Gemma felt her heartbeat jump as he carried her to the bed, but rather than laying her down on it, he set her on her feet beside it.
“What are you doing?” she asked, puzzled.
“Removing this chastity belt of a nightdress,” he said with a wry look.
But when he began to remove the dressing gown, she shooed his hands away and said primly, “You remove your clothes, sir. I will manage my own.”
And without argument, his hands went to the buttons on his waistcoat and she shrugged out of the dressing gown and then began unbuttoning what really was the most unenticing flannel nightdress she’d ever seen. She paused, however, when he pulled his lawn shirt over his head.
The hint of hair she’d seen earlier when he uncoiled his neckcloth proved to trail down the center of his chest, and she took in the sight of his broad, muscled chest—the skin slightly tanned from some time spent out of doors in the sun. She’d felt its firmness with her own hands, but the sight of it, and the trail of curly dark hair that disappeared into his breeches was enough to make her mouth dry with wanting. This was what it meant to be intimate, she realized. Knowing what a man looked like out of his clothes as well as in them.
He tossed his shirt to the floor, and turned back to find her watching him.
“You seem very well made,” she said, trying to maintain some dignity even as she felt her cheeks heat. Then, realizing what she’d said, she felt her ears turn red as well.
But to her relief, he didn’t laugh, only said gravely, “Thank you. As are you.”
And gently, as if he were trying not to spook a nervous horse, he moved his hands to where hers clutched the buttons of her nightdress and finished unbuttoning it for her. The enormity of what was to come sent a wave of emotion through her then, and she was grateful for the care he took with her. She looked down when the idea of meeting his eyes became too much, but she saw the bulge in his breeches there and looked up and focused on a freckle on his bare shoulder instead.
But then she was looking into his eyes again because he’d pushed the flannel gown off her shoulders and it fell with a shushing sound to the floor.
“My bosom is far too small,” she said as she felt his eyes roam over her. “And I’m too fleshy around the middle.”
She was about to continue with a critique of her legs, but he stopped her with his mouth. His voice husky he said to her, “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
He pulled away, and cupped her breast. “See how it fits perfectly in my hand.”
She glanced down and the sight of his dark hand on her pale skin sent a wave of heat through her.
“And in my mouth,” he said lifting her onto the bed, then following her up.
Just his words were enough to send a stab of sensation to her core.
And then he suited his words to deed and took her rosy nipple into his hot mouth and she thought she would combust. “Oh.” She clutched at his shoulders as if she could pull him closer. Then he stroked a thumb over her other breast and she felt another jolt of fire run between her breast and her center.
“Perfection,” he said, his deep voice vibrating through her as he kissed his way down her breast and over her ribs. “As soft as silk and so responsive.”
A restlessness was taking over her, however, and she wanted him back with his mouth on her.
“You’re as well formed as one of Elgin’s marbles come to life,” he said opening his mouth over the dip of her waist and then kissing his way further down.
Gemma was awash in desire at the sensations he roused, but when she felt his hand grip her hip, she realized what lay at the destination his mouth seemed intent on visiting. “Wait, Cam, where are you…?”
She felt his laugh softly against her lower belly. Pushing himself up a little, he looked up at her and she was taken aback by the view of him looking up her naked body at her.
“Do you trust me, sweet?” he asked, his eyes dark with passion. “Because I very much want to kiss you here. And I think it will make your pleasure when I take you better.”
“You think?” she asked, suddenly very aware of the fact that this was the strangest conversation she’d ever engaged in.
He had the decency to look abashed. “I’m afraid I don’t have any experience bedding virgins,” he said with a slight shrug. “But the last thing I want is to give you pain and I know there can be pain the first time…”
His expression betrayed his concern about causing her discomfort and Gemma felt her chest constrict at the knowledge. He was so much kinder than he revealed to the world.
“Very well,” she said with a small nod. “If you think this will help with…”
And without waiting for her to finish her statement, he shifted so that her knees were over his shoulders. Her complaint, however, lodged in her throat as she felt his hot tongue slide up the center of her, right where she hadn’t even known she needed him.
It was as if her body came alive at his touch, each new stroke of his tongue stoking the fire within her to higher flames. When he added his fingers, stroking then gently pressing inside of her, she cried out. That was what she needed. There, his fingers filling her. Of their own volition, her hips bucked against his staying hands, and she felt an overwhelming rush of excitement as she spiraled over some imaginary precipice into darkness.
When she came back to herself, she was slightly embarrassed, but her limbs were far too limp to do anything about it.
She felt Cam kiss her thigh before he moved up her body. Somewhere along the line he must have shed his breeches because she felt his strong legs slide against hers as he shifted to kneel between them.
His kiss was remarkably tender as he slid her knee over his hip, placing his arousal at the heart of her, and the press of him, when it came, was uncomfortable but not painful. She waited for him to be fully seated, and when he stopped, she exhaled slowly.
“All right?” She could feel the tension in his body, and knew his patience was not without cost to him. But he made no complaint.
She reached up a hand to stroke her thumb over his furrowed brow. “Yes,” she said softly, memorizing his expression in this moment so that she’d remember it always. And before she finished the syllable he began to withdraw.
This was different from the anxiety of that first stroke, and Gemma felt bereft as he left her.
“Can’t go slow,” Cam said, in a voice both strained and apologetic, as he began to move faster and Gemma thought she would weep with relief. With each thrust, she struggled to hold on to him, and of their own volition her knees clasped him to her. His movements sent her into another frenzy of sensation, and she began to spiral up, up, up into the ether once more, even as she heard the sound of their breaths, and felt every touch of skin and sweat between them.
