As she’d done with him in every other arena, in lying beneath him, she’d coped, too.
Coped rather well, in fact.
The thought brought to mind her earlier fascination with his erection-a fascination he now better understood; she’d wanted to touch, to examine…the memory of her small hand and delicate fingers wrapped about his shaft had the inevitable effect.
Jaw setting, he drained the glass. Later, he’d said; it was later now.
She stirred even before he reached the bed. Setting the empty glass on the bedside table, he met her eyes as he let the silk robe he’d donned fall from his shoulders; lifting the covers, he climbed into the bed and laid down. She slid helpfully toward him; expecting that, raising one arm, he drew her closer; she hesitated, then came, tentatively settling against him. He waited, assessing yet again the possible tacks he might take in the discussion he was about to initiate.
Minerva found his heat, the solidity of his body and the warmth that emanated from his muscled flesh, both comforting and luring. Nerves that had tensed slightly relaxed again. Greatly daring, she sank deeper into his light embrace; his arm tightened about her, and it seemed only natural to raise her head and settle it in the hollow just below his shoulder, letting her hand rest, palm down, on his chest.
She quashed an impulse to snuggle her cheek into the pillowing muscle; he wasn’t hers, not really-she should strive to remember that.
He lifted a strand of her hair from her face, smoothed it back.
She was wondering if she was supposed to say something-comment on his performance, perhaps-when he spoke.
“You should have told me you were a virgin.”
The instant the words left his lips, Royce knew they’d been the wrong thing to say. The wrong tack to take in introducing his proposal.
She tensed, gradually but definitely, then raised her head and narrowed her eyes on his face. “Understand this, Royce Varisey-I do not, absolutely do not want to hear a single word about marriage. If you so much as mention the word in relation to me, I’ll consider it the most inexcusable insult. Just because I was your mother’s protйgйe and just happened-through no fault of mine or yours-to still be a virgin, is no reason at all for you to feel obliged to offer for my hand.”
Oh, Christ. “But-”
“No.” Lips set, eyes snapping, she pointed at his nose. “Keep quiet and listen! There’s no point in offering for my hand-in even thinking of it-because even if you do, I will refuse you. As you’re very well aware, I enjoyed the”-she paused, then waved-“interlude immensely, and I’m more than adult enough to take responsibility for my own actions, even if our recent actions were more yours than mine. Regardless, contrary to popular misconception, the last, very last thing a lady such as I want to hear after lying with a man for the first time is a proposal prompted by said man’s misplaced notion of honor!”
Her voice had steadily gained in intensity. She glared at him, lips tight. “So don’t make that mistake.”
The tension investing her body, lying half atop his, was of entirely the wrong sort. His features impassive, he searched her eyes; he’d made a tactical blunder, and had to beat a strategic retreat. He nodded. “All right. I won’t.”
She narrowed her eyes even more. “And you won’t try to manipulate me into it?”
He raised both brows. “Manipulate you into marriage because I took your virginity?” He shook his head. “I can assure you-I’ll even promise on my honor-that I won’t do that.”
Eyes locked with his, she hesitated, almost as if she could detect the prevarication in his words. He steadily returned her regard. Eventually she uttered a soft “humph,” and swung away. “Good.”
She pulled out of his arms, and started wrestling her way free of the covers.
He reached out and lightly clasped her wrist. “Where are you going?”
She glanced at him. “To my room, of course.”
His fingers locked. “Why?”
She blinked at him. “Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?”
“No.” His eyes on hers, he drew the hand he held back beneath the covers-down to where his erection stood at full attention. Curling her fingers about his rigid flesh, he watched her expression change to one of fascination. “This,” he ground out, “is what you’re supposed to do. What you’re supposed to attend to.”
Her gaze refocused on his face. She studied his eyes, then nodded. “All right.” Swinging back to him, she switched her right hand for her left, smoothing her palm up his length before, as she leaned into him, closing her fingers. “If you insist.”
He managed a grating “I do.” Reaching up, he slid one hand behind her nape and pulled her lips down to his. “I insist you learn all you want to know.”
She took him at his word, hands touching, caressing, squeezing, gliding, tracing as she would. The unconscious, unguarded sensuality in her face as, eyes closing as if to imprint the heft and weight, length and shape of him on her mind, she explored as she would, tried his control to its limit and beyond. To a chest-shuddering, muscle-quivering extent he’d never before had to endure.
He clung to his sanity by planning what came next. He favored sitting her astride him, impaling her, then teaching her to ride him, but discovered he lacked the strength to counter the urges her bold, innocently brazen caresses called forth. Then incited and ignited.
She connected with his more primitive side far more than any other woman ever had.
Reduced to the point where control was a thin and rapidly shredding veil, he brushed her hands aside, rolled her over, pinning her beneath him, spreading her thighs wide and cupping her, touching her, to find her wet once more. Hauling in a huge breath, he wedged his hips between her thighs and entered her-slowly, slowly, slowly, slowly-steady and inexorable so her breath strangled in her chest and she arched beneath him, a cry fracturing on her lips as with a final short thrust he sheathed himself fully within her.
Letting himself down on her, he anchored her hip with one hand, found her face with the other and, lowering his head, covered her lips with his, filled her mouth, and plundered to the same rhythm with which he settled to plunder her body.
A bare heartbeat passed, and then she was with him, her hands reaching around to spread on his back, holding him, clinging, her body undulating, caressing, her hips lifting to match his heavy driving rhythm. Releasing her hip, he reached down, found her knee, and lifted it over his hip.
Without further direction, she hooked that knee higher, then did the same with her other leg, opening herself to him so he could sink deeper into her, could without restraint drive them both even harder, even faster, to oblivion.
He did; when she shattered beneath him he intended to hold back, to extend the engagement and take more of her, but the temptation to fly with her was too great-he let go and followed close on her heels, into the senses-shattering glory of climax and on into the void.
Wrapped in her arms, with her wrapped in his, their hearts thundering, breaths sawing, then slowing, they gradually drifted back to reality.
As, all tension spent, she relaxed, boneless, beneath him, he saw a small, subtle smile curve her kiss-swollen lips. The sight warmed him, curiously touched him.
He watched until it faded as she slid into sated sleep.
Thirteen