His mouth tightened. The little vixen! She didn’t have a shy bone in her passionate little body. He was about to refuse when she said, “Unless you find it difficult to perform in the dark.”
He nearly choked. Him have difficulty performing? God, didn’t she see the size of his erection? But he clenched his jaw, hearing her challenge. Without a word, he stalked over to the candelabra on the sideboard and blew them out. The lamp at the bedside table as well.
The room went dark for a moment, but when his eyes adjusted, he realized there was still a soft glow of light coming from the coal in the fireplace.
More than enough for what he intended. His eyes fixed on the woman in his bed. He gave her a predatory smile. “If you don’t have any more directions, what’s say we begin?”
Mary knew she’d made a mistake. Somehow he’d guessed what she was about. Worse, he’d taken it as a challenge and turned it into some kind of contest.
Her heart pounded erratically as she heard his footsteps approach the bed. Unfortunately, it wasn’t nearly dark enough, and she could still see far too much of him.
He was incredible. Could a man so fiercely masculine be beautiful? If so, then he was. His body was like a statue. A massive, perfectly chiseled statue. It had been hard to know where to look, from his broad shoulders and thickly muscled arms, to his sculpted chest with band after band of ripped muscle, to his heavy, powerfully built thighs. And then there was that other part of him. The uniquely male part of him she shouldn’t notice but had looked at with far too much and very unmaidenly curiosity. The thick column of flesh with the plump hood that strained past his belly button. Hard and red, she’d ached to touch it. To feel him in her hands.
The bed shifted with his weight when he slid in next to her. For a moment, he simply lay beside her in the darkness. She was so highly aroused, so painfully aware of him, however, that it only increased her anxiousness.
Did he have to be so blasted hot? His body seemed to radiate heat, and her skin felt flushed and uncomfortable—as if it were too small for her body.
He’s naked.
Try not to think about it.
But she couldn’t help it. She kept thinking about how it would feel to have all that hot skin pressed against her.
He was torturing her. And he knew it.
“Still tired, Mary?”
The blighter. “A little,” she said stubbornly, as her body screamed for him to touch her. She squirmed.
“Bed not comfortable?” he asked innocently.
“The bed is fine,” she snapped.
“I just heard you moving around—”
“I wasn’t moving around!”
He rolled to his side and began his infernally slow game of tracing every inch of her with his finger, when she ached—yes, ached—to have the full pressure of his hands. She was more aroused than she’d ever been in her life.
“Any more instructions, Mary? Or are you going to let me proceed?”
Something about him brought out her fight. She wasn’t going to let him run over her. She lifted her chin. “Nothing that I can think of right now, but I will let you know if something comes up.”
“Something has come up, all right,” he mumbled irritably.
Mary smiled, glad to know she wasn’t the only one suffering. “What’s that?” she asked innocently.
His reply was a kiss. A very slow, very expert, very thorough kiss. A kiss that radiated down to her toes. A kiss that made her limbs heavy and her bones dissolve. A kiss that made herwantwith all her heart.
He was seducing her, and if Mary didn’t do something, she knew she’d be lost. She was halfway there already. She had to find a way to take control.
He was on his side, leaning half on her. She could feel the thick imprint of his manhood on her stomach. The image of him holding himself in his hand sprang to mind. The fact that it aligned with her previous thoughts of wanting to touch him made the possibility even more intriguing.
If he’d pleasured himself that way, would he like it if she did the same?
Testing her theory, she moved her hand from his arm to his chest, lightly trailing her fingers down the rigid bands of his stomach muscles.
She knew she was on to something when he stilled, pausing in his kiss, stomach muscles clenching. He hissed when the heel of her hand met the plump tip. “What are you doing?”
