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"So he never unhooked your dress?"
His question once again focused her attention on his fingers along her back. They'd passed her waist and were reaching for the last few hooks over her derriere.
"No," she whispered.
"He never did this, then," he said, stepping back and tugging her dress down her arms until it pooled at her waist.
She resisted the urge to cover herself. Justin stared at her as if she was the most perfect thing he'd ever seen. Dark hair tumbled onto his forehead. His brown eyes glowed from an inner, raging fire. That same heat reached out to warm her, sending sparks along her arms and belly, settling in her breasts and her female place.
Justin moved behind her and untied her petticoats. He pushed them and her dress off her hips, until everything was bunched around her knees. Then he bent over and slipped one arm behind her legs and the other behind her back. After picking her up, he held her against his chest.
She clung to him, her right arm around his neck, her left hand pressed against him. She could feel the strength of his arms through the thin layer of her pantaloons.
Brown eyes held hers. "Tell me you want this," he commanded.
She'd never felt so safe, she realized. Held like this in Justin's arms. The vague unease at being undressed in front of him didn't matter. Nothing mattered but the moment and the man. Nothing mattered but how he made her feel and the knowledge that in the seven years he'd been gone, he hadn't forgotten her.
Her free hand reached up to touch his face. She traced his mouth, then touched the scar across his chin. She remembered the knife fight he'd gotten into so many years ago. Three boys had jumped him from behind. One had pulled a knife. Megan had been walking home from her father's store and had seen everything. Even now she could remember the taste of fear and how she'd prayed he would survive.
Before she'd gathered herself enough to go for help, he'd subdued two of the boys and had turned on the third, the one with the knife. They'd fought silently. The boy had lashed out, cutting Justin's face, but that had been his last act. Faster than her eyes had been able to follow, Justin had punched the boy, knocking him to the ground. The other two had carried away their defeated friend. Without stop-
ping to think about what would happen if they were seen talking together, Megan had pulled out a handkerchief and taken it to Justin. She'd been fifteen at the time. A girl. He'd been nearly eighteen, and very much a man.
"What are you thinking?'' he asked.
"About how you got this." She touched the scar.
He grimaced. "I should have been paying attention. I knew they were following me, but you distracted me."
"Did I? Really?" She didn't bother pretending not to be pleased.
"Oh, Megan, if you only knew the truth." Sadness doused some of the fire in his eyes.
"Justin, don't. Don't think about it. Don't think about anything right now. Please." She didn't know what else to do, so she bent her head toward him and kissed him.
At the first touch of her lips, he squeezed her tighter against him. As she parted her mouth and eased her tongue inside of him, he shifted her slightly so that she was flat against him and her legs slipped down along his. He supported her with his arms wrapped tightly around her waist.
He answered her kiss and the past faded away, leaving nothing but the feelings between them. When he flexed his hips, she felt the hard ridge she'd thought about. It pressed into her belly, sending an odd aching up her thighs. Noth-
Jing seemed to help and squirming against him only made it worse. He groaned low in his throat. She felt him moving, then he lowered himself to the bed. Her knees bent and she found herself straddling his lap. The moist, aching part of her came in contact with his maleness and she jumped.
He grinned. "Scared?"
"Of course not."
His smile faded. "You never were a good liar." He reached up for the ribbon of her corset cover and pulled the edge of the bow. "The first time is painful," he said quietly, staring into her eyes.
She swallowed. "All right."
"I've heard it can be a slight pressure or a lot of pain. I can't tell you which."
"You can't make it not hurt?"
He shook his head. "I wish I could, Megan. I'd do anything for you/'
