Page 72 of Courting Elizabeth

She moved to cover her breasts with her arms. I placed a hand on her forearm without holding it there.

“Don’t hide from my eyes for fear of what I might see.”

She hesitated, then lowered her arms on her own. Her eyes found mine again.

The trust in that gesture eased the last of my tension.

I settled between her legs and braced myself on one arm. With my free hand, I touched her again to be sure she was ready.

I guided myself against her.

The heat of that contact drew the same sharp breath from both of us.

“Slowly,” she murmured.

“Always.”

I entered gradually, watching her face. She tensed when I met resistance.

I stopped.

“A little painful,” she admitted.

I held still while she caught her breath. Her hands slid over my back—not to push me away, but to keep me close.

“A little more,” she murmured.

I pushed gently. The resistance gave way. She moaned, and her fingers dug into my shoulders.

I stayed deep inside her, my body flooded with a sensation so perfect it threatened my sanity.

“The truth, Elizabeth.”

“It burns. And you’re… very present.”

A strangled laugh escaped me.

“I can pull out.”

She tightened her legs around me.

“No. Just wait.”

I waited until I felt her body relax around mine. Then I began to move, achingly slow.

The first movements were awkward. She sought my rhythm, lost it, then found it again. The discomfort didn’t disappear entirely, but the pleasure I’d given her earlier had left her body sensitive to every touch.

I slipped a hand between us. She drew a surprised breath.

“Again?”

“Only if you want.”

She guided my fingers herself.

I stroked her as my movements deepened. Her pleasure built again, different from before—less sharp, mingled with the discomfort and the emotion of having me inside her.

“Don’t stop,” she murmured.