Page 83 of Bound
I shift. “Amoret, I …” Gods, how to say this without scaring the hell out of her? “I don’t know how to be gentle. I don’t know how to go slow, to be tender. You deserve someone who can be those things for you.”
Her lips part.
“The things I want from you …” I turn my head away, trying to hide the need inside me.
“You fear you will hurt me?” Her words are so soft, so tentative.
I nod as my throat tightens.
“I can take your fire, Gage. The rest … I have little experience with. But I want to try.”
Oh gods.
My head pivots slowly to gaze down at her with horror swirling in my gut. “You’re a virgin?”
Her lips mottle, but her nod is slow. Jerky.
Shit.
I sag, sickened even more by how many ways I want to take her. How many times I would need to be inside her for this ache to ease.
She presses her hands to my cheeks, mirroring my hold on her. “I expect discomfort, Gage. I know enough about these things to know that sometimes it can be uncomfortable the first time. But nothing can ache more than what I feel now.”
“You ache?” The words are a whisper.
She lets go to press her fingertips just above the juncture of her thighs. “Here. And deeper.”
My nostrils flare, detecting the rich lull of feminine musk with her orange and rose scent. The combination weakens my knees and my resolve flees.
“I can’t promise not to scare you, Amoret. To not hurt you.” I exhale in a long, ragged push that leaves me quaking like an untried lad before his first lover. “But if anything bothers you, you say the word, and I will stop.”
I will.
For her.
Though her eyes widen a bit, she steps back, face rosy in the dimness. “There is no stopping. I want you, Gage. All of you.” With trembling hands, she reaches for the belt to her robe.
I grip her cooler fingers. “Let me.”
Her hands fall to her sides, fingers curling into her palms as she holds herself taut.
Gods. Am I going to do this?
With her?
I tug at the belt, opening the silk to bare the lace beneath.
The gown is even lovelier against her flushed skin. And the little bows atop her thighs suit her. Feminine, sweet.
Amoret.
I push the robe from her shoulders and it falls to the floor. She watches me in silence, her gaze locked on mine. “I don’t want to take this off, yet,” I say, running my fingertip down the strap of her gown.
Her eyes flutter. “Okay,” she breathes.
My hand slides over the side of her neck to hold her nape. I kiss her lips until she raises on tiptoe to reach me better. Then I trail my mouth from hers to her cheek. Her jaw. Tilting her head back, I lave my tongue from the delicate curve of her ear to where her slim shoulder meets her throat. Then I kiss my way back up. Her sigh makes my length ache.
Her skin is so soft. So flawless. I could spend hours kissing her all over and never tire of it.
I slip the strap of her gown off her shoulder, winding my arm around her waist to raise her against me. She is so small in comparison. Light. I press my hand into her spine, arching her more as I lower my head to her collarbone. My lips trail over the lace covering her. She writhes in my hold. Every brush of her body makes mine weep.
Kneeling at her feet, I flick my eyes up to hers as I find one rosy nipple under the lace. Light spills into her irises.
My lips brush her nipple and her legs buckle. I hold her tight. My tongue flicks out, dampening the fabric as I swirl and taste her through the lace. She jerks and her lashes lower. I suck the taut bud between my lips. She screams my name and begins to fall.
I grab her fast, keeping her in place. “Do you want me to stop?” I ask, tone rough.
Her eyes dart and the heat under her skin grows. One small hand slides against the back of my head and she urges me back to her breast.
My lips curve in a feral smile, and I drop my head to feast at her flesh.
