
His other hand then roamed her body. Running along the band of the chemise’s neckline and lower. Feeling her through the fabric. She trembled as he soothed her.
