A fierce pride fell over her. This was her lover. He desiredher. Gwendolyn was not one for missish airs. She yearned for his touch, his heat.
She reached for his hand and drew him down to the bed alongside her. The candle cast their bodies in a thin golden light. She settled against him in the crook of his arm. His hand with its long, tapered, masculine fingers smoothed over her belly.
Her hand ran over his hip, and she marveled how where she was soft, he was hard. It was the way the world was meant to be.
He kissed her neck, whispered in her ear, telling her she was lovely, she was priceless. She couldn’t speak. She was too overwhelmed with happiness, too lost in his touch.
Gwendolyn turned into his shoulder, inhaling the spiciness of his soap, the horses, the water, and the rain. He threaded his fingers through her hair and then rolled her on top of him.
She had imagined that for this “act” between a man and a woman, it would be just rote and done in a blink. She’d grown up in the country. She’d not been sheltered... but what was happening between her and Beckett was something beyond the limited scope of her understanding. This wasn’t just mating. They were lovers.
She liked being this free with him. She sat up, her legs bent to cradle his hips. His arousal, his desire for her, was not hidden. She leaned to nuzzle his neck and kissed the rough texture of his chin. She wanted to be closer to him. She wantedall of him. His sex surprised her. It was hard and demanding and yet as feathery soft as the finest velvet. Her body wanted to move against him—
He caught her hands and rolled again, this time placing himself over her. They were notched together, her legs opening to accommodate him.
Their kisses grew slower and sweeter... and deeper. He braced himself as if saving her from his full weight. He didn’t understand. She adored having his warm, naked skin against hers.
He nipped her earlobe. She laughed and did the same to him. Their movements took on more heat. He made her almost weep with wanting.
His hands lifted her hips. She liked feeling him cup her buttocks. She pressed a kiss on his shoulder, on the scar, on his chest—
Beckett entered her.
She felt him slide inside. Her body stretched to take him, but it was not uncomfortable. If anything, she reveled in being this close to him. It was what she’d wanted without being aware of the next step—
And then he thrust deep, even as his mouth covered hers.
A cry caught in the back of Gwendolyn’s throat at the sharp pain in her deepest recesses. She hadn’t expected it. Everything had been lovely until he did this. She would have bolted from under him if he had not held her.
He ended the kiss, sucking lightly on her bottom lip. He found her ear. “Easy, Gwendolyn. Easy. That was the worst,” he promised. He held himself still.
The worst. Was it every time? Moments agoshe’d been wrapped in the joy of sensation, until this. It soured her. Although slowly the pain subsided. Gwendolyn felt wetness. Her whole being centered on where they were joined. Beckett began to move slowly, carefully. He whispered soothing words. He told her he was sorry she was hurt. He promised that the hurt would never happen again, and there would only be pleasure.
The strangeness of having him inside her began to ebb, as did the pain.
His movements became more directed. The thrusts deeper.
Raw sensation took hold of her. She found herself moving to meet him. She seemed to search for something she didn’t understand and yet needed.
He lifted himself higher above her. He seemed lost in her, as if he had a need only she could fulfill.
And she liked that very much.
Heat built between them.
Beckett kissed her neck, her shoulders. He moved harder, faster. His breathing grew as labored as her own, because Gwendolyn was no passive partner. She wanted to be bonded to him forever—
A sensation so piercing, so intense, swept her up. It spiraled inside her, higher and higher until an instant so perfect turned her senses inside out, even as the joy of wonder burst through her. Now she understood.
“Beckett.”His name was both benediction and praise. She clasped him hard to her and wouldhave held on—but then he rolled abruptly off of her with a guttural response.
His defection confused her. She wanted to follow him, and then she felt his seed, the life force, against her thigh. He had released his seed, but not in her.
And she felt robbed.
Cold air caused her skin to prickle. “Beckett?”
“A moment.” He sat up, his back to her. He stayed there, breathing heavily.
