“Answer me, Bethie. Did you feel pleasure?”
Eyes still closed, she spoke the truth, her voice barely a whisper. “Aye.”
“Have you ever enjoyed kissing a man before?”
Her blush grew hotter. “Nay. But it is no’ a fair question. I have never been kissed before, no’ like that.”
“A husband intent on pleasuring his wife would kiss her like that every day.” He kissed her lips again, softly, slowly. “And every night.” Again he kissed her.
Bethie’s mind was a riot of emotion. Her lips tingled, ached. Her body shivered uncontrollably, flooded with unfamiliar sensations. “Nicholas!”
His name was a plea, a prayer. Could he be telling her the truth? Was there more to the joining of men and women than she understood? Was this longing his touch aroused in her part of that?
“I want to kiss you, Bethie. One kiss to show you that I’m right. One kiss to prove that I can bring you pleasure.”
She opened her eyes, saw the look of sensual hunger on his face, knew he was holding himself back. “And if I hate it?”
“If you hate it, I’ll never kiss you again. But if you enjoy it, then we shall end each reading lesson with a kiss.”
“And you promise not to...”
“Whatever else I may be, I am not the sort of man who would force himself on a woman, love. I will do nothing that you do not ask me to do.” The sincerity and intensity of his gaze stole what remained of her breath.
Nothing that you do not ask me to do.
The words hung in the air between them. Outside a robin sang a sweet farewell to the sun, but Bethie barely heard it. She was lost in Nicholas—his gaze, his scent, the lingering taste of him on her lips, the enthralling sound of his voice, the power of his words.
Nothing that you do not ask me to do.
She swallowed her fear. “Aye, Nicholas. Show me.”
He growled low in his throat, slid one hand beneath her hair to cradle her head, drew her close with the other. Then his mouth gently captured hers.
Heat licked through her, flared deep in her belly, as his lips teased, stroked, caressed hers. She felt weak, reckless, almost faint with need. “Nicholas.”
He caught her whisper with his mouth, traced the line of her lips with his tongue, until her lips parted in anticipation of she knew not what.
He groaned, took the kiss deeper, his tongue seeking hers, tasting her, stroking the inside of her cheeks, his fingers tracing her spine through the thin cloth of her shift.
Awash in new sensations, she melted into the hard wall of his chest, found herself kissing him back, her tongue meeting his, tasting him in return.
Nicholas knew he should stop. But she was so warm and willing in his arms, and she tasted so good—like wild honey and woman. He wanted more of her, needed more of her. But what he wanted he could not take. For her sake.
Slowly, he released her, sat back, stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers.
Breathless and trembling, she looked up at him through eyes filled with yearning. Her lips were wet, swollen, maddeningly ripe. Her hands still rested on his shoulders.
He was terribly close to pulling her into his arms again when he remembered to ask the question. “Tell me, Bethie. Did my kiss bring you pleasure?”
She closed her eyes for a moment, as if struggling with the answer, then met his gaze. “Aye.”
***
Nicholas kicked the malfunctioning trap across the forest floor, let out a stream of profanity that would have shocked even another trapper.
He wanted to hit something, anything.
What in the hell had he been thinking when he offered to give Bethie a kiss each night? For five agonizing days he’d been living with the consequences of that decision—sleepless nights, restlessness, frustration. His balls were on the brink of exploding, and his cock was in a near-constant state of arousal. And his dreams...
