Page 58 of Lady Gambit
“No, love. Show me everything. We’ve nothing to hide from each other.” Though his voice carried the sheer strength and confidence of his masculinity, the old weakness surfaced.
He had plenty to hide.
Her apprehension pushed to the fore, her little shrug drawing his attention back to her breasts. “Is it normal to be nervous?”
“I’m nervous, too. You’re all I’ve thought about for days.” Though he’d won the fight with his conscience, and her beauty held him spellbound, his scarred skin would repulse her.
“I wantyouto undress me,” she said, pulling the pins from her hair and shaking out the wealth of ebony curls.
God, she stole his breath.
“It would be my pleasure.” His hands were on her in seconds, gathering the hem. If there’d been time, he’d have kissed his way up her thighs, tongued her womanhood, left a scorching trail to her breasts.
“You’re right. It’s a little cold.” She used her arms to cover her modesty as he dropped her chemise on the floor.
“I’ll soon warm you.” He reached for her hands, interlocking their fingers as he spread her arms wide so he could look at every delicious inch of her. His cock swelled. Every muscle in his abdomen tightened. “You’re so beautiful.” So beautiful his lungs ached for air.
“So are you.” She tugged her hands free and began unbuttoning his waistcoat. The minx stroked his cock beforeunknotting his cravat. “Is it wrong to hope Gibbs encounters a herd of cattle blocking the road? I don’t want this day to end.”
He traced his fingers slowly down the curve of her back. “We’re at the mercy of our passions. This might be the first time we make love, but it won’t be the last.”
Staring at the open neck of his shirt, she said, “Is it always like this between lovers?” She drew her fingers gently down his throat to the dusting of dark hair on his chest.
“Like what?” He couldn’t take his eyes off her.
“Magical.”
“Only with you.”
His reply must have given her the courage to be bold. “I need you out of these clothes, Dorian.” She was pulling the fine lawn shirt over his head, unaware of the ugly marks on his back. “Finding missing people must be physically demanding.”
“More frustrating than demanding.”
“Your body is pure muscle.” She slid her arms around his waist, her fingers fluttering over his back while her naked breasts brushed against his chest.
It was the sweetest torture.
His blood burned. He’d never been so hard. But he was waiting for the heat of passion in her eyes to dim, waiting for her to feel the subtle roughness of his skin, the physical record of painful experiences.
“Every man has a vice,” she whispered. “What’s yours?”
“You.” He was addicted to her taste. He craved her touch. Though he knew taking her virginity was wrong, he’d rather perish in hell than deny himself the pleasure.
“Then indulge yourself.” Her voice carried the hum of arousal. But then a frown marred her brow, and her fingers found the marks that had turned him from a boy into a man overnight.
She moved to study his back.
Then he heard the sound he dreaded.
He heard her gasp of pity.
Every part of her body ached to join with him. The hunger writhing in her veins was like a compulsion she had to feed. But the flames of desire cooled the moment she stepped around him and saw the scars on his back.
She couldn’t prevent a gasp from escaping.
Tears sprang to her eyes as she counted the scars. There were four. One long one cutting across his upper back—the skin dark and thick where it had healed. Three smaller ones on his lower back, dissecting the furrow of his spine.
“It’s not pretty,” he said, the words coated with shame.
