Emma's Wish

Sam resumed his pacing. There had to be a way to get through to her that what he felt for her was definitely not pity. Lust, desire, love - those emotions he recognized. Pity wasn't anywhere close to what he felt when he looked at her. But she wouldn't believe him.

"What I'm feeling right now isn't pity. I love you. And I want you more than I've ever wanted a woman. I want to know every inch of your body. I want to give you babies of your own."

In the golden glow of the lamp, Emma's face flushed.

"I'm a patient man, Emma, but dammit, the thought of living the rest of my life like this ..." His voice trailed off and he turned towards the bureau. Didn't she have any idea how hard it was for him to admit how he felt? Hell, he'd been hurt before, too. If he was willing to take the chance, then why couldn't she?

"We made a deal," she murmured. "This wasn't supposed to happen."

Sam turned. "But it did."

Emma's gaze lowered. The wedding ring pattern on the quilt seemed to mock her, to mock their whole relationship. They were married, both in the eyes of the law and of the church. He had rights. He had the right to take her, willingly or not. Yet he hadn't. He'd kept his part of the bargain, even though she'd seen the tightness in his trousers several times when her glance happened to flit in that direction.

Didn't that show he was trustworthy? Didn't that show he cared about her feelings? Perhaps she'd been wrong. If only she wasn't so afraid ... not only of trusting him, but of the mysteries of marital relations. He'd had a wife, and quite probably had known other woman even before his marriage. He knew what to do. She had no idea how to please a man. Even if she could tuck the fear away, she didn't have the knowledge she needed to satisfy him physically.

"I ... don't know how ..."

Sam slid back into bed, inching over until the fabric of her nightdress grazed his bare chest. Reaching up, he cupped her chin, his thumb gently wiping the dampness from her cheek. "Let me show you. Let me teach you."

Her head listed to the side, resting in his palm. Gently, he loosened the hair ribbon and ran his fingers through her silky blonde braid as it fell into waves across his hand and down his bare arm.

Leaning forward, he kissed her, his lips whisper-soft against hers, then moved to trail kisses along the line of her jaw. His lips found her earlobe, and he gently nibbled it. He heard her breath catch, and she began to tremble. But she didn't ask him to stop.

Sam felt her hand touch his waist, tentatively at first, then reach around. Her fingertips splayed across his back, the heat of her touch like a branding iron. He paused in his ministrations for a moment. He'd take things as slow as she wanted. "You okay, honey?" he asked.

Emma was more than okay. A delicious warmth was spreading through her, and every nerve ending seemed to be on edge. Waiting.

Sam's lips returned to her mouth, teasing first her bottom lip, then the top.

The pressure tantalized her, and she shifted, moving into his kiss, surprised that she wanted more. Her breath hitched when she felt his tongue move against the seam of her mouth. She was unsure of what she was expected to do, and when she opened her mouth to ask, his tongue slipped inside.

Mercy! She couldn't contain the soft moan that escaped. As his tongue filled her mouth, Emma realized what was happening. His gentle touch, the feel of his chest brushing against the thin cotton of her nightdress, the taste of his tongue ... This was what she'd waited for her whole life. But could she trust him enough ...?

She held on, sliding down in the bed, taking Sam with her. Turning to her side, she strained against him, feeling his hardness against the junction of her thighs.

Sam's hands caressed her neck, her face, as his lips found the hollow in her throat where her pulse fluttered wildly. His lips dipped into the opening of her nightdress and his hand brushed the underside of her breast. She gasped as he took her fullness into his hand and grazed the hardened nub with his thumb.

Sam was no saint, and it was taking every ounce of self control not to tear off her nightdress and bury himself inside her right then. But he had to let her set the pace. He heard her breath catch as he took her breast into his palm, and he half expected her to push him away. He was surprised when instead, her fingertips clenched his shoulders. His mouth shifted, trailing kisses across the satiny swell of her breast, and took the nipple into his mouth.

She moaned, a hungry little sound.

He lifted his head and kissed her again, his tongue meeting hers. She moved against him, and he felt her hands on his chest. He sucked in a sharp breath as her fingers grazed his nipple.

She pulled away. "Do ... I sh

ouldn't touch you ..."

Sam groaned. "Oh, honey, you can touch me anywhere, any time you have a mind to."

She smiled softly, then stretched against him and shifted until his hardness strained against the soft flesh at the juncture of her thighs.

Heat suffused him, spilling down into his groin. He couldn't wait much longer. His arousal was becoming almost painful.

Reaching down, he found the hem of her nightdress. It had bunched around her knees, and he and slipped his hand beneath it, his fingers grazing the soft flesh of her thigh.

The heat of his hands scorched her, and she gasped, tearing her mouth away from his kiss. This was all happening too fast. Never before had she wanted a man as much as she wanted Sam. She'd heard tales about what took place in the marriage bed, and now, for the first time, she understood how all-consuming desire could be. She'd had no idea being intimate with a man could be like this. His hands - and his lips - were creating havoc with her senses.

"Emma, I want to see you. I want to feel your skin against mine." As he breathed the words, his lips burned a line of kisses across her chest towards her other breast. His hands bunched the fabric of her nightdress and he began to pull it up over her hips. "Lift your behind so we can get rid of all these clothes," he whispered.