Page 71 of Yearning

He kissed her again.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

THEY HAD BEEN kissing for some time now. They were horizontal on his bed. She was under him, and he was resting against her, and their bodies were lined up, and she liked the heft of him against her, liked his warmth, liked his scent.

She had one of her hands tangled in his hair and she kissed his mouth and kissed his chin and kissed his jaw.

Her shift was hiked up, baring almost all of her legs, but they were both still entirely covered, and he had touched her nowhere untoward. She was not quite used to this. Both men she’d been with had quite taken charge of steering the act toward its completion.

She was not complaining about the way things were going. She had never been so thoroughly kissed for so long, and her body had grown tight and eager and aroused in a way that she really only had ever felt towards the end of an encounter, and she began to realize that she’d been rushed by all the other men who’d been with her.

This was good, but she also knew that it would fall to her to take the initiative, at least this first time, because he was too nervous and worried to do it himself. She was trying to work up the courage to simply touch him there. She could feel that there was nothing pressing into her between his legs, and he had said he would not grow aroused unless he was touched, so she knew she had to do it, but she was not used to being so forward with a man, and she also felt as if it was quite a thing to do, to touch him there, when he was damaged in the way he was.

She called up the image of him in her mind, lying unconscious on the bed dosed on laudanum, the small stump of him lying against his leg, the way she had felt seeing it, and she hesitated.

Lizzy, she scolded herself, he has never been touched there by a woman since the accident. You have nothing to worry about. He will welcome anything you do.

This was true, but she still did not move her hand.

And then, suddenly, his hand was inside her shift.

She let out a gasp.

He paused. “All right?”

“Oh yes,” she said, fingers against his cheekbone. “Please.”

His hand slipped up over her hip, and she bit her lip at all the extra heft of her there, but he moved steadily upward until he brushed the underside of her breast.

She gasped again.

He ran his fingers backwards over the swell of her, his knuckles grazing the sensitive tip of her.

She moaned.

He let out a ragged breath. “I want to see you. Help me?”

Yes, he would need help because his one hand was busy. She gathered up a handful of her shift and tugged it upwards, baring her breasts to him, baring everything to him.

He used his stump to prop himself up, to look at her. He gazed down at her body hungrily, and she was doubly aware of every single imperfection, but he only said, “Lizzy, you are lovelier than I could have imagined.”

And somehow, she believed him. Maybe it was the hushed tone of his voice or the expression his face.

He lowered his mouth to take the tip of her breast into it, and that made her bow up and moan.

She let him explore her, to go back and forth with his mouth and his hand, making her breasts wet, the tips stiff, and her entire body felt as if it was fizzing with her arousal, her pleasure. She was not certain she had ever been this aroused.

It made her brave. She thrust her hand between his legs and she felt around and he made some kind of noise in his throat, and then… there it was, and she wrapped her hand around it and felt it grow against her, felt it stand up straight and stiffen against her, felt it practically triple in size.

He let out a whimper, pressing his forehead into her clavicle. “Lizzy, Lizzy,” he groaned.

“This is…” How could she say this? “There’s so much of you.”

He let out a laugh. “There is entirely not.”

“I only mean, there is more than I…”

He pushed up to look down at her. “You think there is enough?” He was very, very worried about this.