He’d never undressed an Englishwoman. Never dealt with such complicated garments. His Indian lovers had worn the graceful native costume. He had a sudden yen to see Charis in exotic silks.
One day…
He stepped in front of his bride. She was slender and graceful as a young willow. His gaze traced the lovely curves, returned to her breasts, pushed up by the corset to press against the chemise.
She raised her arms with a gesture of such natural sensuality, his heart jammed in his throat. A few deft tugs, and her hair fell in a curtain of shimmering bronze. Her scent filled the air so thickly, he thought he could touch it.
She blushed under his fiery regard. It surprised him how she suddenly became the shy, inexperienced girl.
She was a shy, inexperienced girl.
He must remember that. The unfettered passion in her kisses was deceptive. He turned her around again and tugged at the corset laces. “Infernal contraption.”
She laughed softly as he finally found the knack of it. Desperation lent his fingers a deftness they’d lacked earlier. He burned to see her body without all these confounded draperies spoiling his view.
Swiftly, he slipped the corset off and draped it over the chair he’d fantasized bending her across. Cold sweat covered his skin. If he didn’t control himself, he wouldn’t survive this interminable disrobing. “Why do Englishwomen wear so many clothes?”
“Perhaps to torment Englishmen?” She turned to face him.
“You’re wearing nothing for the rest of the week.”
She gave a throaty giggle that made his gut clench with desire. “You’ll shock the servants.”
“The servants can go to Hades.” He tugged the delicate shift over her head. With a satisfied gesture, he tossed it to the side, not caring where it landed.
Charis’s color mounted, and she raised shaking hands to cover her bosom. He bit back a groan and drew her close for a long, openmouthed kiss. She kissed him back with gratifying enthusiasm, her brief shyness fading.
Again, he reminded himself to be careful, considerate, controlled.
Difficult to remember restraint when her hands ran up and down his back in a wild dance of desire. Or when her mouth clung to his as if she’d die if he stopped kissing her.
Slowly, he slid his hands up to cup her breasts. Her white flesh was exquisite, the nipples firm and dark. He couldn’t resist sucking one sweet point into his mouth. She cried out and arched closer.
He licked and suckled, following the broken pattern of her breath to test her arousal. When she moaned and trembled in his arms as though tossed in a storm, only then did he turn his attention to her other nipple.
His patience with her clothing had vanished long ago. With one ruthless movement, he ripped her drawers away. Now nothing separated him from her body. She gasped with shock and tugged at his hair. The fleeting pain only built his arousal.
He continued feasting on her breasts while one hand fell to the curls at the base of her belly. For a moment of delicate suspense, his fingers tangled in the damp softness.
He drew on her puckered nipple and slid his hand between her legs. She moaned, and a shudder ran through her. Her hand curled against the bare skin of his back. Parting her, he explored her folds. He took his time, savoring the delight.
She thrust her hips forward. He twisted his fingers, seeking. He stroked sleek petals.
And found his goal.
Very carefully, he touched her, teasing without initiating climax. Even so, her body tightened in immediate, uncontrollable response. Her soft, guttural cry alerted him to how close she was.
He raised his head from her breasts. More than he wanted to live another day, he wanted to watch her face during her first orgasm. To his shame, she hadn’t come close to her peak when he’d taken her before.
By God, she’d come tonight. Over and over. Until neither of them saw straight.
Her head tilted back, her breasts jutted forward, her eyes flickered closed, her lips parted on a raw moan as he touched her again, with greater purpose. He increased the pressure. She shivered, and he felt a sharp sting as her nails dug into his back.
She stiffened on a cry, and he felt her cross the barrier. Sensual pleasure roared through his veins as he watched her find bliss. Her trembling thighs clamped around his hand, her body quivered as though she had a fever. Hot female moisture drenched his fingers. Her heady scent was rich in his nostrils.
She’d never looked more beautiful. He’d remember this sight till the day he died. He’d remember it with gratitude and love.
After a long, shuddering moment, Charis opened misty eyes and stared at him in bewildered astonishment. “Gideon?” Her voice was hoarse and low.