“Come for me, sweet,” he said as his movements became more desperate and unable to hold back, she let herself fly.
As she let the feeling of bliss overtake her, she heard him cry out her name.
* * *
Not wanting to crush her, Cam flipped them so that she was lying on his chest, though it took every ounce of strength he had left to do it.
Never in his life had he felt more inclined to sleep than at this moment.
“Just a few minutes,” he promised her, kissing the top of head as he struggled to get his breath back.
As it happened, however, a few minutes turned into a few hours and when he awoke again it was to find she’d moved to settle at his side, her gloriously naked leg entwined in his and her hair a tangle of curls.
He let his gaze drift lazily over her as he considered the consequences of what had been, all things considered, the most important act of his adult life.
He knew she’d been intent on ending their betrothal once the year was over. He’d been intent upon it too. But once he’d made the decision to wed her, it had become a goal he had no intention of giving up. And now that she’d lain with him, there would be no ending their betrothal. Especially not with the possibility of a child.
“You’re thinking quite hard, I believe,” she said, and he saw that she’d been watching him.
Her lips curved into a mischievous smile as she stretched her arms over her head.
“Thinking about you,” he said, pulling her up onto his chest. Gemma gave a slight shriek at the manhandling then she sat with her knees on either side of him.
“You’re going to rouse the inn with cries like that,” he chided, brow raised. “Though I suppose they’ve already decided we’re shameless newlyweds.”
To his amusement, the unfazeable Miss Gemma Hastings looked abashed. “Do you think they heard us?” she asked, looking worried.
“You were quite loud at times,” he said with shrug. “But,” he added, “so was I, if it comes to that. I feel sure this inn has heard worse than the pair of us.”
That must have relieved her concerns because she nodded, then leaned forward to kiss him. “I had no idea you had such a gift for tender talk,” she said as she stroked her thumb over the stubble of his jaw. “In fact, you were much more considerate than I’d have imagined.”
He let her control the kiss for a moment, letting her tongue stroke his until it was impossible to tell who was leading. When she pulled her mouth away, he stayed her torso with a hand. “Why should it surprise you I’m a considerate lover?” he asked softly.
He wasn’t sure why it mattered, but he didn’t want to think Gemma had thought he’d be an inconsiderate lout either.
“Well, I have no one to compare you to,” she admitted with a shrug. “But, given our tendency to rip up at one another, I had thought perhaps you’d be—I don’t know—more demanding, I suppose.”
“And what did you find?”
She grinned. “That you were gentle and sweet,” she said, laying her head on his chest, and stretching her legs out over the top of his. “But also, forceful when I needed you to be.”
“Forceful, eh?” he stroked a hand down her spine to the soft roundness of her bottom. “You liked that?”
“Very much,” she said, toying with his chest hair.
“Gentle and sweet and forceful,” he said. “Quite a combination.”
“But you can change them up when the mood suits,” she said with equanimity.
“Thank you so much, my dear,” he said wryly. “And what of my wishes?”
“Of course you must tell me what you like too,” she said, and she sat up again and looked down at him. A long lock of dark blonde hair fell down to cover her breast and he couldn’t help but reach out and wrap it around his finger.
“Cam,” she said, calling his attention back to her face. “I mean it, you mustn’t feel as if you can’t tell me what you want. I can assure you that I won’t hold back from telling you.”
He heard the note of concern in her voice and let go of her hair and took her hand. Kissing her palm, he assured her, “I will. Though I’m sorry to say that my wants are quite uncomplicated. I want you, however I can get you. The ways and iterations aren’t all that important.”
Her brow furrowed and he watched in amusement as she considered that there were likely more iterations than she’d previously imagined.
“Do you mean to say you do not wish to take me bent over a chair?” she asked, with a frown. And suddenly he could think of nothing in the world he wanted more. He glanced at the wooden chairs they’d sat in for supper and considered if it were feasible.
She must have read his expression right because she laughed. “So, perhaps your wants aren’t quite as uncomplicated as you’d thought,” she said wryly.
He shrugged. “Perhaps not,” he agreed. “I will amend my statement and say that I very much want you in every way possible. You are the part of the equation that cannot vary.”
“I feel sure Daphne would have something to say about your arithmetic,” Gemma said.
And having decided they’d talked enough—especially given that his prick had very much liked the chair idea and wanted to be appeased, he flipped her onto her back again.
“You cannot keep doing that,” she scolded, though it was evident from her wide smile that she wasn’t as unhappy as she seemed. “What if I wished to control things?”
“Later,” he told her, “you told me you liked it when I’m forceful.”
He pressed her hands above her head and held them there with one hand while his other stroked over her straining breast, and down her belly.
“Yes,” she said in a husky tone. “I do like it.”
“Good,” he said against her neck.
And when his hand reached the wetness at her center, he stroked over her once before guiding himself into her. With one swift thrust he filled her and they both cried out with relief at the joining.
“Let me touch you,” she said, pulling her hands. “Oh please, Cam.”
But he lifted her knee over his hip and thrust again. “Not yet. Trust me, sweet.” He leaned down to kiss her.
And as he built up the fire between them, using the friction of her nipples against his chest to stoke them both, she began to twist beneath him.
“Cam,” she exhaled as she followed his strokes with her hips and they began to move in tandem. He felt her inner muscles clutch him and he quickened his pace bringing her toward an edge that both of them longed to go over. When he felt the telltale tingle in his spine, he let go of her hands and she cried out again, the sudden freedom spurring her climax. And then they were both soaring over the edge into pleasure’s abyss.