Page 59 of The Dangerous Love of a Rogue
‘There is no need to be afraid, Mary. I just do not want us to have to undress awkwardly in the bed. It would make things less enjoyable for you.’
Every limb trembled as she pushed back the covers and climbed off the bed, but she would not be a coward.
He stepped close and kissed her, his hand at her waist over her nightgown. The touch was not intimate and yet it felt intimate because she had nothing on beneath the fine cotton.
He broke the kiss and smiled. The candlelight from the candelabrum beside the bed reflected in his eyes, turning them gold. ‘Do you want to remove your nightdress or shall I take it off?’
‘You may,’ she said bravely, her chin tilting up and denying her fear.
His fingers held the cotton of her nightgown at either side of her thighs and lifted.
Her breath trapped in her lungs as the cotton brushed quickly across her skin. She raised her arms so it would come off easily.
When she stood naked, the air in the room raised goosebumps on her skin and made her shiver, even though it was not cold.
He dropped her nightgown on the floor, not stopping to stare; he understood her embarrassment. He kissed her shoulder and her neck, his hands touching her waist as they had when she was clothed. He kissed her cheek and then her lips.
The trembling in her limbs eased. Perhaps the wine had helped because with the room spinning, it was hard to be too conscious of anything but the sensations he stirred inside her.
His hands slid up to her breasts and his thumbs brushed her nipples.
Her body arched towards him, her head tilting back as his kisses trailed from her mouth to her neck. Then he stopped.
She sighed.
He straightened.
‘Lie down…’
He looked hazy through her wine-tinted gaze.
She sat on the bed and shuffled back to the far side as he undid the buttons of his flap.
At least she had seen that part of him before. But that did not stop the heat burning in her cheeks.
He slid off his trousers and underwear in one movement.
Her stomach tumbled upside down at the sight of his masculinity, the muscles in his thighs and buttocks and the part of him that on her brothers had hung limp but on him stood proud. His body was more handsome than the life-size marble statues in John’s collection.
She swallowed, trying to clear the dryness from her throat.
‘Lie back,’ he said, as his first knee rested on the bed, denting the mattress, and he climbed up.
She swallowed again as she lay awkwardly, with one knee bent but standing upright and one knee bent but resting slackly to the side.
‘Relax, sweetheart.’
She nodded, though her muscles refused to relax.
He knelt beside her, his gaze skimming over her body. ‘You are perfect.’
‘So are you.’
He smiled. ‘No. I am not. But I do think you are.’
He came down on all fours, his head lowered and he kissed her breast first.
The candles beside the bed flickered. Tremors that felt like the flicker of a flame raced through her body.
