Page 47 of Peregrine's Call
Robin slid her leg over his before she realized what she was doing. All she knew was that she instinctively wanted to mold her body to match his as closely as she could.
“Educate yourself,” he challenged her. “Touch me.”
Under the covers, she let her hands slide over his upper body, his arms, his shoulders. She reveled in the feel of him, the smoothness of his skin over most of his body, and even the dozens of faint scars and scratches where he’d suffered injuries over the years. She traced the lines made by the hidden muscles, smiling as she went.
“I don’t know what to do next,” she said.
“It’s not a test,” he told her. “You can do whatever you like.”
“And you won’t tell me it’s a sin?” she asked.
“It is,” he said simply. “But it’s a sin I seem destined for, so how can I pretend that I don’t want to sin with you?”
Robin felt the thrill of victory run through her. “Then tell me exactly how you want to sin.”
“It would take too long. I’d waste the whole night talking and never get to any of the sinning.” He smiled and pushed her hair away from her face. “Lie back, and I’ll show you one sin I’ve been dreaming of.”
She rolled so she was on her back, and he shifted to his side. Then he lowered his head to begin a trail of kisses along her chest until his tongue met her nipple.
Robin let out a whimper of pleasure because whatever he was doing stirred a heat inside her belly. He licked her nipple over and over, the tip of his tongue swirling around it, keeping the bud hard and responsive. Robin felt warm and weak and utterly adored.
“Now the other one,” she ordered softly.
He laughed low in his throat and kissed his way to her other breast, treating that nipple to the same gentle pleasure.
“That feels wonderful,” she whispered, her hand resting on his shoulder. She decided she adored his shoulders.
“I’ve been wanting to taste you,” he said, his breath hot against her skin. “I never should have kissed you that one night, Robin, because since then I’ve only wanted more.”
Their bodies were pressed together, his muscled frame holding her close. She felt how hard he was, and curiosity overcame her. “Can I touch you?” she whispered.
“You’re already touching me,” he whispered back, teasing.
Robin slid her hand from his shoulder to lower on his body, down to his stomach, where she paused. “I meant…” Was he going to keep teasing her? He was going to make her say something crude, something that Robin never said to a man except as an insult hurled in the heat of a fight.
But he didn’t make her say another word. He lay back on the bed, then put a hand over her own and drew it downward, leading her to his erection.
He let out a shaky breath as soon as she curled her fingers around the hard shaft. Curious, she began to touch him, noticing how every little move seemed to drive him to distraction.
She said, “Is this how it’s typically done?”
“Who cares,” he responded. “All I know is that I love the way you touch me, and I don’t care if it’s typical or not.”
“Oh,” she said with a little sigh. “Good. I just didn’t want to make a mistake and turn you away.”
He laughed, his voice warming her. “No chance. Keep doing what you’re doing, and I’ll never turn away.”
She smiled and continued to stroke him. When she ran her hand up to the tip of him, though, he grabbed her hands and sat up in the bed. From that angle, she had a perfect view of his whole upper body, outlined in firelight.
“Did I do something wrong?” she asked.
“Not at all. If you’d been using your mouth, you’d have finished me just then.”
“Oh.” Robin knew exactly what he meant—she’d lived among numerous people in close quarters, and she’d glimpsed women pleasuring men in that way. She’d just never done it herself. “Would you want me to? Use my mouth?”
He pulled her over to him, laid a soft kiss on her neck, just below her ear, before answering. “Yes, but that falls under the rubric of acts you’re not ready for yet.”
“Shouldn’t I decide that?” she objected.
