Page 50 of The Redemption of Remy St. Claire

She shifted, and as desperately as he wanted to look, he didn’t.

“You know, don’t you? That it’s really as good as they say.”

“Yeah, Remy, I know.” He owed her honesty, at the very least. “My wife and I had a good sex life. I mean, it took some time. We were virgins when we married, so the first few times were a little awkward. But once we got the hang of it, it was special.”

“And your wife. She enjoyed it too?”

This was like talking to a sixteen-year-old, not a twenty-eight-year-old who knew nothing about making love. She wasn’t a virgin, but she sure wasn’t acting like she knew any better.

“Yes, my wife enjoyed it.” He tried not to get pulled into the memories. “Sometimes she even initiated it. Please, Remy, talk to me. What happened to you? What makes you think sex is such a bad thing?”

“Not for everyone.” The sheets rustled. “Just for me. I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to live with my demons.”

“We’re married now. They’reourburdens.”

She shifted again, this time tentatively placing her hand on his arm. “Show me, Rusty, show me how it can be.”

“Are you sure?” This was one of those moments. A moment he couldn’t afford to get wrong.

“I’m sure.”

Her voice held resolve, but it did little to quiet his discomfort. Tonight wasn’t the right night, but to put the brakes on this now might make her question herself. She was a grown woman, and if she said she was sure, then that ought to be sufficient. Plus, they didn’t have to go all the way. One orgasm. If he could give her one orgasm, then she’d see how she wasn’t frigid.

Because he knew passion lay just below the surface. He’d tasted that passion the night of their engagement. She’d matched his passion with that kiss. That was why he found it unfathomable she believed herself unable to respond.

Maybe there was a physiological reason. Maybe there was a psychological reason. Maybe she was just too much in her own head. That wouldn’t surprise him. She took herself so seriously, sometimes he wondered if she could have fun.

She was loosening up, though. With Calleigh and Mira. Some of that vigilance was lessening. Maybe she needed someone she could trust.

“I’ll never hurt you. You know that, right?”

“I know.”

“May I kiss you?”

“Yes.”

Such a simple word, so replete in meaning. She still touched his arm, so he could orient himself. He wanted to ask her to let him turn the lights on, but he had the distinct impression it’d spook her. Instead, he snaked out his other hand, capturing her wrist in his grasp. He applied the lightest of pressure to the inside of her wrist, and she let go of his arm. He pulled her hand toward him, careful to not make any sudden moves. It took a few moments, but her hand relaxed. He brought her palm to his lips and pressed the lightest of kisses against the smooth skin.

A sharp intake of breath.Good.He’d have to read her cues with care. Words and noises were easier to interpret, but non-verbal cues could be as important. Here, in the dark, sensation reigned supreme.

He darted his tongue on her palm in indiscriminate patterns. When her arm loosened, he began a very slow and leisurely meandering of kisses from her palm to her wrist and to her elbow. Her arm was bare, and although he wanted to explore more to see how much she was wearing, that’d have to wait. For now, he focused on here. His needs, his wants, could all take a back seat tonight. He’d be a little unsatisfied, but that was a small price to pay.

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Okay.” She sounded surprised, like she expected him to do more. He reached out and even in the dark, found her chin. When he tugged her toward him, she came.

The first touch of their lips was a light touch. A promise.

The next was more, but again whisper light.

By the time he came in for a third try, her mouth was open. She was inviting him in, so he applied more pressure with his lips and eased his tongue against hers. She reached up and clasped him around his neck, giving him better access to the recesses of her mouth.

When he pulled away, she moaned, hopefully from frustration.

“Want more, sweetheart?”

Her response was breathy and sweet. “Yes, please.”

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