Polly climbed into the bed, pulling the coverlet up over her. As she watched from her little burrow beneath the blankets, Oliver crossed the norm and very quickly had a blaze roaring in the fireplace. When he turned back to her, he didn't immediately stride toward her. Instead, he tugged his shirt over his head—tossing the garment to a nearby chair.
She couldn't breathe. That was the first thought that entered Polly's mind. In truth, she was a little ashamed of just how long it took for even that simple thought to form. He was, in a word, magnificent. She'd spent enough time in the country, watching men work in the fields, to know that his body had not been honed to such perfection by sitting behind a desk at a solicitor's firm. Nor was it the physique of an idle aristocrat.
"What do you do? "she asked softly.
“Boxing," he replied, not pretending that he didn’t understand. "The law is my occupation but not my life. I struggle with being inactive.”
He had walked towards her as he spoke. Polly reached for his hand, pulling it up to inspect it. She examined the scarred knuckles there with a slight frown. This is no gentleman's hobby.”
He shrugged, but with a slight grin added, ”The law does not pay exceptionally well. Fighting, however, can be quite lucrative— And I'm very good at it. If I am to support myself and not live off my brother— or marry for money, then I do what I must.”
Polly said nothing more. Instead, she lifted his hand to her lips and kissed the thin white scars that were layered over his knuckles. “You should not have to work so hard.”
At having his own words thrown back at him, his lips quirked upward into a smile. But then there was no room for humor. He withdrew his hand from hers and knelt on the bed, easing beneath the covers with her. For the longest moment, neither of them moved. They simply remained there, cocooned together beneath those blankets, as the fire chased the chill from the room.
Then he kissed her again, his lips moving over hers tenderly. At times coaxing, at others challenging, and others still with a kind of reverence that left her trembling. He touched her as if she were precious in some way, something to be cherished and treasured.
Polly wrapped herself around him, instinctively. In truth, she would have crawled inside him if she could have. The heat and strength of him seeped into her, making her feel whole, making her feel wanted. It was unlike anything she had ever known.
But then all thought fled. His lips were no longer moving sweetly over hers. Instead, they were coasting along her neck, down to her collarbone, then lower still. Her chemise slipped from her shoulder, baring her breasts. But there was no chill. There was only the heat of his mouth on her, closing over that taut peak until an exquisite ache filled her. She moved beneath him, arching up to increase the points of contact between them. Craving more of him, she wrapped her arms around him, holding him close.
“I said we would not rush,” he murmured against her skin, “but you will make a liar of me.”
“Haven’t I waited long enough?”
He laughed at that. “I suppose you have… but if you can wait for only a few moments more, I promise it will be even better.”
Even as he uttered those words, his hand was sliding over the tender skin of her thigh, up and up until his fingers brushed the soft curls at the juncture of her thighs. She couldn’t stifle the shocked gasp that escaped her at that contact. But as his fingertips danced over her flesh, that gasp became a soft, pleasured moan.
“What are you doing to me?” she whispered.
“Only things you will enjoy, I hope,” he said, sliding one finger inside her.
Polly had never felt such pleasure. Certainly, she had touched herself before. Under the cover of darkness, quietly and with no small amount of shame, but it had never felt like this. Nothing in her own limited explorations could have prepared her for the things he was making her feel.
Polly’s head fell back against the pillows, her eyes fluttered closed and she simply gave herself up to the maelstrom of sensations he was creating within her.
* * *
He’d never seen a morebeautiful sight than Polly giving in to her passions. The play of emotions on her face, the sweet sounds of her pleasure—she was exquisite. Every stroke, every caress, was committed to memory, until he knew what made her sigh, what made her gasp, what made her moan. And with each passing second, she climbed closer and closer to the pinnacle. And when her release claimed her, her body quivering with the pleasure of it, he savored that moment, reveling in it. But it only fired his blood further, making him crave her even more.
When he could wait no longer, Oliver moved between her parted thighs. Immediately, she lifted her legs, locking them about him and pulling him even closer.
“You could tempt a saint, Polly,” he whispered. “And I am no saint.”
She smiled up at him. “Saints hold no interest for me… but solicitors with battered hands—that’s another matter.”
He kissed her then, claiming her mouth with a ruthlessness that shocked him. She drove him to the very brink of his control and beyond, without any effort at all it seemed. His desire for her was like a living thing inside him, clawing and growling as it fought its way free.
Struggling to be gentle, to ease his way, he parted the soft folds and pressed into her. The heat of her was heady and intoxicating. Pressing deeper still, the tight clutch of her flesh around his had him gritting his teeth. And then he encountered just a bit of resistance, such a small thing, that he had he not been so perfectly attuned to her he might have missed the way she stiffened beneath him. Her quickly indrawn breath might have fallen on deaf ears. But he was aware, he was focused on her to the exclusion of all else. So he stilled immediately.
“I hurt you,” he said, kissing her cheek tenderly. “I didn’t want that.”
She shook her head slightly. “Far less than you think, I suspect. I anticipated that it would be painful… and my fear, for only a second, got the better of me.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
“Then make me forget that it hurt,” she said. “Because it already feels different… different and marvelous.”
