“Jesus!” he swore softly. With sudden ruthlessness, he ripped the garment off, so he too stood naked.
Her gaze dropped to his erection then fell away, but not before he caught the astonishment in her eyes. Astonishment and apprehension. Hectic color bloomed in her cheeks and she bit her lip, a sure sign of nervousness. She was slightly built and he was a large man.
He couldn’t wait or he risked humiliating himself. But the reminder of her relative innocence meant his touch was gentle as he tipped her back onto the mattress.
She edged up on the sheet, leaving him room to kneel between her legs. As she opened herself, he caught her musky essence. Jasmine and woman. Richer and earthier than her daytime scent. He’d remember the intoxicating combination the rest of his life.
Slowly, she stroked up his arms then curled her fingers around his shoulders. He shifted forward, taking his weight on his hands.
She was rain in the desert. She was a banquet to a starving man. She was Grace.
Her breasts fascinated him. Carefully he touched the furled bud of one nipple.
She gave a low sigh of pleasure and stretched her back against the mattress. She liked this. He glanced his finger across the tight peak, listening to her breath catch.
He skimmed his hand across her belly, down her ribs, along her arms. She moved into each touch as though asking for more.
Did that mean she was ready?
All he had to guide him were his school friends’ smutty speculations. And they were no help at all. Not when he had a real woman in his arms for the first time. Not when the woman was Grace Paget.
He lowered his body against hers and kissed her. But kissing was no longer enough. She moved restlessly as his tongue tangled with hers. Her smooth bare skin slid hot and damp upon his. Her hips tilted in invitation.
He raised himself on both arms and looked down into her face. Her eyes were dark and heavy, almost black.
Was she ready? He didn’t know. If she stopped him now, he didn’t think he’d survive.
He shifted his hips forward and probed at her entrance. The hot, seeking head of his cock met slick moisture. His heart lurched into a hard, heavy rhythm and every muscle in his body clenched.
He pushed.
She was tight, so tight. Her flesh resisted the invasion.
He pushed again.
She gave a soft moan.
He stopped, still poised at her opening. The desperate lungfuls of air he sucked in left him lightheaded and gasping. Jesus, don’t let her stop him now. Not now.
“Are you all right, Grace?” he scraped out in a voice he didn’t recognize as his own.
She shifted so her wet cleft stroked his straining shaft. Bright lights exploded behind his eyes and he almost lost himself.
“You’re too big,” she said unsteadily. “This isn’t going to work.”
Through the blood thundering in his ears, he hardly heard her. He gritted his teeth and battled for control. “Hold on to me,” he almost snarled.
What if he hurt her? What if she changed her mind? It would kill him, but he’d have to stop.
Christ, not yet. Don’t steal this away from me yet.
He bent his head and closed his eyes, his chest heaving, his cock nudging at her.
“Try again, Matthew,” she whispered, digging her fingers into his shoulders to anchor herself.
He raised his head and looked at her. Her eyes flickered with uncertainty and she was shaking. So was he. Every sinew ached with impossible tension.
He tightened his hips and pushed.