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Still smiling, he shook his head in question. “Now me?”
“Your clothing.” She pulled the sheet up past her chin to hide her blush. “Take it off.”
“Are you sure?” he asked, laughing.
“Very.” She liked the way he looked naked. Despite the scars that made her think of things she didn’t wish to, his body was fascinating.
Nick’s smile faded, and he unknotted his dressing robe and let it part. He still wore his breeches beneath, which was a bit of a disappointment. But when he dropped the robe, she took her time looking over his shoulders and wide chest. She wanted to touch him the way he’d touched her, but that would mean emerging from the shield of the bedcovers. She was cozy there and enjoying the show.
He didn’t look away as he reached for the buttons of his breeches, didn’t seem to hesitate at all. He very calmly unfastened each button and then slipped off his breeches and drawers in one motion.
When he stood straight again, Cynthia shrieked. Just a little.
“What is it?” Nick glanced back toward the door as if someone else had surprised her.
“You were smaller,” she whispered in horror.
“Pardon?”
“Nothing.”
Nick frowned. “What’s wrong, Cyn?”
“Nothing.” There was nothing to be done now. She’d just have to smile and nod and bear it. And she wasn’t a virgin anymore. It shouldn’t be too bad, really. She’d just assumed it would be easier with him. “Everything’s fine.”
“Can I come in then?”
She lifted the covers slowly enough that he could change his mind if he chose to.
She didn’t understand. He hadn’t seemed particularly soft that first night she’d seen him in the nude, but there must be degrees of…measurement to the thing.
“As many naked men as you’ve seen in your life, I didn’t expect you’d be shocked,” he muttered as he slipped in beside her. He slid across the sheets and pressed against Cynthia.
“Ah,” he murmured, but she was too stunned to even breathe. The whole hot length of his body was pressed into her, burning her, as if in the space of one second she’d become part of him. His hand settled on her belly, fingers spread wide.
“Oh, my.”
“You’re so soft,” he breathed, his lips brushing against her cheek.
Hands still clutching the sheet to her chest, Cynthia turned and kissed him. She felt his fingers press tighter to her belly and then gave herself up to the kiss. She drank him in, consumed him, as his hand began a slow journey.
He cupped one breast, then the other, curved his fingers around her ribs, and dipped his thumb into her navel. He explored her, as if he’d wondered about her body. As if he’d anticipated these first few touches.
Because they were still kissing, a moment passed before she realized his hand had left her. Nick freed his arm from the covers and took hold of one of her fists. When he eased her hands down, the blanket slid down too.
Her breasts were exposed, and then her belly.
He lay his arm across her, trapping her tight against him. Her hands bunched the sheet against her pelvis.
“Look at you, Cyn,” he breathed just before he lowered his head and closed his lips over her nipple.
His mouth drew at her, even as his tongue rubbed circles, urging startling feelings from deep in her belly. Then his lips parted and it was just his tongue, tracing her nipple, teasing her into a tiny whimper.
He teased like that for long minutes, alternating between light touches and heavy demands, until Cynthia had given up whimpering and was moaning with need.
She’d never felt anything like this before. So needful and hungry. She no longer cared about her worries or his sadness. Her body had taken her over and it would have what it wanted.
Cynthia let go of her death grip on the sheet and pulled her arm free of his hold. She curled her fingers around his upper arm, amazed at the strength in his solid muscles. He was so male, looming over her, and yet she felt safe and treasured.
