Page 65 of Temptations of a Wallflower
And it had been good—when he’d kissed her and touched her intimately. She’d glowed with burgeoning sensation, and it had lured her onward. But it had all been cut short, replaced by discomfort and awkwardness.
“Just a moment.” He rose, nude, from the bed, and she allowed herself the simple pleasure of watching him in the glow of the fire and candlelight. He surely had a body made for sensuality—all lean, sinewed muscle, tight and firm without a trace of softness. His thighs and buttocks were taut and solid. Golden hair curled lightly over his hard chest, and trailed lower, down his belly in a fine line. Until it reached a thatch of tawny curls that surrounded his sated penis.
That made one of them who was satisfied.
Her mouth flattened into a line as she tried to suppress her feelings of being let down. They simply needed more time. Time to discover each other. What they wanted. What they liked. What didn’t work.
Jeremy himself seemed quiet and preoccupied as he crossed the room, his brow furrowed. He did not strut like a proud, pleased man. He walked to the washstand and dipped a cloth in water. Then he returned to the bed.
When he moved to clean her between her legs, she reached for the cloth. “I can do that.”
“Let me,” he murmured.
So she lay back and widened her legs, a trace of shyness skittering through her—though there was no need. He’d seen her now, knew her body. Was there any mystery left?
She half expected his movements to be brisk and businesslike. Instead, he was slow and gentle, caressing her with the damp towel in careful swipes. She sighed and closed her eyes. This was pleasant. More than pleasant. Warmth crept along her veins with each touch of the cloth to her sore quim, both outside and . . . inside.
“I wanted it to be good for you,” he said quietly. He exhaled. “Didn’t quite work out the way I’d planned.”
Should she lie, and say it was everything she’d ever wanted? They expected more from each other—and there were too many untruths between them already. “It will get better,” she said without opening her eyes.
The cloth stilled and was removed. “You’ll let me try again?”
She looked at him. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
“I was a beast,” he said with biting self-recrimination. “I hurt you.”
“To be expected the first time.”
His eyes gleamed with more self-directed anger. “And if I hurt you again?”
She cupped the side of his face, feeling the stubble there against her palm. “You won’t.”
His gaze slid away. “I’m humbled by your faith in me.”
“I have faith inus,” she answered, gently guiding his face around so that their gazes met.
He kissed her, sweetly. Hotly. “I want no regrets between us.”
“And I want the same.” Yet she didn’t quite have the confidence of which she spoke. Doubts continued to sting her, like needles. Would it be better? Would she come to lament her choice? Would he bemoan marrying her? Everything was so much more simple in books. The happy ending was a foregone conclusion. Not so with life. There were no guarantees. No Lady of Dubious Quality guiding the narrative toward a satisfactory finish.
She and Jeremy were silent for a long time. He finally spoke. “I meant what I said before. I’ve wanted you in so many ways for so long.” His cheeks darkened. “I want to try again.” He brushed his lips over hers. “Let me give you more.”
She was sore, and tired, but the need and urgency in him lit a new flame within her. “What would you like?” Her voice had gone low and husky.
His gaze met hers. “Everything.”
There would always be a part of her he could never know, never touch. She wanted to share the rest with him. To belong to another person, and have him belong to her. Mutual possession. She’d ached for it most of her life, and now it was being offered to her. She had only to claim it.
Taking a deep breath, she relaxed herself into the bed, her arms at her sides, her legs parted.
Setting the cloth aside, he bent down and took her mouth in a leisurely, deep kiss. Both languid and powerfully alive, she responded, her nerves sparking to life. A delicate, bright tension wove through her body as his kiss grew bolder, more sure.
Suddenly, she was naked. He whisked away her chemise and cool air touched her all over, stroking her heated flesh. For a moment, he simply looked at her, drinking her in as though she was his first sunrise.
His hands became very curious, exploring her body with a thoroughness that stole time. He touched her everywhere—along her arms, her neck, between and beneath her breasts. Then he stroked her breasts to needy points, gathering sensation at the very tips. The pleasure spread and built with each caress, echoing between her legs in warm pulses. His lips found one nipple, gently licking, sucking. She cradled him to her, arching upward. Yes, there—there was the pleasure she’d craved.
As he twirled his tongue around her nipple, one of his hands drifted down her belly, settling at her quim. His fingers probed and learned, stroking her. There was a moment of aching soreness—but it soon dissolved into sensation as he touched her with tender confidence. He found her clit and circled it. Golden light burst behind her eyelids as he caressed her there, a tenuous but marvelous pleasure. His own self-assurance grew as she moaned in response, as he came to know what she wanted. She showed him with her body—and he learned quickly.
