“Adair,” she whispered breathlessly.
“Emily.” He bent his head to hers, whispering against her lips, “Can I kiss ye?”
She nodded, and he kissed her, soft and slow. His hands wrapped around her waist, playing with the laces at the back of her dress. He felt her stiffen and paused, not wanting to scare her.
“Daenae worry,” he whispered between kisses. “I will do nothing ye’re nae comfortable with.”
She nodded again.
He slanted his head over hers, deepening the kiss, groaning as he tasted her. She was sweetness and heat, absolutely delicious, a temptation that monopolized his thoughts until all he wanted was to drink from her.
He tore his mouth from hers and kissed down her jaw to the spot on her neck that had made her moan earlier, lavishing his attention on it until her hips began to buck. He kissed her collarbone and then moved lower, kissing the swell of her breasts.
Her erect nipples poked through her dress, a temptation he could not easily ignore. He kissed them softly over the fabric, nipping them lightly. Her back bowed, stoking his arousal further.
His free hand squeezed her breast reverently, coaxing more whimpers from her. Her hands alternated between stroking his skin and gripping his hair, her touch innocent, and he ached to teach her more.
She was soft and sweet, honey and heat, and he wanted more. He tangled his tongue with hers, her tiny licks almost driving him insane with desire, sending bolts of mind-numbing pleasure to his groin until he could think of nothing other than the need to feast on her delectable body.
He pushed her back on the table, kissing his way from her breasts down her stomach to her hip as his hands folded up the skirts of her gowns.
She tensed, trying to sit up, but he stilled her with a hand on her belly.
“Daenae fret, Emily,” he soothed. “I only want to show ye pleasure.”
She nodded but still didn’t look at ease.
He understood her perfectly. She was raised prim and proper and probably hadn’t been told of the things a man and a woman could do. He would gladly do it.
He ran one finger up her thigh, resisting the urge to smile when her breath hitched.
“Do ye feel this, Emily?” he asked.
She nodded, her eyes dark.
“What does it feel like?”
She swallowed, breathing in deeply. “Like fire along me skin,” she whispered. “I feel like I’m burning.”
He bit back a groan as his length jumped in his breeches. His skin also felt on fire, and all he wanted was release, but her pleasure was more important.
“I feel like I’m burning as well,” he admitted. “I want to satiate the fire in yer blood, but only if ye let me.”
He watched her consider.
“Ye have nothing to fear with me, Emily,” he added. “If I hurt ye or ye feel uncomfortable at any time, ye can tell me, and I will stop.”
She nodded, and he almost groaned in relief.
He bent his head to her legs, holding her gaze as he did. There was heavy apprehension in her eyes, but also curiosity and a steely resolve to see what he intended to do.
He kissed her knees first, loving how her eyes fluttered.
“Keep yer eyes on me, love,” he said softly.
He ran a hand up the back of her calves to her thighs, enjoying the way she shivered.
“Alright,” she whispered hoarsely.
