Page 66 of The Bachelor
“The better to hold you with,” he rasped.
But when she reached for his trouser buttons, he stayed her hand. “Don’t,” he said firmly. “I have a great many uglier scars than the ones on my chest.”
“Do I strike you as a woman who would grow faint to see them?”
“You wouldn’t be the first.” When she frowned, he hobbled to the bed and sat down heavily on it so he could take off his boots. “As I told you, I haven’t been chaste all these years. Although the only time I tried to lie with a woman after I was wounded, she was . . . shocked enough by my scars to beg me to . . . er . . . leave.”
Gwyn was outraged on his behalf. “Whowasthis woman?”
He thrust his bad leg out in front of him. “A merry widow in Leicester.”
“Well, that is ridiculous! Clearly, she had never been privy to your . . . skills at lovemaking, or she wouldn’t have been so squeamish.”
He smiled faintly. “Don’t say that. You still haven’t seen my scars.”
She kicked off her shoes, but when she started to untie her garters, he said, “Leave them on. The sight of you in your stockings drives me out of my mind.”
“The thought of driving you out of your mind drives me out ofmine,” she said with a laugh. She walked up to where he still sat on the bed, and he caught her to him so he could suck her breasts, which he did with great enthusiasm. Without leaving the bed, he unbuttoned his trousers and drawers, then shoved them down just enough to expose his thrusting member. But before she could even get a good look at it, he pulled her onto his lap.
“What are you doing?” she asked. “I want to see your—”
“Later,” he clipped out.
“But surely my sitting here makes your leg ache.”
“Do I look as if I’m in pain?” he rasped, and began caressing her breasts with great skill.
So she gave in. If he didn’t want her to see his damaged leg, she would acquiesce. She didn’t want him flinching at every touch or reading too much into her curiosity. She wanted him making love to her the way she knew instinctively he could.
“Straddle me,” he ordered her, his face lit with anticipation. “Please.”
The idea caught her in its snare, thrilling the part of her that must surely be a harlot, no matter what he said. She wasn’t entirely certain how straddling him would work, but Lord help her, she wanted to find out.
He held her by the waist and guided her into position until she was kneeling on the bed on either side of his hips, with her bottom resting on his upper thighs. Then it dawned on her what he was aiming for.
Heavens. She’d never imagined such a thing until this moment.
“Come down on me,” he ordered, in that low rumble of a voice that seduced her every time, “I need to be inside you.”
She hesitated. “You’re sure I won’t hurt you?”
“If you don’t stop asking about whether you’re hurting me, I swear—” He broke off when he saw her flinch. “My bad leg is stretched out—you’re not putting any weight on the part that might hurt. And honestly, you’ll hurt me more if youdon’ttake me inside you.”
So she did. And the feeling of it was exquisite. He filled her up so completely that she thought she might melt all over him. “Oh, Joshua . . .” She wriggled a bit, seeking to fit herself better on him.
He groaned. “God save me. You’re so tight and warm . . . I may not survive this.”
“Iamhurting you!” she cried.
“Absolutely not,” he growled, and held her still when she tried to rise off him. “But if you can move up like that and then down . . . Yes, that’s it, dearling. Move . . . exactly like that. For God’s sake, do it . . . again . . . before I lose my mind.”
“Ohhh . . .right. . .” She was such a fool. It might have been years since she’d been bedded, but she did remember the moving part.
And as she started to slide up and down on him, he closed his eyes in an expression of unadulterated pleasure. “Yes, ride me,” he said hoarsely. “Like that, yes. You have no idea how long I’ve . . . imagined having you atop me like this.”
She flashed him a tremulous smile. “You certainly hid it well enough.”
“I’m not . . . hiding it now, am I? God, it feels . . . good.”
