Page 88 of To Woo a Wicked Widow

She moaned and pressed his head against her. Her legs moved restlessly.

Good.

He eased off her and reached again for her opening. Slipping his finger inside, he sighed with relief to find her wet and ready. That would make it somewhat easier when the time came. Gathering some of her essence, he moved to the little button just above and began to massage it.

“Oh, Nash.” Charlotte began to moan and writhe the moment he touched that special spot. He smiled against her breast and began to draw on her nipple. She had always responded to his touch magnificently; this time he expected fireworks. As he sucked, he circled around her nub with his finger, coordinating the motions. It shouldn’t take her—

“Oh . . . no. Oh . . . Nash. What’s . . . what’s happening?” Her panted words rose to a high pitch. “Oh, oh, oh. Naaaash.” She grasped his head as her body shook with her first climax.

Nash rested against her now lax body, satisfaction akin to orgasm flooding him. He’d given her the ultimate pleasure, the first man to do so. It filled him with joy that he could do this for her after she’d endured so many empty, passionless years. He raised himself so he could see her happiness and found her cheeks wet with tears.

“Charlotte! My dear, did I hurt you?” Christ, that shouldn’t have been painful.

She shook her head, tears still streaming, and clutched him anew. “I . . . I never knew . . . that I could feel like this. I thought it must be w . . . wonderful because of what the others hinted at. But I couldn’t have imagined this.... I’m just so glad it happened with you.” She burrowed into his shoulder and his heart lurched so hard she must feel it.

“Shhhh, love. It’s all right. I am honored to have been the one to give you such pleasure.” He stroked the beautiful head and pulled the covers over them, lest she grow cold.

Charlotte had always overwhelmed him, never more so than now. How could he not be humbled by her confession? He desired nothing more than to love and cherish her for the rest of their lives. Yet now, bound by honor, he could not ask for the privilege. He sighed and held her closer.

“Charlotte.” Nash kissed her brow. He couldn’t seem to touch her enough.

“Hmmm?”

“There is more, love, if you wish it.”

She rolled away from him and ran her hand down his chest. “Yes, there is more.” Her hand continued down over his stomach.

He sucked in a breath when she rested it at last on his still-aching cock.

She stared into his eyes, hers two pools of dark desire. “Will you show me?”

* * *

She wanted more. Even though she still throbbed with the aftermath of that delightful explosion, yet the ultimate experience still awaited her. With Nash and no other.

A fool. She’d been as bird-witted as any woman seduced by a handsome face and a fast reputation. Only she’d been enticed by a promise of freedom that had ultimately fallen short. Had she a grain of sense, she’d have abandoned her independence and latched onto Nash after their first kiss. She should never have left the library until they were betrothed. Stubborn goose. She really didn’t deserve him.

At least her first lover would be one who truly cared for her. She couldn’t hope for another offer from him; he’d sworn not to ask. But she had him for now, and there was so much more of him she wanted to experience.

She ran her hand down his hard chest, loving the feel of his smooth skin. Best be bold. Faint heart never won fair gentleman. Continuing down over his taut stomach, she reached his member, jutting stiffly at attention. A stroke along that heated flesh and moisture pooled between her thighs. She gazed into Nash’s dark eyes, willing him to see her desire. “Please show me.”

He growled and pounced, covering her instantly. His mouth pressed against hers, his tongue driving inside, taking her breath away.

She wrapped her arms around his neck. He continued kissing her until her whole body throbbed with need and she pulled back to ask, “What should I do?”

“Hold on to me.”

She tightened her grip as he rose up, his knees between hers.

He spread her thighs and bent her knees, stretching her wide, then pressed his heat against her opening. He breathed deeply and said, “This will hurt.”

“I hope it does.”

His eyes widened, then softened. “I love you.”

Her breath stopped, her head reeled. She couldn’t take it in. The pressure between her thighs increased, his outer heat seeking her inner warmth.

He thrust his hips and pain shot through her body, twenty times worse than what she’d expected.