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Gillian tossed away any vestiges of shyness and allowed her curiosity free rein. This man was her husband, and as he had said, more than once, the bedroom was not the place for reservations.

Even so, I can’t very well ask if I can touch it.

She opened her mouth, still staring, but before any words formed, he took her hand and guided it to him.

“Do you remember what I said?”

Aye, very well.

“In here, there are no secrets. No shyness. If you want something, take it.”

He wrapped his hand around hers, curling her fingers around his thick column before letting go.

Graeme moaned, his head tilting back and eyes closing. Even more fascinating than the feel of him beneath her was the realization she had power over him. When she moved her hand, she was in control. His eyes whipped open, and he reached out so quickly it took a moment for her to realize his intent.

Graeme cupped both of her breasts and rubbed his thumbs over her nipples, making them peak. There were simply too many sensations. Her insides felt as if they’d melt away from her, the throbbing between her legs growing more insistent with every caress.

“What is happening?” she managed.

Graeme’s low growl sounded like pain and pleasure all wrapped into one. He lifted her as if she were a feather pillow and carried her to the massive bed at the other end of the chamber. Once he’d lowered her to the mattress, Graeme moved over her, the muscles in his arms bulging as he held himself up.

“Your body is preparing for this,” he answered.

When his mouth closed around her breast again, she reached around his back and attempted to hold on. To grasp and grab at anything to keep from falling under the spell that was Graeme de Sowlis.

He gave her breast the same attention as her mouth. And when he moved his hand down between them, Gillian pressed against him.

“You’re ready,” he murmured against her breast.

She could have told him as much.

When he nudged her legs apart, Gillian allowed it. Graeme lifted his head then, his eyes saying that he was sorry as clearly as if he’d spoken it.

But what did he have to—

His manhood pressed against her, and with his hand guiding him, Gillian suddenly felt filled, if just a tad. Sure, that was pleasant enough. If this was lovemaking, then . . .

“Ouch!” she cried when he entered her completely.

He kissed her then, his lips moving over hers more gently, more reverently, than before. Gillian concentrated on the feeling of his lips. Proud that she already knew how to touch her tongue to his. They circled and swirled, tangled together—

And then he moved.

Oh yes, he moved and it was glorious.

“It doesn’t hurt any longer,” she said, pulling away to tell him that. To her surprise, she wanted more—she wanted to be even closer.

Still propped above her, Graeme moved slowly, entering and then retreating. But it was not his movement or the knowledge that he was inside her—inside her—that stilled her.

It was his expression.

His hooded eyes and set jaw sent a shiver through her entire body. Suddenly, she wanted to meet his every thrust with one of her own. His eyes bore into hers, the connection they’d shared in the garden still very much present.

“Good,” he said, the tone like the lathering of soap, smooth and slick.

He moved against her, faster and faster, and Gillian, understanding, did the same.

“You’re holding back,” she said.