But right now he wasn’t even sure he’d be able to last long in the most basic and conventional position. He couldn’t imagine taking her from behind, having her on top of him, or having her mouth on him while he had his tongue…
Ah hell, not the thing to think about right now. Later. But maybe that wasn’t a good idea. The lass was driving him mad with lust as it was—heaven knew the kind of havoc she could wreak if she learned of the intimate power she could wield over him.
He might never want to leave her bed.
He frowned at the thought, but it fell away the moment he looked down at her. His chest tightened again. She was so beautiful like this. Warm and soft and achingly ready for him, her cheeks still flushed and her eyes still half-lidded from her release. He didn’t think he’d ever seen anything more beautiful.
Unable to hold back another minute, he nudged the head of his cock against the slick folds of her opening and groaned.
God, that felt good. He couldn’t wait to be inside her.
Her eyes flew open at contact. Reading the maidenly shock and sudden uncertainty in her big blue eyes, he knew she needed reassurance. “It will be all right,mo ghrá. I will make it good for you—trust me.”
But as soon as he uttered the words, he felt a powerful urge to take them back.Couldhe make it good for her? He’d never had a problem before, but Izzie was different.
Different.The word resonated, but he didn’t want to listen. It was that she was a virgin—that was all—and from everything he’d heard, it was painful for women the first time. His first time he’d thought he’d died and gone to heaven.
But what if she didn’t feel the same? He wanted her to feel the same. It was imperative that she felt the same. Shehadto feel the same, damn it.
Suddenly the size of the erection in his hand that always elicited widened eyes and gasps of excited surprise from his experienced bed-partners felt like a detriment. Was he too big? Would he hurt her more than necessary? For the first time in his life, Randolph wished he was more modestly proportioned. For a man who didn’t have a modest bone in his body, it was a jarring thought.
Bloody hell, this was not the time for self-doubt. The fact that he had it was bad enough. He was experienced. He’d done practically everything (everything that interested him anyway). But it only grew worse when she nodded, her lovely heavily lashed eyes wide with trust. Randolph gritted his teeth, vowing to do whatever it took to deserve that trust.
Even if it killed him.
Slowly, with a gentle little circle of his hips, he started to push inside. Instinctively, she tightened, her body fighting the intrusion, while at the same time, the soft dampness of her body tempted him to go deeper and faster—God, it tempted—but he forced himself to go slow.
He was rewarded when he felt her relax, and the muscles fighting him start to open. His arms were taut as he held himself rigidly over her. Actually most of the muscles in his body were taut as he fought to contain the desire—the need—to thrust.
Blood pumped through his veins, and his heart pounded in his ears with the primitive urge to sink in deep and hard. To end the torture.
But he held tight. His teeth clenched and his body slickening with heat as he concentrated all his effort on making her feel good. Because God knew he felt bloody incredible.
She must be feeling pretty good, too, because with each little stroke, her cheeks were turning a little more pink and her gasps were getting a little louder—and more insistent.
She was so tight… gripping him… Sweat from the effort to hold back started to bead on his forehead.
There was only so much gentling he could do before reaching the point of no return, the final nudge that would breach the divide between maid and woman.Hiswoman.
She seemed to know it was time, too. Her gaze locked on his, looking for something. Assurance? Answers? Meaning? Promises?
He was surprised at that moment how much he wanted to give them to her. But as always with her, he couldn’t find the words—even when he might want them.
Instead, he shifted his weight to one arm to bring her hand to his mouth. His chest filled with a strange heat. A warmth. A feeling of contentment that seemed to brim over.
She seemed just as surprised as he by the courtly gesture in the midst of what otherwise might seem illicit. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said softly, “but it will—for a moment.”
At least he hoped it was only a moment.
She nodded, although clearly from the twinge of trepidation that crossed her face, she didn’t fully believe him.
Perhaps his honor had not completely deserted him. Somehow he found the strength to ask, “Are you sure?”
“I have never been more sure of anything in my life. Show me. Please, show me.”
The soft plea was uttered with such urgency, Randolph could only answer with a groan of relief and a final thrust of possession.
Isabel Stewart had given herself to him, and he would never give her back.
