Page 52

As always, she responded to him so completely that it was a wonder he had not tossed aside his good intentions earlier. He wrapped his arms around her, and she did the same with him. When he lowered his lips this time, he felt the difference. This was the start of something he intended to finish.

“So soft,” he murmured.

Graeme captured her tongue then and gave her no quarter. Mindful that this was indeed her first time, he wanted to distract her from any pain she might experience. So he circled and pressed until his wife’s breathing became heavier.

He would seduce her, pleasure her, then make love to her.

Breaking contact with her lips, Graeme trailed a path of kisses to her ear.

“How are you feeling?” he whispered, lowering his mouth to her neck and not stopping there.

“I—”

Graeme smiled against her skin. His goal had been met.

“I don’t want you to be able to talk.” He kissed the valley between her breasts, thanking the unknown dressmaker for giving him such access. Cupping her with both hands, he squeezed gently as his mouth continued to deliver promises of what was to come.

Though Graeme had always relished the feeling of a woman’s pleasure, the jolt that came from his wife’s soft moans shook him to the core. He’d do anything to please her, to make her forget everything save his hands, his lips.

“So much . . . to tell . . .” She did not stand a chance. He was able to dip so far below the fabric of her gown his tongue nearly touched the tip of her breast. She might want to tell him something, but that something would have to wait.

16

He turned her around and began to unlace her gown at the back.

“Are you going to make love to me now?” Her traitorous body knew there were important matters to discuss. Urgent matters. But all she could think about was his lips . . . there. His hands like irons, scalding her and making her unable to form a coherent thought.

“I am.”

Once untied, the gown dropped on its own, her arms easily emerging from the flowing sleeves. Why wasn’t she the least bit nervous? Shouldn’t she be?

“Do you know what that means?”

She stepped out of the gown and turned. He tossed it aside in a heap.

His tunic joined it on the floor a moment later.

“How did you manage that so quickly? You couldn’t possibly—”

“I told you.” He lifted his hands, so large and powerful they could probably kill a man. “They’re quick.”

Gillian almost asked if she could touch him. Surely she didn’t need permission, but she suddenly felt quite shy as she stared at the ridges on his chest.

“You can . . . and should,” he said before he captured her lips with his own, somehow understanding. Whether she’d said it aloud or he simply knew what was in her mind, it hardly mattered. She took the invitation, wrapping her arms around his naked back and allowing herself the pleasure of being pressed up against him. His mouth slanted against hers, his tongue insistent that she give him her own, which she did, gladly. The swirling and thrusting nearly tore her in two—Gillian found herself pulling her husband closer, wanting more of him.

This kiss was different. The very thin fabric that separated them was nothing like the thicker velvet of her gown. This defense was fragile, taunting. It would not hold up.

When he pulled away, the sense of loss was immediate.

“I’d see you, lass. All of you.”

Gillian had never kissed a man before Graeme and had certainly never allowed one to see her naked. But oddly enough, she wanted to show herself to him. At her nod, Graeme lifted her shift and pulled it over her head in one quick motion.

The look in his eyes made her feel . . . proud. She did not attempt to cover herself.

“Beautiful,” he said just before he removed his trewes and stood before her utterly and completely naked.

“Oh—” She should be terrified. Certainly there was no way that would fit inside her. But instead, she wanted to touch it. Touch him. His legs were thick and muscled like every other part of him.