Rachel stared into the mirror of the small dressing table that had obviously been moved from one of the other bedrooms of the main house into Sullivan’s bedroom to accommodate her needs. She looked the same as she had this morning—when she was Rachel Hale—but she wasn’t. She was Rachel Langley now.

Mrs. Sullivan Langley.

“For better or worse,” she whispered to her reflection. A nervous sigh escaped her lips as she reached for her brush. With the first stroke, she turned to study Sullivan’s—no, their—bedroom.

A sleigh bed dominated the room. The bedstead was beautiful dark wood and obviously custom made to accommodate Sullivan’s tall, wide-shouldered build. A fluffy-looking quilt of tan and blue squares covered the oversized mattress, making the bed look both masculine and inviting.

Would her husband claim his marital rights tonight? Or would they carry their newly formed “clean slate” into the bedroom. Would he allow them to get to know each other better before they lay as man and wife?

Obviously, he intended for them to share his bed—but to what level of intimacy?

Part of her wanted the extra time to feel more comfortable with her husband. Yet, an equal part of her wanted to feel his arms around her, his lips teasing hers.

Over the last few days, she’d seen a different side of Sullivan, a more thoughtful side, a kinder side. Their first kiss as man and wife had sent a tingle of warm awareness zinging through her, momentarily burning through her ridiculous irritation at his tardiness.

A tingle that had been missing during their few courtship kisses. Maybe knowing they had emotionally committed their lives to each had sparked her new physical response to his touch.

Rachel heard the door click open and spun around to face her mirror, her back to the door. The last thing she wanted was for Sullivan to catch her staring at their marriage bed. She resumed brushing her hair, hoping her husband would let her know his intent before they retired for the night.

Sullivan closed the door behind him then stepped into the reflection of her mirror. Shirtless, with a towel draped over his left shoulder, he studied her as intently as she knew she studied him. His hair, still damp from his bath, fell across his forehead.

But it was his hazel eyes that spoke volumes. They darkened with desire—and something else she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

He moved closer, stopping to stand directly behind her. Their gazes met in the mirror, his tender—hers tentative.

“We’ll take this slowly,” he promised as he took the brush from her hand. “I won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

She nodded, her gaze held on the brush as he slid it through her hair. Why was she so nervous? She was no coward and he—if he stayed true to his word—was no brute. With a bracing breath, she raised her gaze to the reflection of his face in the mirror.

The look of awe on his features stunned her. His attention, as hers had been only seconds ago, was riveted on the brush as it glided through her hair.

“Your hair is like spun gold in sunshine, soft, glorious. As alluring as a Siren’s song.” He rubbed a thick lock of it between his thumb and forefinger. When he raised his eyes to meet hers in the mirror, they smoldered with… what?

Rachel’s breath caught in her throat, an ember of heat kindled to life in her lower stomach.

Sullivan straddled the bench behind where she sat, giving her no choice but nestle between his legs or fall to the floor. She stiffened when her thinly covered bottom contacted his inner leg. So did he.

“Your hair was the first thing I noticed about you,” he murmured as he resumed sliding the brush through her already tangle-free hair. “I wanted to run my fingers through it, wondered how it would feel against my skin.”

After a moment, he gently swept her hair away from her neck, exposing the sensitive skin behind her ear. He placed a whisper of a kiss in the juncture of her neck and shoulder. When she didn’t pull away, he kissed her again, slightly above his first kiss, a tic more demanding, lingering a tad longer before moving up the column of her neck. And again, and again, until he reached her ear where he nibbled and sucked on her earlobe.

She closed her eyes and shuddered as intense pleasure rippled over her from where his teeth and lips played to the center of her core. When she opened her eyes a heartbeat later, she saw Sullivan staring at her through the mirror.

“I promise you, I’ll do everything in my power to make you happy.” He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer than she already was. “I’ll keep your safe.”

Rachel turned to face him, unwilling to settle for only his reflection in a mirror. As she cupped his jaw in her hand, she murmured against his lips. “I know you will.”

Then she layered her mouth over his. She poured every bit of emotion swirling through her into their kiss—hope, trust, and a burning desire to have him touch her as a husband touched his wife.

Sitting very still, perhaps afraid that if he moved she’d reject him, Sullivan accepted her kiss. Half a heartbeat later, he joined her in their kiss. Half a heartbeat after that, he took command of their joined mouths.

He nibbled on her bottom lip then pushed his tongue between her lips, deepening their kiss. His hand that had been holding her close moved upward, gently cupping her breast in his palm. When his thumb grazed across her nipple, Rachel moaned her pleasure into his mouth.

Suddenly, he swept her into his arms. Never breaking their kiss, he carried her to the edge of their bed. He held her firmly to his chest and released her legs. Her body brushed against his as her feet found the floor.

She missed his heated embrace when he stepped back slightly and studied her. Somehow knowing he waited for consent before proceeding, she smiled up at him and laid her hand on his chest where his heart lay beneath.

He took a sharp intake of breath and closed his eyes.

Amazement threaded with a surprising sense of power filled her. How had she brought him such pleasure with a simple touch?

He opened his eyes, holding her mesmerized with his half-lidded, sultry gaze. Taking her hand from over his heart, he brought her palm to his mouth and kissed it then licked the spot where his lips had been.

She shuddered against the wave of heat rippling through her.

Sullivan squeezed her fingers gently. “That’s how I feel, too, when you touch me.”

“Really?” Rachel murmured.

He chuckled softly as he released her hand then made short work of the knotted tie of her dressing gown. “Yes, really.”

