“Oh, Emily,” he sighed. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Joanne was right. It hurts terribly.”
Draven pulled her against him. His body still needed hers and it was all he could do not to cry out from the pain of his pent-up desire, but he wouldn’t hurt her again.
He would never be that selfish again.
“It doesn’t hurt,” he whispered, then kissed her.
At first, she tensed and then she relaxed. Draven breathed a sigh of relief. He would help her through this if it was the last thing he did.
Emily didn’t know what to think as he buried his lips against her throat. On the one hand, she was terrified of him entering her again.
Wasn’t it supposed to be over once a man did that?
Yet the feel of his lips on her was pleasurable enough. If only it didn’t lead to the other.
He breathed in her ear and then ran his tongue over her lobe. Emily moaned in pleasure and ran her hands over his ribs.
And then she heard it, a little ripple of laughter from him.
They both froze at the sound.
Emily pulled back to look at him. “Did I hear what I think I did?”
Draven frowned. “I think I may be ticklish.”
“Shall we find out?”
Before he could respond, she reached for his ribs again.
He shot across the room, putting the table between them. Emily shifted her gown over her to keep herself covered as she stalked him.
They circled the table three times with him making sure to keep it between them. Then he dashed to the bed, but she caught him before he could flee.
Falling upon him, Emily set upon his ribs with a vengeance. He threw his head back and laughed aloud as she tickled him mercilessly.
Emily cried out in triumph.
He squirmed to avoid her hands, but she would have none of it. Determined to make him laugh until his sides ached, she continued tickling him.
“Stop, lady. Please, I yield,” he said, grabbing her hands in his.
Emily looked down at him and realized that in her haste to tickle him, she had dropped her gown and climbed upon him. Now his hard, flat stomach rested between her legs.
She gulped at the strange sensation of his rippled muscles beneath her. Of his tiny hairs tickling the damp flesh between her legs as he breathed.
The laughter faded from his face to be replaced by a dark hunger.
He trailed his hands up over her body to her breasts and up to her face to cup it gently.
“You are mine,” he said possessively.
“Aye, Draven, I am yours.”
Draven stared at her as he heard the most precious words on earth to him. He pulled her head to his and kiss her soundly. Her hair fell forward, brushing his chest and arms with her golden curls. He could feel her supple form against him as she surrendered herself to his touch.
His body burned with need, but having so botched his earlier attempt with her, he made himself move more slowly lest her hurt her again.
