He ached to touch her but reined in the impulse. Her face hovered so close, it was a blur, but he felt the brush of her breath and her hand caressed his cheek with what he still read as tenderness.
Idiot, Ashcroft.
He fisted a silky hank of her hair and rubbed it against his cheek. He waited for her to speak, but she remained silent apart from her uneven breathing.
She pulled away until her features came into focus. The tenderness in her touch shone in her face. He wasn’t blockhead enough to mistake that.
He tried to stem the tide of warmth that flooded his heart.
Her brows drew together, creating a faint line on her forehead. Swimming in the darkness of her eyes, he saw trouble. He forced his sluggish brain to work. Was something wrong?
“What is it, Diana?” he asked roughly, cursing the delay but unwilling to let her continue if she genuinely didn’t want to do this.
As clearly as if she drew the curtains in a house at evening, he watched her conceal her expression. Suspicion tightened his gut, but he was too close to the edge to heed it.
She smiled, but the beautiful honesty was absent. “I’m ne
rvous. I’ve never done this before.”
He told himself that made sense. His assurances rang hollow. He tightened his hold on her hair. “Trust me.”
“Ashcroft…” she said shakily. Her slender throat moved as she swallowed. The erratic pulse fluttered at the base of her neck.
“What is it?”
For one electric second, he thought she meant to say something momentous. Confess some sin. Reveal some secret. Open her heart.
The second vanished.
The glance she cast him was pure seduction. The tremulous moment of uncertainty might never have existed. He tried to tell himself he’d imagined it. He knew better.
As she placed a hot openmouthed kiss on his chest, he couldn’t summon will to pursue his curiosity. Her soft lips moving on his skin, the dampness of her breath, the lick of her tongue threatened to banish any thought but desire.
If only he wasn’t sure she worked to achieve that end.
She gently bit his nipple. Sensation crashed through him like a carriage running him down at full tilt. Her tongue soothed the sting. He released her hair to let her pay the same attention to his other nipple. He didn’t need to voice the invitation aloud.
She lifted her head, briefly met his gaze, and straddled him. Myriad impressions fed his dazed senses. The warm drift of her hair, a silky tickle across his bare chest. The rustle of her skirts. The slide of silk against his flanks. The waft of scent, hot with arousal. His cock jerked even as his nostrils flared.
His hands clenched in the sheets as he fought the urge to roll her under him and thrust hard. Every second they’d been apart, he’d wanted her. This delay was excruciating.
She trailed her mouth down his stomach. He drew breath so hard, his belly turned to rock. Much more delay, and promises be damned. He’d have her.
A strangled groan escaped. “For God’s sake, don’t make me wait,” he forced past a jaw aching with tension.
“Patience,” she said, and his heart lurched at the laughter in her voice.
He ground his teeth with frustration. “You ask the impossible.”
Still, she incited him with pleasurable licks and bites across his belly. She slipped down, coiling over his body. Still, she took her time, tasting him, experimenting, testing what set him shivering with need.
He shook like a man with malaria. Sweat sprang onto his skin. His heart raced fit to burst. His lungs ached as he dragged in every breath.
This inexperienced woman drove him to the limit. He hadn’t been as wild since he was a randy adolescent slavering after the dairymaids at Vesey Hall.
After what felt like a millennium, she curled her fingers once more around his straining cock. He trembled under her touch, not far from losing himself. Only the last vestiges of rapidly fading masculine pride stopped him spilling into her hand.
“Christ,” he whispered, not sure if it was curse or prayer.