Her fingers brushed his arousal, and his abdomen contracted sharply. Watching his face, Isadora reached for him again and curled her hand around his length, feeling his pulse beat against her palm.
“Tell me what you want,” she whispered. “Teach me how to please you…”
“You already please me.” He closed his eyes as her fingertips glided to the smooth, flared crown of him and descended again. After a moment, warm fingers closed over hers, encouraging her to hold him firmly, though not too tightly. “Like this,” he rasped, drawing her hand up and down, flesh sliding across flesh. He felt scalding hot under her palm, almost excruciatingly hard, yet the skin was still soft.
The feel of him like this made her hungry. Eager. Desperate.
He groaned, the sound low. “You feel so good like this, Dora.”
Dora. The name pierced her more sweetly than any endearment could have done. Her parents had called her Dora, back when they had been alive and she’d lived with them—the last time she had felt loved. Being with Nicholas like this made her feel loved, too, wrapped up and warm as though emotion were a blanket he could wind about her shoulders to keep out the chill.
It was as though she had spent most of her life cold and afraid, and now finally—finally—she had a fire and someone to sit beside. A source of warmth. A place she could be wholly herself.
“Last time, you used your mouth on me,” she whispered, “Could I—”
His hips surged helplessly in her hand as though he could not help himself. “If you do,” he warned, dark amusement threading through his ragged voice, “I fear I shall not conduct myself as I had hoped.”
She bit her lower lip. “In what manner?”
“I had hoped to last inside you. To—” He hesitated, then eased them both until they were lying on the floor. How very fortunate that the carpet was soft and thick, although she would scarcely have minded if it had not been. She would have taken him on stone.
His gaze searched hers, lust still burning in its depths, though something quieter had risen beside it—something tender and strangely vulnerable.
“Do you want children, Dora?”
She blinked up at him. “Now?”
A faint crease appeared between his brows. “Well… would you be averse to the idea?”
“Sophia is my child.”
Surprise flared across his face. Beneath her hand, his arousal grew thicker still. She resumed her slow caress, and his eyes fluttered shut. His throat worked before he spoke again. “If I finish inside you—if my seed is inside you, there will be a chance you might become with child.”
“Oh.” At last, understanding unfolded within her.
That was why he had withdrawn the night before. He had not known whether she wanted a child. Perhaps he hadn’t trusted himself to imagine making another life with her.
Yet he imagined it now.
The knowledge lodged beneath her ribs, bright and dangerous.
“What about you?” she whispered.
“I would not object to another child, if that was what you needed.” His eyes softened. “You and Sophia have given me more than I deserve. How could I deny you anything more?”
“Children are not aneed, Nicholas. Merely a desire.” She rolled to kiss him, and to her surprise, he caught her hips, lifting her on top of him.
“Youare my desire.”
I love you.
The words pressed on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed them back.
There was such naked affection in his eyes that hope swelled painfully within her. Yet she had only just persuaded him to remain. If she laid the full weight of her heart before him, he might still take fright and retreat behind all those glacial walls.
She must be patient.
So, instead, she swallowed the confession and reached instead for his body, guiding his rigid length to the wet heat of her entrance. Nicholas gripped her hips as she forced herself slowly down upon him.
