It was a mighty aphrodisiac, that. He knew it, too. Every time she moaned with delight, his own body burned in response.

“Can I kiss you?” she asked.

“Please.”

She sat up, her head tilting as she regarded him. The curiosity in her eyes was mesmerizing; she seemed to be studying every line and plane of his chest. It was odd to be the object of such intense scrutiny, but he could not fault her for it; he wanted to do the same. And if it made her more comfortable in their marriage bed, he would stay there for hours.

She could explore him at will.

Honestly, he could not imagine a lovelier torture.

He held his breath as she leaned forward and touched her lips to him. His muscles jumped beneath his skin, but he held still. His heart was pounding, and it felt as if his soul was straining against his body. He wanted to grab her, push her down against the mattress. He wanted to lay his body atop hers, make her feel the heat of him, the weight.

He wanted her to understand what she did to him, to know that in this moment he was hers to command.

And at the same time he wanted to dominate her.

He drew a shaky breath, the sound of it rushing past his lips like a gasp, and she looked up.

“Am I doing it right?” she asked.

He nodded. “Too right.”

“Is that possible?”

“You’re killing me, Georgie.”

“But in a good way?” she murmured. It was barely a question; she was clearly growing confident in her feminine prowess.

He nodded again, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips. “I want to see you,” he said.

She didn’t say anything, but her eyes flared, and a pale blush washed across her cheeks.

“Will you let me?” he whispered.

She nodded, but she didn’t move. She needed him to remove the nightgown for her, he realized. She was not yet so bold.

He bunched some of the thin cotton in his fingers, never taking his eyes off hers as he slowly lifted the gown over her head. Her lower body was still concealed by the bedsheets, but the rest of her was bared to him.

Gloriously.

“You’re gorgeous,” he said.

She blushed. Everywhere. But she didn’t try to cover herself.

He wanted to touch her breasts, to cup them in his hands, but even more he wanted to feel them pressed against his bare skin, so he gathered her in his arms and kissed her again.

And again.

And again, holding her tight as he lowered her to the bed. He pressed his pelvis against her, his blood jumping in his veins as he asked, “Do you feel what you do to me?”

She nodded, but she looked unsure, so he said, “It changes when aroused. Gets bigger. Harder.”

She nodded again, but again, her eyes held questions, so he touched her cheek and said, “Do you know what happens between a man and a woman?”

“Yes,” she said. “My mother told me, and then Billie did.”

For some reason this made him smile. “And how did their accounts compare?”

“My sister was far more frank.”

“And encouraging, I hope.”

Georgie’s mouth curved into a tiny smirk. “Very much so. Although she said—” She cut herself off with a little shake of her head.

“Tell me.”

“No.” She shook her head, but she was smiling as she did so. “I can’t.”

“What did she say?”

“I can’t. I just can’t.”

Nicholas brought his mouth to her ear. “I can get it out of you, you know. I have my ways.”

And while she was twisting to get a look at his face again, he brought his fingers to her ribs and gave a little tickle.

She shrieked.

“I thought I remembered that you were ticklish,” he said.

“Stop. Oh, please stop.”

“Tell me what Billie said.”

“Oh my—Nicholas, stop.”

“Tell me …”

“All right, all right.”

He stopped tickling, but he didn’t move his hand.

She looked pointedly down.

“Not removing the threat just yet,” he murmured.

“You are the worst.”

He shrugged, wondering what spectacular god was granting them this much laughter in their first marriage bed.

Georgie pressed her lips together in a peevish expression before saying, “She told me that I will be certain that it won’t work, but that I would be wrong, and it would.”

He considered that. “Why is that embarrassing?”

“Because she said I would be certain it would not fit,” she ground out.

“Why is that embarrassing?”

“It just is.”

He rested his forehead against hers. “It’ll fit.”

“How would you know?” she retorted.

And then he started to laugh. He laughed so hard he could no longer hold himself up and he fell against her, his full weight pressing her down. He laughed so hard he eventually had to roll off of her and onto his back.

He laughed so hard he didn’t even realize he was crying until she wiped away his tears.

“I wasn’t trying to be funny,” she said.

“That’s what made it funny.”

She scowled. Or rather she tried to. He saw through it.

“It’ll fit,” he said again.

“You know this because you’re a doctor?”

He slid his hand to the juncture of her thighs. Even without venturing into her folds, he could tell she was hot. And growing wet.

“I know this,” he said, “because you were made for me.”

She gasped a little, arching her back when he touched her more intimately. “And were you made for me?” she asked, her voice barely a breath.

He stroked her, every manly part of him puffing with pride and delight as she grew slick. “Let’s think about that,” he murmured. “You’re the first woman I’ve lain with. So yes, I think I was.”

Her eyes flared, and he took advantage of her delight by slipping one finger inside her. She was tight—tight enough that he understood why she might think his cock might not fit, but he was a patient man. His body might be screaming for release, but he was more than happy to continue with his current ministrations, stroking and caressing until she was ready for his invasion.

“Do you feel that?” he asked, his voice husky with desire. “Do you feel how wet you are?”

She nodded.

“That’s to make sure I fit. Your body changes too.”

Her face lit with an expression of wonder. It was almost intellectual. Maybe it was intellectual, or maybe it would have been, had she not been in the grips of her own desire. He realized that his words did just as much to arouse her as his touch, and so he brought his lips to her ear and said, “When I touch you like this, you grow softer. And wetter. It means you’re getting ready for me.”

She nodded shakily.

“Do you feel empty?” he asked.

Her brow creased with confusion.

“Like you want more,” he whispered. “More here.”

He slid another finger inside her.

“Yes!” she gasped.

“Yes, you feel empty?”

“I did.”

“But not now?”

She shook her head.