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CHAPTER12
The woman in his arms stirred, but Adrian held her firm as he softened inside her. Then he brushed his mouth against her lips, swollen from his earlier kisses, and withdrew. A sense of loss overcame him as he slid out of her.
She gazed up at him, her eyes wide with wonder, as if she had never experienced pleasure before.
Perhaps she never had.
Whoever—whatever—her husband had been, of one thing, Adrian was certain.
The man had been an utter cad.
What the devil had he been about? All that passion, wrapped up in that delectable body—gone to waste.
But no more.
His manhood twitched at the thought of the pleasures to come, the experiences he could show her.
And to think that he’d be her first! Not the first to claim her body, but the first to give her true pleasure. And, as Dominic, the practiced seducer, always said, a woman was only ever truly owned by the first man to make her climax.
And—by Lord—how she’d climaxed! Her body had squeezed and throbbed around him, drawing him deep inside her. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt such a powerful release.
She pushed herself off the keyboard and groaned.
“Are you sore?” he whispered.
She colored and looked away.
“I meant your shoulders,” he said. “Here…”
He lifted her into a sitting position on the piano stool.
“The piano dug into my back,” she said. “When we…” She broke off, shyness in her voice.
“Did you mind?”
“No.” She shook her head. “Somehow, it made it all the more…”
“Pleasurable?”
She looked up at him, uncertainty in her eyes. “Is it wrong, to have enjoyed it so much?”
He captured her mouth in a swift kiss. “Oh, my sweet love!” he cried. “It’s not wrong to take pleasure. Sometimes a little pain helps with the stimulation. It makes you feel alive so that when you come, the release is all the better for it.”
“It all sounds so clinical,” she said, “as if you’re undertaking research.”
“Perhaps I am,” he said. “As are you. We are not all the same, and if you are to truly enjoy the pleasures of your body, you must understand its likes and dislikes.”
She frowned. “What if I hadn’t liked it?”
“I would have known.”
She blushed and bit her lip. “I suppose you’ve had experience of many women to know when one is…” she waved her hand, “…enjoying herself.”
He took her face in his hands and tilted her chin up until their eyes met again, hers brimming with moisture.
“Sophia,” he said. “I have no wish to discuss many women. The only subject I wish to study is you.”
He pulled his breeches back up and buttoned them, watching her as she sat on the stool, her dress torn a little at the front, skirts around her waist. Her skin was flushed with the rose-petal bloom of female satisfaction, and her chest still rose and fell with the irregular rhythm of one who had just experienced pleasure.
