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‘I was,’ he gritted out again. ‘Until you.’
Then, not allowing her the chance to argue, he reached down between them and started playing with her. Long strokes, fast swirls, anything that made her head drop back and her breath come in short, choppy bursts all over again.
The man was far too devilish for his own good.
‘I want you,’ she whispered, her hands gliding down his back and her fingernails gently grazing as they moved.
He shivered against her, sliding in deeper, and she gasped.
‘You’re not helping.’ His voice sounded half-strangled and Bridget found that she loved that most of all.
‘I’m not trying to help,’ she whispered back. ‘I’m trying to make you come apart the way you just did for me.’
‘This time we’ll do it together.’
She lowered her eyes, not wanting to meet his. Not liking the idea of reminding him how inexperienced she was.
‘I don’t think I can.’
‘Oh, Birdie...’ He sounded amused even through his pained tone. ‘I’m going to prove to you how many times you can.’
As she opened her mouth to respond, he started moving, slowly at first but still every sound was snatched awa
y from her.
There was pain...only not. It was there for a brief moment and then it wasn’t. Leaving instead a dull sensation. She might have to say a kind of...stretching. But along with it the shocking realisation that Hayden was sliding inside her.
His long, thick length was going all the way inside her, and her brain was thrilling at the notion, even as her body was making its objections known.
‘Relax,’ he murmured. ‘I promise I’ll be gentle.’
‘It...pulls.’
‘So give it a moment.’ He dropped his forehead to connect softly with hers, as though he was having to control himself more than she’d realised.
Bridget didn’t know what it was about that fact that made her want to shift her hips—but she did it. And then, as his eyes held hers, the expression in them darkening with desire, she tried it again. And again.
‘Better?’ he demanded hoarsely.
She grinned.
‘I’d say so.’
‘Fine,’ he announced grimly, beginning to move. And only then did Bridget realise her mistake.
Awareness flooded her. And need. As he set a leisurely pace, she felt herself melt around him. Her body cried out for him and her knees began to rise up to draw him deeper. Instinctively, her hands moved down to his backside to encourage him further.
‘I don’t know what you’re doing to me,’ he gritted out, ‘but I swear you’re killing me, Birdie.’
‘I don’t know what I’m doing either,’ admitted Bridget. ‘I only know I want you. Inside me. Deeper.’
If this was sex, she had no idea what it must be like to be in love.
‘I’m trying to go gently,’ he managed.
She nodded, her words little more than whispered.
‘I know. But I don’t think I want you to be gentle with me.’
