“You can put me down now.”
“If I put you down, someone will whisk you away,” he muttered. “And I am going to make love to you. In our bed.”
Hetty should have been embarrassed. They were expected in the salon for a game of cards. She clutched the velvet collar of his riding coat and gave herself up to the wonderful sensation of being crushed against his chest, listening to the steady metronome of his heartbeat. What she had yearned for was finally to happen. She wondered if he would do all those things to her, that he spoke of in the hut while the snowstorm whirled around them, which seemed like years ago now.
Guy entered their bedchamber, kicked the door shut, and slowly lowered her to the floor.
“We are finally alone, I can scarcely believe it,” Hetty said as he turned the key in the lock.
They began to undress. It seemed a lifetime ago that she’d had helped him in the hunting lodge. She struggled to equate that man with the one before her; he seemed so changed. She had thought him an arrogant rake back then.
He methodically stripped her down to her chemise, and finding herself naked, she scurried to the bed.
Guy laughed. When the last stitch of his clothing was added to the pile on the chair, he walked over to her completely unconcerned about his nakedness. She clutched the coverlet to her chest and gasped at his beauty. Satiny olive skin stretched over long elegant bones and well-defined muscles. The wound in his side, now a purplish scar, testament to how close he’d come to death. Hetty was stunned into silence.
Guy came to where she sat on the bed. Wordlessly, he removed the coverlet from her fingers. She slid her arms around his waist and pressed her lips to the scar, then cupped his buttocks, strong and smooth beneath her hands.
He pressed her back on the bed. His arms resting on each side of her, erotic excitement sparked in his eyes as he lowered his head. His mouth demanded a response, and as she moaned against his lips, their kisses caught fire. She danced her fingers over the defined planes and soft dark hair of his chest and down, his galloping heart beneath her hand. Then tracing the line of dark hair over the ribbed muscles of his hard stomach to his taut member. Curious, she took it in her hand, testing the length, sensing the strength beneath the soft skin.
Guy lavished attention on her breasts, drawing each nipple to a peak with his tongue as he stroked her feminine folds and the pearl beneath. His teasing fingers drew ripples, then waves, and shudders from her body. Hetty arched against him, moving restlessly, unsure of what she craved, except more.
“Please, Guy, please…,” she murmured, overcome with an urgent desire to be one with him.
*
“Let’s take itslow,mon amour.”
Guy seized control before Hetty’s ministrations to his cock upset both their plans.
She coiled her arms around his neck and pressed her breasts against his chest. Their rapid breaths mingled as their passionate kisses robbed them of breath.
Hetty’s eager responses matched his. He wanted her desperately but intended it to be memorable. The first time for a woman was not always good, he’d been told. Guy scooped her up in his arms and eased her back onto the bed. He planned to take his time, and continued to stroke, finding her moist and ready for him. She moaned and clung to him, pushing her hips up to meet his gently probing fingers. As she gripped his hair none too gently, he trailed kisses across the soft swell of her belly. His fingers tangled in the soft nest of fiery curls and he breathed in the musky smell of her arousal, following his fingers with his tongue.
“Oh, what are you doing?” Hetty gave him a wild look, her face flushed.
“Shush.”
Hetty bucked her hips and moaned. She shook her head, pushed him away, and then pulled him back against her. “Yes, my love,” he urged as she tensed and her thighs shuddered. She came with a long cry which turned into a deep sigh.
Hetty fell back and gazed up at him, her eyes half-closed as she flicked her swollen bottom lip with a pink tongue, looking utterly abandoned.
Guy groaned. It was time. This was too delicious, too exciting, and he’d wanted it too long.
He slipped between her thighs and pressed himself against her entrance, she stilled. Her body was ready for him, rosy and wet. He searched her eyes which gazed at him with love and apprehension. “This may hurt a little.”
She shook her head as if incapable of replying.
With a thrust of his hips, he nudged inside her, met with a resistance, and pushed through. She drew her breath in sharply.
“Shall I go on?”
“Yes,” she said cautiously.
“Am I hurting you?”
She bit her lip. “A little.”
He paused.
