She undid them one by one, then slowly, almost cautiously pulled them down, the cotton fabric dragging across the sensitive tip of his erection. He arched his back, then waited, eyes closed, fists clenched, waiting for her to touch him.
Nothing.
He opened his eyes and looked. She was looking at him, examining his manhood curiously, more like a virgin than a married woman and a mother.
“Well, go on, you’ve seen one of these before,” he grated.
“I haven’t actually,” she said. “Not on an adult, anyway. Rupert never removed his nightshirt. Not for me.” Her face dimmed fractionally as she said that, but he was too far gone to hold a conversation.
“I felt it, of course, but never with my hands. Would you mind—”
“No. Go ahead.” He didn’t want to hear about Rupert.
She touched him, tentatively at first, just stroking the length of him lightly with her fingertip. He felt the shock clear through to the soles of his feet. Then she wrapped her palm around him and squeezed gently. He almost exploded.
And that was as much as he could take of letting her take the initiative. He seized her around the waist and in two seconds he had that silk thing off her and her spread out, naked, beneath him.
“I…can’t…wait!” he managed to say, slipping his fingers between her cleft as he spoke. She was hot and slick and ready for him and he entered her blindly, surging into her without finesse.
Her sheath was tight, tighter than he’d expected. Dimly he was aware of her clinging to him, moving against him, but he was beyond all control, his body driven by the primitive beast deep within him as he thrust with blind, possessive compulsion: his woman, his wife. Once, twice, and then he shattered.
He wasn’t sure how long it was before he came to himself again, but with the return of consciousness came guilt and self-recrimination. The more he thought about it the more mortified he was.
The plan had been to seduce her, entice her; to drive her wild with desire.
And what had he said earlier about never pouncing? Of being more sophisticated than that? He groaned.
He’d done worse than pounce on her. He hadn’t even laid a finger on her until he’d parted her, and then he hadn’t waited for any sign from her other than that she was wet. He’d ridden her blindly, selfishly to his own climax, oblivious of anything except his own need.
The best he could hope for was that she’d be furious. The worst, that she’d hate him.
He opened his eyes to find her watching him. “I’m sorry,” he said.
She didn’t reply. He couldn’t read her expression because her eyes were in shadow. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I don’t know what to say. I haven’t—I’ve never—not since I was a young man—”
Callie was still too stunned by what had happened to speak. She’d put her nightgown back on after he’d finished. Now she pulled the covers up over her. It was getting a little chilly.
So, now she knew what it was like to lie with Gabriel Renfrew. She wasn’t quite sure what she thought about it, but she knew she’d never forget it. She still felt restless and hollow and a bit cross, but also, deep within her, she was amazed.
To be desired so powerfully that a man like Gabriel, who prided himself on his self-control, had lost all sense of himself. She’d barely touched him and he’d exploded. It was amazing.
It made her feel…powerful. Not particularly satisfied, but powerful.
She, Callie, had done that to him, had caused this strong, disciplined man to fall on her with ravenous desire. He was still staring intensely at her now.
“I will make it up to you,” he said, reaching for her.
She recoiled slightly. “But it’s done. The marriage has been consummated.”
“It hasn’t,” he insisted. “You didn’t—you weren’tconsumed. I was too quick. I didn’t make it good for you.” He reached for her.
She fended him off. “You want to do itagain? Now?”
“Yes. It will be better, I promise you.”
“No. It’s late. I’m tired.” She lay down with the bedclothes pulled tight around her. She wanted to believe him. She needed to protect herself. She didn’t want to relive that sensation of being taken partway up a mountain and then dumped, not twice in one night.
“Trust me. This time will be for you, I promise.” He pulled the covers back.
