Page 37 of Before the Storm
He took her hands and kissed them. “That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Then what?”
Reaching out, he ran his thumb across her lower lip. “May I kiss you?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
He took her mouth in a tender kiss. He had intended it to only last a minute. Maybe two. But he found himself wrappinghis arms around her, pulling her to his chest, and deepening the kiss to the point it was wild and out of control.
Her fingernails dug into his shoulder blades. She leaned into his chest with her knee between his legs.
It took all his resolve not to lift her into his arms and carry her back to bed.
Cupping her face, he reluctantly broke off the kiss. “I want to be with you, but I’m afraid.”
“Why?”
He pressed his forehead to hers and sighed. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I care about you and I don’t want you to get hurt. I’m terrified to say the wrong thing in this moment.”
“I’ve been pregnant four times. I know what sex is.”
“You’re killing me,” he whispered. “What you had with your husband wasn’t making love, much less sex. It was rape and you’re never going to get me to believe it was anything else.”
“Okay, but I do have an idea of what it’s supposed to be like. It’s not like I haven’t spent the last three years of my life watching romantic movies or reading love stories.”
“Oh, sweet Jesus. That’s a lot of pressure if you’re going to try to compare real life to fiction.” He sucked in a deep breath. “You’re so young. You have so much ahead of you.”
“Are you saying you don’t want to take me to bed?”
“Not even close.” He kissed her nose. “Embarrassing question coming. Have you ever experienced sexual pleasure?”
Her face turned five different shades of red.
“I take it that’s a no.”
“Not with a man,” she stammered. “But I… I… I’ve…” She covered her face with her hands.
Gently, he peeled her fingers back. “It’s a good thing that you learned to give that to yourself. Every woman should.”
“I was told it was against God.”
“Let’s leave your old church out of this conversation going forward.” He helped her off the stool and guided her toward the master bedroom. “I want to do something for you—to you—that is only about you. It’s part of sex, but not the act itself. Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” she said.
He pushed open the door. His heart hammered in his chest like a teenage boy. Fear gripped his soul. He wanted to give her the kind of pleasure she deserved. He wanted to make her feel as if she were the most important person in his world. That her emotions were all that mattered.
“If at any time you feel uncomfortable or want me to stop, just tell me. This isn’t about me or my needs. But yours.”
“You must know that statement alone is strange to me.”
“I’m sure it is, but believe me when I say that when two people are together, it’s give and take. My turn will come in time.”
“Okay.”
Gently, he laid her on the mattress. Quickly, he removed his shirt. That would be the only article of clothing of his that he’d be shedding. He slid in next to her, running his hand up over her hip, squeezing gently. “All you need to do is relax, enjoy, and let me know what you like or don’t like.”
He raised her shirt, leaning over and kissing her taut stomach. Her chest rose with each choppy breath. Carefully, he lifted the flimsy fabric over her head, exposing her unsophisticated white bra. It wasn’t a typical sexy undergarment, but it sent his senses into overdrive.
