“There’s this thing I’ve heard married couples do,” he drawled.
She sucked in a breath so loud his mouth twitched.
“It’s called kissing and making up.”
Make-up sex? Was that what she wanted her first time to be?
She hugged herself and stared into a hollow space between where her clothes hung beside his.
He sobered. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, Ilona. But we need to talk this out.”
“I’m not angry,” she insisted. “Not really. I’m...” Pressure built in her chest, then the words came out in a rush. “I’m scared. I’m afraid that if you don’t trust me, it means I can’t trust you. And now look what I’ve done.” She was married to him. She was going to start sleeping with him. She was going to be more physically defenseless than it was possible to be.
She was also afraid of what he could do to her, what he was starting to make her feel. She feared becoming dependent on him for confidence and pleasure and self-worth. For a reason to wake in the morning.
“Believe it or not, I’m trying to protect you,” he said gravely. “All of the actions I’m taking from now on are mine. He can’t accuse you or blame you if you have no part in it, not even knowledge of what I plan to do.”
She jerked a shoulder to dismiss that, but she was slightly mollified.
“Let’s agree to do one thing for the next few hours,” he began.
Her eyes widened and he barked out a laugh.
“Not every word out of my mouth is about sex, Ilona. Relax.” He ran his hand over his face, rearranging his amusement into something more kind. “Let’s quit talking about him. Or thinking about him. When we’re in this room, in our bed, it’s only about us.”
“That’s frightening, too,” she realized as she felt the full weight of his attention. It was as though his words had removed an invisible wall that she had been using to hold him off. Now she felt exposed. Defenseless.
“Why?”
Because there was no “us.” They didn’t have enough between them that wasn’t tainted by their history.
Maybe that’s what sex was for, though. To build the connection they needed.
With an awkward memory? She rubbed her brow, not relishing making a fool of herself.
“Does it bother you that I don’t really know how it all works? I mean, I know.” She rolled her eyes upward. “I know what happens. I lack practical knowledge.” Her cheeks were so hot they hurt.
“You seem to be a quick study. I’m not worried.”
“Don’t laugh at me.” She covered her face.
“I’m not. I swear I’m not.” He was definitely chuckling as his warm hands came around her wrists and drew them down. “I won’t rush you. You can stop me anytime. You know that, don’t you?” His quicksilver gaze delved into her own, so deep her insides quavered.
She was barefoot, much shorter than when she wore shoes. She was inundated by emotions, too. Unsure but excited, inadequate but wanting to learn. Safe, but aware this would change things in her. She would feel different about him and herself after this. The intimacy of the act, the way she would have to strip away all her defenses and reveal herself, was terrifying.
But she gave the barest hint of a nod, too overwhelmed to speak.
A smile ghosted across his lips, then he drew her arms up to encourage them to twine around his neck while he pressed his mouth to hers, brushing softly.
It was a chaste kiss. A greeting and a quest. A promise to go slow and wait for her.
It was lovely and for a moment she simply enjoyed it, allowing her fingertips to play against the stubble that faded into a line on the back of his neck.
But her shy desire had been simmering for weeks, ever since that first wild kiss at the restaurant. Their interlude on the yacht had teased her with what could be and now her yearnings were gathering into a tangle with her anxious determination, forming a knot of frustration. He was being too careful. Too slow. She wanted the storm. The hurricane she knew he could deliver. She wanted to be swept away.
She instinctually opened her mouth and pressed more firmly into his kiss, allowing her breasts to squash against the wall of his chest, willing him to plunder.
A small jolt went through him and then his arm firmed around her. He abruptly angled his head to seal their mouths more thoroughly. His other hand cupped the back of her head. He held her where he wanted her as he took. Ravished.