Holding his gaze, Aurora gathered her courage and slowly bent down to touch his warm lips with her own.
Nicholas remained frozen, as if startled into immobility. "Are you really serious?" he asked finally.
She answered with false calmness. "Quite serious. You said I should take more risks. Well, I intend to, beginning now. Will you lie back, please?"
When she reached out to press him down, he grasped her hand, holding it away from his body.
With a nervous laugh, Aurora straightened. "You aren't afraid of me, are you, Nicholas?" she murmured in a low voice that was intentionally challenging.
He narrowed his heated eyes. "Just what do you plan to do?"
"Ease your lust." Her hand pressed again on his chest. "And perhaps enjoy a taste of revenge. You delight in tormenting me. Well, it is my turn to torment you. Turnabout is fair play, after all. Now lie back."
He did as ordered, but his husky voice held a warning. "Aurora, I am not a saint. If you don't want to make love, then I strongly suggest you end this game right now."
She let her lips curl in a smile as she unfastened the buttons of his coat, even though she felt clumsy with nerves.
"A saint is the last thing I would call you, Nicholas. And I want to play this game… Only I set the rules."
She slowly undid his waistcoat buttons and pushed aside the lapels. She could feel his heartbeat beneath the fine cambric of his shirt; warmth, life lay under her fingertips, reassuring as well as arousing. "The first rule is that you aren't to touch me."
"What if I don't want to play by your rules?"
"Oh, I think you will."
Her hand moved lower, to his hard abdomen. She hesitated a moment. Then clutching his shirt, she loosened the hem from the waistband of his breeches and drew it up till his stomach was completely bare.
When Nicholas shifted his weight uneasily, Aurora frowned in warning. "Lie still."
He obliged as she lightly stroked his taut belly, his skin hot beneath her palm. But when she slid her fingers into his waistband, his entire body tensed. Her courage swelled.
"Does this hurt?" she asked, slightly taunting.
"You know it doesn't, witch," he ground out.
She withdrew her hand, but she could tell he was already aroused; she could feel the enormous bulge under his breeches as her fingers worked the buttons.
"If you expect me to be still while you touch me like that," he said hoarsely, "you should think again."
"If you move, I shall stop," Aurora replied serenely.
He gritted his teeth as she opened his breeches and moved on to the buttons of his drawers. When a moment later she parted the fabric, his quivering length sprang from the dark gold curls of his groin.
Aurora felt her breath catch. He was stunning, with the moonlight silvering the hard planes and muscles of his body.
She might have little experience, but she knew what would happen when she touched him. How a soft caress would make his muscles bunch and tighten. How the lightest brush of her fingertips across his belly would make him quiver. How his skin would flush with heat and his male flesh grow rigid…
I stroke the thickening swell of your hardness and feel no shame. You have taught me desires of the flesh, sensitized my body to pleasure, burning away all inhibition.
She knew.
She kept her gaze trained on his manhood, at the shaft that was already thickly engorged, yet she wasn't as tranquil as she pretended. Her heart was pounding as she ran her hand lightly down his torso, following the feathery trail of hair over his belly, caressing him the way he'd taught her on their wedding night.
It fascinated her, the contrasts beneath her fingers – the sinewy hardness of his stomach… the velvet steel of his manhood… the downy softness of the sacs beneath. He jerked slightly when she touched him there, the heavy testicles tightening as she cupped him lightly.
"Aurora…" he rasped.
Enthralled by his response, she extended her exploration. With trembling fingers she moved upward, rimming the engorged crest of his arousal, teasing the sensitive ridge. When he shivered at her touch, she grew bolder, tracing the sleek contours, stroking the throbbing length, so swollen with heat.