Mia’s lovely dark eyes shimmered with light.
“So, the cat prowls.” Exeter withdrew and studied her for other signs of a shift. “What I am about to do is primarily for my safety, though it may also help to discourage a transformation.” He helped her into bed and she reclined at a comfortable angle against the pillows.
Exeter could not help but stare. “You look like a nude by Edgar Degas—one of those ballet girls he so loves to paint.” Exeter loosed one of the ties looped through his fingers. He reached out for her hand, winding the cloth around her wrist several times before he made a knot. “Too tight?”
Gleaming eyes looked at him—eyes that were aroused. She exhaled a sigh and her belly shuddered. “I’m fine.”
Exeter pulled the neck cloth taut and wrapped it around the bedpost. “Are you cold?”
She shook her head. “When the cat is near, the elements don’t seem to bother me.” Exeter removed his jacket as he walked around to the far side of the bed. “Do you want the candles?”
Her smile was shy, and so beguiling. “I want to see you—and everything you do.” Exeter looked up from his wrapping and tying. “Would you like me to disrobe? That might make you more comfortable—or no?”
Mia moistened her lips, scraping the bottom lightly with her teeth. “Odd, I suppose, but there is something wonderfully wicked about being undressed, on display as it were, for my fully clothed instructor.”
Exeter smiled at her candor and her irony. “That is because everything about this intimate little tableau is erotic.” He finished tying her other arm to the bedpost. “Your initiation into physical intimacy is happening too quickly for any young lady. But I also must be honest. As experienced as I am, this is arousing for me, as well.”
A slow smile curled up the ends of her mouth. “That makes me glad.”
He sat down on the edge of the bed, and rolled up his sleeves.
“There’s warm water in the washbasin, and soap—are you planning on doing surgery?” She was teasing him—making light of the situation. Perhaps he should follow her lead.
Exeter reclined onto an elbow. “No, but we could play doctor.”
He enjoyed her round-eyed look so much he allowed himself a grin. And something else—this wasn’t nearly as awkward as he had thought it might be. “I could place my stethoscope to your heart. Or I could take your temperature . . . rectally.” When her mouth dropped open, he chuckled out loud. Good God, this might even turn out to be pleasurable.
She looked wonderfully naughty—her cheeks flushed with desire as her mouth opened to him. How he wanted to ravish those lips. Exeter knew he was riding a fine line, and he was dangerously close to taking her—giving in to every carnal thought he’d ever had about Mia. And there had been so many of late.
She interrupted his lustful thoughts with one of her own. “You were being serious—about the . . . the thermometer?”
“Entirely serious. Much of arousal is in the mind as well as the heart.” He traced the curve of her breast and tweaked a nipple. Her entire body jumped, then shuddered from his touch. “As you can see, some of it is pure anatomy. The human body has a number of arousal receptors, including the anus.” He moved to the other breast and circled the areola so lightly he barely touched her, yet the nipple quickly puckered into a hard point. “What do you feel when I do this?”
Mia’s only answer was a sweet gasp for breath.
“Of course technique plays a role, as well.” Exeter trailed a fingertip down her torso, over ribs barely felt, and lingered for a teasing swirl around her navel. “Where does your body tell me to go, Mia?”
She raised her heavy-lidded gaze from his hand to his eyes. “Lower.”
Exeter hesitated just long enough to elicit the cutest growl. “Was that the panther or Mia?” A testament to the veracity of Phillpott’s notes. As her arousal grew, she would likely exhibit signs of an emerging shift.
Her pupils were round and black, and she smiled slyly.
So far, he thought they were managing well. The trick was to keep the arousal slow and steady. When Mia drew close to her climax, he would help her focus—keep her sharp and present, even as she surrendered to pleasure. If she didn’t transform—if she kept the cat at bay—that meant this system of shift management was going to work. With practice, she could use these same techniques to shift back and forth at will.
He plunged though a tangle of moist curls, palming her Venus mound and parting her labia majora. His fingertip found the pearl-sized spot that would soon become the focus of her entire being. “This is your clitoris.” He stroked slowly. “Pay close attention to what I do here, Mia—as this is something you can do on your own.”
Mia’s brows crashed together. “Why would I wish to do this on my own if I have you?”
He wasn’t going to argue with her, not in this moment. “As you well know, you must learn to self-modulate this experience—ultimately.” Slowly, he ran his fingertip down between her labia minora and was greeted by flood of wetness. He would not break her hymen—not tonight. The doctor in Exeter steered lascivious thoughts to something more clinical, like a vaginal exam. “Lift your knees, Mia.”
Chapter Six
MIA PULLED HER KNEES UP. “Wider, love,” Exeter nudged them apart, dominating her gently, as was his way. “Let me see how beautiful you are.” His voice gravelly and low—nearly a whisper. He ran his fingers down the inside of her thighs. “Try to relax.”
He was doing things, saying things she had dreamed about for months. She could only hope that the words and deeds came from his heart. Her eyelashes fluttered as she closed her eyes. “Take a deep breath and exhale.” He entered her most private place, and stroked. His fingers were slippery from the moisture her body had made for him—wetness he was using to arouse her. “You will feel the pleasure build quickly, now.” She was aware of a delicate scent in the air—musky and primal. For an instant, she was a wild creature in the woods, thrusting up to greet her lover.
He stroked, adding pressure as he circled a place that made her cry, “Yes.” And, “More.” Her belly trembled and she thrust upward as he probed into her secret female places. Her hips grinding to the rhythm of his strokes. There was something clinical, yet tremendously exciting about Exeter’s detachment. A deliciously naughty connection moving back and forth between them. His stoicism had always intrigued her, for it was so perfectly Exeter. She could not help but wonder what this man might do, if and when he ever lost all control.
He taught her something of the anatomy of pleasure with his touch. Using his thumb, he stroked lightly and very fast, which made her moan.
He moved his finger lower and entered her woman’s passage, probing gently. “This ring of delicate membrane is your hymen. Lovely and pink. Virginal.”
She strained at the ties, which had grown taut and somewhat painful. Exeter stopped and slipped his hands under her bottom. He lifted her up and nudged her closer to the headboard. “More comfortable?”
“Much—thank you.”
He paused to look at her, brows slightly furrowed, signature frown. “I would never wish for this to be any young lady’s initiation to sexual relations.”
“Then make it better for me.” Mia looked at him. “I need you closer, Exeter.”
He returned a nonplussed, dumbfounded blink and promptly ignored her request. He applied himself to her swollen place—the magical spot that made her gasp and moan and cry out for more. Momentarily, all her thoughts returned to pleasure. Her cheeks burned from humiliation. She was asking for something he did not wish to give—himself. There was intimacy in closeness—lovers’ arms and limbs entwined, lips touching, tongues swirling. No doubt Exeter worried that he would lose control, and that such abandon could spell disaster. Or worse, he might begin to feel something.