He might be the one with all the experience, but he was terrified of hurting her, emotionally or physically or both, and that fear paralyzed him. She needed to take the initiative for both of them.
Getting naked in front of him hadn't been easy, but she'd practiced it in front of the mirror in her room for days, and the many scenes of first lovemaking that she'd read in Drova's romance novels had helped as well.
She hadn't anticipated feeling so secure and at ease when Ruvon started washing her feet, and that sense persisted as he carefullyran a soapy cloth slowly up the curve of her calf. The feeling was hard to describe. It went beyond mere safety and relaxation. It was a pleasant melting in her muscles and a calm awareness of his love and care. The only nervous one in the room was Ruvon, who was doing his best not to lose his composure.
She'd done that to him.
The girl who had walked into the village barely able to make eye contact with anyone, let alone males, was now playing the part of a seductive diva who was being pampered by her incredibly patient and loving husband.
She'd been worried that her body would betray her tonight, that it would lock up at the wrong moment, remembering things that had no business being remembered on her wedding night.
But her body was smart, and it knew the difference between then and now.
Ruvon moved past her calves to her knees and stopped there as if he feared trespassing.
"Keep going," she said softly. "There are no safe zones or forbidden zones. I'm yours, and you are mine, and tonight, we are going to explore every inch of each other's bodies."
She had no idea where she'd found the courage to say that to him. It wasn't anything she'd read in those raunchy novels or had heard anyone say. It came from the heart.
He looked up at her with adoration in his eyes that was mixed with trepidation, as if he didn't trust that she meant what she'd said.
"I mean it, my love."
"I love you."
She smiled. "I love you too. Now, continue worshiping me with that washcloth. It's very enjoyable."
He chuckled. "Yes, my queen."
When the cloth moved up over her hip and into the curve of her waist, he kept going, but his breathing became more labored. The cloth moved up her ribs, and then around the side of her breast, and then over the top of her breast, and her body responded.
It wasn't the first time he'd touched her there. They'd ventured into this territory several weeks ago in the dim privacy of his living room, but they'd both stopped before things could go any further because crossing a certain line would have ended in them breaking the promise they had made to each other to wait for their wedding night.
That night was now, and there was no more reason to stop, and that knowledge made the contact feel more profound than it had the first time.
She drew in a breath.
Ruvon's hand stilled.
"Don't stop," she whispered.
He moved the cloth in a slow circle around the curve of her breast, and then over the other one, and her body wanted it, needed it, and the wanting and needing wasn't tangled up with any old memories that didn't belong between them tonight.
She'd expected those memories to ambush her, to surface. She'd expected them to surface when things got heated. She'd lainawake for nights imagining the moment when the past would come crashing in and ruin what should be the best and most memorable night of her life.
But none of that had happened, and the past remained where it should, locked in a compartment in her brain and denied entry to this special moment.
Ruvon's patience and love were the cure and the antidote.
He moved up to her shoulders.
"Lean forward a little, sweetheart," he said.
Arezoo did, and Ruvon washed her back, and his hand was steadier now.
She liked that he wasn't taking anything for granted, not even on his wedding night.
Her mate was an incredible male, and she was the luckiest girl in the world to have been awarded such a boon by the Fates.
