He closed the door behind them and locked it while Delilah turned in a wide circle taking it all in. His bedchamber was as unfussy as he was. The space consisted of a large bed in the center with dark blue linens atop it. It was decorated in hues of blue and gray with a paintingof a hunting dog on the wall. Blue-and-white curtains adorned the windows, and two comfortable-looking leather chairs rested in front of the fireplace. It smelled like him too, soap and spice. She closed her eyes and breathed it in.
Thomas lit two candles on either side of the bed, then went to the windows and pulled the curtains closed. The room descended into mostly darkness, and a thrill shot through Delilah’s middle and settled in her core. She’d wanted to do this with him at least since the night at Vauxhall, and perhaps even since their first kiss. She had no trepidation. No confusion. This was exactly how it was meant to be.
He turned back to her and pulled her into his arms.
“I’ve… never done this before,” she murmured. That was her only apprehension. She would die if he was disappointed in her performance.
“Neither have I,” he admitted, kissing her again.
“What?” She pulled back to search his face, not certain he was serious.
“It’s true,” he said with a small laugh.
“Why?” The word flew from her mouth, and she clapped her hand over it. “I’m sorry. Perhaps that’s none of my business.”
“I told you once. I’ve been saving myself for the woman I’m madly in love with.”
Tears rushed to her eyes. “Me?”
He rubbed the underside of her chin with his finger. “Of course you, Delilah. It’s always been you.”
“Then I feel as if we need an instruction manual or something,” she said with a nervous laugh.
“I am confident I can manage without one. For instance, I’m almost certain the first thing we should do is take off our clothes.”
Delilah nodded amiably. “I agree. That sounds right to me. You go first.”
He laughed. “With pleasure.”
She kicked off her slippers and sat on the bed, watching while Thomas sat next to her and removed his boots and stockings. Then he stood in front of her and began unraveling his cravat. She held her breath, mesmerized by the sultry look in his eyes. She swallowed. They were truly going to do this. Make love. Be each other’s first lovers. She’d never wanted anything more.
“You can help if you’d like,” he offered, stepping closer to her so she could touch him.
Delilah tentatively reached up and helped him with the cravat. Once it was free of his neck, he tossed it to the floor. Then he shrugged out of his coat. His waistcoat was next, and she helped him unbutton the thing. Next, he pulled his shirt over his head with two hands. All that was left were his breeches. Delilah helped with those buttons too. Her fingers nimbly opened them while her eyes never left his. When the breeches were completely unbuttoned, she held her breath.
Thomas slid a hand over her mildly disheveled hair. “Why don’t you take off some of your clothes too?”
With a nod, she stood and offered her back so he could undo the buttons on her gown. When they were undone, she turned and pulled it down and over her hips. She stepped out of it, wearing only her stays, stockings, and shift.
“Now your breeches,” she breathed.
Without taking his eyes from hers, Thomas slowly pushed down the fall of his breeches. Delilah watched, entranced, as he lowered the breeches over his hips and to the floor. When he straightened, his manhood jutted out from the patch of hair between his legs.
It was… big. Her married friends had shared with her a bit about what to expect on her wedding night, but seeing the size of him sent a skitter of apprehension through her.
He stepped toward her and she turned and allowed him to undo the laces of her stays, then he pushed the straps of her shift over her shoulders. She shimmied it over her hips, and the loose garment fell away. Fnally, she faced him, naked except for her stockings.
“You’re beautiful, Delilah,” he murmurred, leaning down to press his face against her neck and breathing in the scent of her hair.
“So are you,” she said solemnly.
He scooped her into his arms and laid her on the bed. Then he hovered over her, softly pushing the hair away from her face.
She reached up and plucked pin after pin from her coiffure. She handed him the pins, and he dutifully set them on the bedside table. When she finally leaned up on her wrists and shook out her hair, the dark tresses streamed over her shoulders and breasts and down her back.
“You’re gorgeous. I love you so much,” Thomas said.
“Kiss me,” she breathed. And he did.
