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“There was no time to procure such things needed for a gown like this, and the shifts I do own aren’t cut low enough.” Her next shiver was from more than the cool air in the room. “As for the stays, well, can a woman on the shelf not act a tiny bit scandalous once in a while?” It was by sheer fortune that the gown’s cut accommodated her natural waist. “I suppose that’s one advantage of being slim with very little figure.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” He brushed his palms over her taut nipples. Tingles of need danced between her breasts and her core. “Your body has tempted me beyond reason from the moment you burst onto my ship.” Again and again, he teased those erect buds, and when she arched her back, he merely laughed and applied himself to his play all the more.

“Perhaps you’re biased.” She lifted a hand, wrapped it about his nape to encourage his head down. When he took the hint, Felicity nipped at the underside of his jaw. The trace of stubble there added awareness to what she already felt.

“I have good reason.” When she assumed he would continue, he surprised her again by scooping her up into his arms. At her squeal, he grinned, and it sparkled with a wickedness that stole her breath. “It’s time to remove to the bed, don’t you think?”

“I suppose, but—”

“On this most holy of mornings, don’t you think it’s a bit odd to commit our love to each other on the floor beneath a Bavarian tree?” He carried her into the adjoining bedchamber and across the floor.

“I thought it might be romantic.” Her words were a trifle breathless as he set her back onto her feet.

“Then all the more reason to make use of it tomorrow night,” he said with a wink. In a twinkling, he’d worked the row of tiny buttons at the back of her gown from their holes. With an insistent tug, the garment fell from her body to pool on the floor, a puddle of crimson and sparkles in the inky darkness. As he kneeled, he yanked at the ties that kept her petticoat about her waist. When it came free, he divested her of that garment too and smiled, as if were the most natural thing in the world to have a naked woman in his bedchamber.

While he helped her off with her slippers, she couldn’t command the tremors that moved through her limbs. Dear God, why wouldn’t he say anything? Finally, she could stand it no longer. Felicity rested a hand on his shoulder. “Well? Do I pass muster?”

“Ah, sweeting.” He raked his dark gaze up and down her person with such intensity heat danced over her skin. “I knew you’d be gorgeous.” As if he couldn’t bear to remain parted from her, Bartholomew kissed her hard as he toed out of his shoes.

It was all she could do to keep passion from completely clouding her mind. Oh, he was every bit as glorious as she imagined. Wide shoulders, strong torso, ridged abdomen, narrow waist. The mat of hair that flared over his upper chest tapered into a thin ribbon that was lost beneath the waist of his black trousers, and she desperately wanted to see where it ended. “Why didn’t you wear your Naval uniform?” Not wishing to spare a moment to be shocked by her own forward behavior, she fumbled with the buttons at his frontfalls.

“I would have, except I couldn’t locate the white breeches and suspect Luke might have carried them off in one of his bouts of playing pretend.” The captain batted her hands away. Seconds later, he’d shucked out of his trousers and removed his socks. When he stood nude with his member proudly erect and quite thick, he flashed a cheeky grin. “Shall we begin?”

A squeal was her only answer, for he tumbled her onto the bed and followed her down with his large body covering hers. Oh, the strength of him was divine, and the spicy citrus scent of him as he pressed her into the mattress all too delicious. Then there was no need for further conversation.

They communicated with naught but caresses and kisses, nips, licks and nibbles. Bartholomew’s hands were seemingly everywhere on her body. He trailed his fingers along her skin, invoking both shivery sensations and heated need. When he drew one of her nipples into the warm cavern of his mouth, she sighed from the decadence of it. The callouses on his fingers added new heights to the excitement he invoked, as did the erotic scrape of the stubble on his jaw when he decided to explore her body with his mouth.

Though she slid her hands over various portions of his shoulders and torso when he’d let her, the bulk of her concentration focused on not losing herself to the wonderous feelings swamping her with everything that he did to her. Though that mysterious part of him twitched and jumped against her belly or her inner thigh depending on how he shifted, she didn’t have courage to explore it. There was enough of him pressed against her that she was quite out of her mind with this new world of pleasure.

Then he put a hand between her thighs, and she nearly vaulted off the bed in surprise.

“Shh, it’s all right. I won’t hurt you.” The words tickled the shell of her ear, and as she nodded, he continued, brushing his fingers through her feminine curls, along sensitive flesh. “Damn, Felicity, you’re already wet.”

Was that a good thing? Her mother had never told her anything more than the basics regarding relations between men and women, and neither had she gleaned any interesting bits from eavesdropping on the conversations between servants. “What are you…” A sound somewhere between a strangled scream and a moan left her throat when he touched the swollen button at the center of her sex.

“That’s it. Concentrate on my touch,” he crooned while peering into her eyes. “Give yourself over to the sensations, the pleasure.”

Truth be told, his touch didn’t bring all that much pleasure. It was more unrelenting pressure that built and stacked in her belly, but what he did was… interesting and given time it would probably turn into—

“Oh!” When he rubbed a certain spot, she squirmed beneath him, her hips bucking of their own violation. “Bartholomew, what, what… I need…” She couldn’t form the words to speak any longer due to the unrelenting friction he employed. Just when she thought she’d faint from his attentions, he shifted the position of his hand, pressed the heel of his palm to that swollen button and penetrated her passage with two fingers. “Oh, goodness.” She gripped his shoulders in an effort to remain grounded in the moment instead of flying about the room. Now she’d found that elusive pleasure.

“Shh. We don’t want to rouse Mother or even Luke.” But he grinned and applied himself to his task with more gusto.

Felicity gasped. Her body felt different, tense, taut, strung too tight. She slid a hand between them and pressed hers to his, guiding him back to where it had felt all too wonderful. The instant he touched her nubbin, rubbed at it in that specific way, she shattered. Her scream of surprise was dampened by Bartholomew quickly slamming his mouth to hers. He kissed her as if his life depended upon it and didn’t let up until the tremors throughout her body had calmed somewhat.

Eventually, he eased off her long enough to resettle himself between her bent knees. “You’re adorable, so much so that I can’t wait to make you hit release again.” Once he’d fit the head of his hardened member to her still-trembling opening, she caught her breath.

“You’ll make me feel… this again?” The reality was so much more eye-opening than she’d ever thought.

“Oh, my girl, there is so much you have to learn.” He held her head in his hands and with a flex of his hips, he thrust into her body, not stopping until he’d broken past that barrier of her womanhood and buried himself deep.

There was a sharp prick of pain that brought quick tears to Felicity’s eyes, but that was secondary to how his thick, hard length filled her, stretched her, became almost a part of her. “You’re… there’s so… much of you,” she whispered and reoriented her position to better accommodate him.

He snorted as if he’d found it to be the funniest joke. “Is that a good thing?” So saying, he withdrew only to ease back in with exquisite leisure.

“Yes.” The word was naught but a breath while shivery sensation tingled all over her.

“Pain?” Emotion graveled his voice, a testament to how he battled with control.

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