There would be pain. He wanted to do this right, to protect her as much as he could.
Settling himself over her heat, battling a drive as old as time, he kissed her fully, deeply. Then, his mouth close to her ear, he said, “This will hurt. I’m here. I’ll stop at any moment.”
If he could.
Her lips curved into a dreamy smile. “I want you, Michael.I want—”
Anything else she might have said ended on a gasp of shock as he thrust hard and deep. He felt her give, felt the tear. If she’d ordered him to stop, he didn’t know if he could.
She cried out. Her body stiffened. He held her close. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he repeated over and over. A tear rolled down her cheek. He tasted it. Hated himself for hurting her. Hated that his every instinct was to drive into her. Instead, he kept himself in check.
Ever so slowly, she relaxed. Her gaze met his. She appeared uncertain. He dared to move. He could not help himself. She felt so good. So right.
The breath she had been holding released. Her hips curved to cradle him.
Michael tried to keep it slow. But with each thrust, he wanted to go deeper. He could feel the tension building, the need. It goaded him, demanded he find satisfaction, that he release—
The quickening, the tightening in her body almost shattered what little control he had. Hermuscles quivered, and what seemed to be waves of sensation took hold of her, carrying him with them.
Michael could hold himself back no longer. He buried himself in her, feeling the contractions all around him until he all but burst with the joy of his release. It poured out of him, and for the first time, he understood what it meant for two people to become one.
He gathered her in his arms, holding her as if he would never let her go.
Because he wouldn’t. Ever.
And if her feelings weren’t as intense as his? Well, then, he’d love her enough for them both.
***
Dara was thankful Michael’s arms were around her. Otherwise, she feared she would have flown straight through the roof and ascended to the heavens. Or perhaps she was already there.
She had been warned the wedding bed could be painful. Other women talked, other brides back in Wicklow. She’d not been unprepared. Although she hadn’t anticipated how sharp the pain was. It had felt like a knife.
And yet she knew that Michael had been as kind and gentle as he could be. Then, he had shown her the joy of this act between a man and a woman. At last, she fully understood. Thiscloseness, the bond of it, was what life was truly about.
Before she was ready to let go of his body heat, he rose from the bed. He crossed the room without bothering to dress. Dara’s curiosity made her look. His appendage didn’t appear so wondrous now, but the rest of him did. He was a marvel of strong and graceful muscle in the late-afternoon light. He poured water into the basin and carried it over to her along with several linen towels.
Dara was surprised at how comfortable she felt with their nakedness. She rather liked it.
However, when he dipped the cloth in water, wrung it out, and started to reach for that intimate part of her, she balked.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking care of you,” he said calmly. He held up the cloth. “Do you trust me?”
“Such a question after what we’ve just done.”
Laughter lit his gray eyes. “True. And now, I’m going to do something more intimate.”
She didn’t understand what that could be until he began washing her. Cleaning her as if she was a babe, or an object of great value. The wet cloth felt good against her overheated skin and the stickiness of blood and him.
When he returned to bed, he took her in his arms. The day’s fading sun burnished the room with gold. He fitted his body against hers, letting her head rest on his shoulder.
She reached for his hand. An ungloved hand. Finally. At last. Never again would they have gloves between them. Or anything else.
“That was very good,” Dara whispered.
He smiled. “Only very good?”
