Untouched

How much longer could this go on? Surely he must soon finish.

He seemed to shudder over her endlessly.

His weight and the force of his release jammed her deep into the mattress. His eyes were closed and lines of ferocious concentration marked his expression. The smell of his sweat was sharp in her nostrils.

He’d moved into a world that held only his own pleasure. He was unaware of her except as a receptacle for a lifetime of pent-up lust.

She winced as rarely used muscles between her legs protested the hard invasion. Hoping to spur him to end sooner, she lifted her knees.

The fault for this disaster lay squarely with her.

It wasn’t fair to blame Matthew. He’d tried to cling to honor. She was the one who had lured him on, even when she should have guessed this acrid disappointment waited.

She’d wanted more. When clearly no more was to be had.

Black bitterness filled her soul.

She’d given up so much for this.

For nothing.

What else had she expected? She was such a fool. She knew what the sexual act was like. She’d had nine years to get used to a man grunting over her. It wasn’t like anything new happened tonight.

What made everything worse were those fleeting moments when she’d wondered if there might be more.

When he’d kissed her neck and an electric thrill had sizzled right to her toes. When he’d touched her breast and a profane part of her had longed for him to take her in his mouth. Most of all, when he’d first moved inside her and she’d felt the approach of…something.

Something miraculous.

The blazing instant had crumbled to dust.

Then it was just Grace Paget on her back while a man thudded into her. Exactly like those infrequent occasions when Josiah had asserted his marital rights.

She closed her eyes and prayed that the act would soon be over. Just as she’d prayed when Josiah took her. But the unshed tears behind her eyelids were new.

Eventually, finally, Matthew finished. With another deep groan, he slumped onto her. He buried his face in her shoulder so his sweat-soaked hair brushed her ear, her cheek, her neck. He trembled with exhaustion and his chest heaved as he struggled for air.

The smells of sex and well-exercised male swirled around them. She knew instinctively that he’d poured everything he had into her. The evocative thought made her raise her hands to embrace him. Then disappointment jabbed like a needle again and she let her hands fall back.

He was heavy, although not unbearably so. She sank down into the bedding. She was hot and sticky and felt uncomfortably stretched where he was joined to her.

He was a much…bigger man than Josiah. Her first glimpse of his nakedness had set her nerves buzzing with apprehension. She couldn’t imagine that huge member fitting inside her.

His commanding size had heightened her excitement. Then.

Now she felt suffocated.

She desperately wanted dominion over her own body again. Briefly, she touched his shoulder. His damp skin was hot under her palm. “Matthew, I can’t breathe.”

Slowly, he raised his head. His honey eyes were sleepy and his expression made her think of a well-fed lion. A well-fed, very satisfied lion.

“Grace, you are a marvelous woman,” he said thickly.

The compliment didn’t please her, although she couldn’t have said why.

“Even marvelous women need air,” she said with asperity.

Oh, Grace, that was unworthy of you.