He didn’t rush.
She felt each one, a tiny loosening, a gradual surrender.With every bit the gown gave, more of her skin met the air, and more of her reason fled.
His knuckles brushed her bare back.She shivered.He bent, pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss between her shoulder blades.Her knees nearly gave out.
Nicholas didn’t undress her all at once.No, he took his time, kneeling beside the bed and sliding off one glove, then the other, with slow precision.“I want to unwrap you like a forbidden gift,” he murmured, “and savor every part of you.”
He slid a hand under her skirts again, not to tease this time, but to remove them.His fingers worked at the ties, the fabric falling away piece by piece.The buttons at the back of her gown.Her stays.Her shift.Her stockings.His hands reverent, his mouth trailing kisses along her ribs, the underside of her breasts, her belly.
“You’re exquisite,” he whispered, brushing his lips over the curve of her hip.“A goddess hiding in plain sight.”
She made a helpless noise and reached back to clutch at the bedpost for balance.At last, the gown slid from her shoulders and pooled around her feet in a whisper of silk.She stepped out of it, feeling more exposed than she ever had in her life, even though her chemise and stays still covered her.
“Turn around,” he said softly.
She did.
The way he looked at her then unraveled the last of her composure.No mockery.No smugness.Just heat and awe and a tenderness she had not been prepared for.
“Bea,” he whispered.
She turned, crossed the last step between them and kissed him, and the rest blurred, the tug of laces, the rustle of linen, the shock of his skin against hers, the way he groaned when she pressed herself full-length along the hard lines of his body.
She didn’t know exactly how they reached the bed.Only that his hands were on her, reverent and greedy; that his mouth traced a path down her throat, across her shoulders; that his breath grew ragged as he whispered her name.
Nicholas hadher back pressed to the mattress in mere seconds.His jaw was at her neck, and she shuddered as he whispered in her ear, “Shall I touch you?”
Her answer was a glare, but her chin tipped up…defiant, aroused, glorious.
He took it as permission.
His fingers on her thighs slowly moved toward her center, and she gasped.
“I only need one word from you,” he rasped, the rough skin of his jaw sliding against her soft neck.
The only sound was her panting.
“Say yes, Bea.And I’ll give you pleasure you’ve never known.”
“Yes,” came the one word, unmistakable.
Nicholas let his finger find her then.Slide to the spot she most needed him.This woman was far too fiery and proud and beautiful to have never been given an orgasm until recently.She deserved another one.Immediately.
The moment his finger found the soft little nub of flesh, her head fell back to mattress, and she whimpered.His finger found the aching nub nestled in her folds and stroked…softly at first, featherlight, the barest brush of sensation that made her eyes flutter closed and her mouth part on a sigh.
Her panting increased, her gorgeous breasts rising and falling.He moved his head down to suck one succulent nipple into his mouth.But first, he was going to watch her face as she came on his finger.With nothing more than his touch guiding her to ecstasy.
He increased the tempo, watching as pleasure-pain streaked across her perfect features.Her brow knitted.She bit her lip.
“Do you like that?”he growled in her ear.“You want more, don’t you?”
All she could do was whimper in response.And when her hand moved down to grab his arm, at first, Nicholas worried she would push him away.But her hand clamped over his wrist.By God, she was holding him to her, making sure hedidn’tstop.
She gasped again—part moan, part breathless anticipation—and that’s when he found her.Slick and warm and already trembling for him.
He slid one finger inside her deep heat.
“You feel that?”he growled.“How wet you are for me?Christ, Bea.You’re soaking.You want this.You want me.”
