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He loosened his stupid tie and pulled it over his head, tossing it aside with abandon.
She dragged her thumb down the slide of her dress, allowing it to fall open and reveal her lacy underthings.
His own hands froze on the buttons of his shirt as he gazed at the soft beauty of her curves. Everything in him roared and sang for him to claim her.
Her eyes were cast down modestly, as if she were afraid she might not meet with his approval.
He moved to her, taking her hands.
“Naomi,” he murmured, his voice deep with wanting. “You are so beautiful.”
She squeezed his hands and lifted her chin to meet his eyes.
“If you aren’t ready…” he began.
But her hands were moving on his chest, her small fingers delicately releasing the buttons as he tried his best to hold still. When she was finished, he shrugged the shirt off and let it fall to the ground.
She slid her hands down to his belt, but he caught her wrists to stop her.
“Let me concentrate on you first,” he whispered, cupping her face in his hand.
Her skin was so soft, like the petal of a flower.
When he leaned down to brush her lips with his, he was so gentle that he barely touched her.
Then her hands were on his shoulders, and she was up on her toes, pressing her lips insistently to his.
He swallowed back a roar of desire and slid his hands to her hips, holding her still even as he longed for her to move against him. He was rigid with lust already, nearly shaking with need and he hadn’t even tasted her.
Mate…
The word echoed in his head again, and this time he wasn’t so sure it was wrong.
He had never felt this way before. Never. Not even in the arms of the first woman who had taken his pleasure.
Naomi moaned lightly against his mouth, and he thumbed her jaw open, plundering her sweet mouth with his tongue, forgetting the need to treat her like something delicate.
But if she was hurt, she did not show it. Instead, she wrapped her thighs around his waist and pressed her breasts to his chest.
The dual sensations of scratchy lace and warm, soft woman overwhelmed his senses.
He carried her to the bed and placed her down as gently as he could, crawling in to cage her body under his.
“Are you ready to make a baby, Naomi?” he growled.
She nodded, but she was biting her lower lip.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, willing himself to slow down.
“I… I’ve never done this before,” she whispered.
“Never?” he echoed, shocked. “But you’re a beautiful young woman. You’ve never wanted to share your bed?”
“Where I come from, women wait until after the arrival of their primary heir before consorting with men,” she told him. “And I… I couldn’t…”
Gods, forgive him. She couldn’t conceive in the clinics. That was why she was here.
Fighting like an animal against his screaming body and longing heart, he pulled back slightly.