So focused on his admission of her effect on him, she almost didn’t realize her dressing gown puddled at her feet. Modesty slammed into the forefront of her thoughts, dampening the heat curling in her stomach. When she started to cross her hands over herself, he gathered her into his arms and held her.

“Don’t, please,” he whispered against her hair. “Please don’t hide from me.”

His plead, drenched in both desire and promise to comply to her wishes, defeated her battle with modesty. When she gently nudged him back a step, disappointment lined his features until she reached up and tugged at the little pink bow holding her nightgown’s neckline demurely fastened.

With one shoulder completely bare and her gown barely covering her left breast, she admitted, “I don’t know what to do next.”

“That’s all right. I do,” he replied, his voice thick with…hunger?

He traced his finger along the edge of her gaping gown, ever so slowly pushing it down to expose more of her. She shivered against the titillating sensations zinging across her flesh.

“May I touch you?”

“God, yes. Remember, my body responds much like yours. If it feels good to you, it’ll feel good to me.”

She nodded as she mimicked his caress by lightly tracing his collarbone from the crest of his shoulder to his breastbone with her fingertips. He whispered an encouraging yes as goosebumps prickled over his skin.

He bent and kissed the tip of her shoulder where her gown rested. The gossamer fabric floated to the floor to join her dressing gown. Rachel raised onto her toes and kissed his shoulder then ran the tip of her tongue over the spot where she’d kissed him, much like he’d done with her palm.

Surprise mingled with disappointment ran over her when he took her hands in his and stepped back. “Have I done something wrong?”

“I want to look at you, want to drink my fill of you.” He shook his head and smiled, awe shining in his hazel eyes. “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

Rachel felt her cheeks flush as she fought the urge to cover herself. Sullivan seemed to notice her discomfort and drew her into his arms and kissed her.

Suddenly, her world tilted when he swept her into his arms. Still holding her, he managed to turn down the bed before placing her on soft sheets. She quickly grabbed the folded-back sheet and quilt and covered herself.

Enthralled, she watched as he stood and turned his back to her. Hard muscles tapered downward from his broad shoulders to his smaller waist. Not that anything about Sullivan Langley was small.

Without warning, his pants dropped to the floor.

Rachel gasped at her husband’s toned physique. He had the body of a Greek god—at least from the back. Finally finding her voice, she asked, “Why did you turn your back to me? Why are you hiding from me?”

He glanced over his shoulder. “I don’t want to scare you.”

“You won’t scare me. You promised not to hurt me, and I believe you.” Gathering her resolve, she asked, “Please turn around.”

He groaned. “It would be easier if we shared tonight before you see me engorged with passion.”

“Do you think me a coward?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“You are many things, Rachel Hale Langley, but I doubt you’ve ever been a coward.” Then he sighed and turned to face her.

“Oh my God!” she gasped. “What is that?”

“My desire for you.”

She clutched the bed coverings over her nakedness. “I know that. I’ve read books, done some discreet research, but nothing said anything about size. Maybe you shouldn’t desire me soooo much?”

Sullivan ran his hand over his face as he muttered something under his breath. Then he slipped into bed beside her.

“If desire regulates size—”

He burst out laughing.

“What?”

“It doesn’t work that way,” he answered between chuckles.

“Fine.” She folded her hands in her lap, letting the sheet fall to her waist and whispered her disappointment. “I don’t think I can accommodate your ‘desire.’”

Sobering, he pulled her into his arms. “You were enjoying my touches moments ago.”

His hand skimmed down her back to rest on the crest of her hip. Her body warmed to his adoring, almost reverent, caress. “Yes.”

Ever so slowly, he skated his hand upward to her ribcage. His fingers stroked her side while his thumb drew circles around her nipple. She shuddered against the tingles he conjured.

Then his mouth found hers and she was lost on an overwhelming wave of pleasure. She pressed against him, her naked body against his. Giving as much as he gave. Taking as much as he took.

She groaned with disappointment when his mouth left hers, only to gasp in wanton gratification as his tongue replaced his thumb on her nipple. When he sucked the tip of her breast into his mouth and worked her nipple between his teeth, a bolt of red-hot need flared through her, searing every nerve in her body.

Urges swirled through her. She wanted to grind her hips against his, wanted to stab her fingers through his hair and never let him move from her breast. She wanted to burrow deeply inside him and bask in the heat of him, the feel of him. She wanted to make him burn from the inside out with as much blazing need as he stoked in her.

She barely noticed his hand gliding down her stomach through her haze of hunger—until he traced her womanly lips with his finger. She stiffened and tried to pull away from him.

“Shh, it’s all right, sweetheart. I just want to see if you’re ready for me,” he explained as he dipped his finger between her folds. “Sweet Jesus. You’re so hot, so wet.”

A part of her—a big part—yearned to spread her legs wide for him, wanted to feel him inside her. Anything to relieve the pounding of her blood. But another part, a smaller—more modest part, wanted time, and space, to think.

Sullivan gave her neither.

Before she could decide what she wanted, he layered his mouth over hers, nipped at her bottom lip then licked the sting away with the tip of his tongue. She readily opened for him.

He assaulted her misgivings with tender kisses that morphed into passionate demands of surrender. His finger mimicked the thrusts of his tongue as he played an erotic game of hide and seek with her tongue. His thumb, slick with her juices, circled her knot of nerves at her apex.

The frenzied intensity coiling in the pit of her stomach rose to a fiery pitch. Her legs spread wider seemingly on their own. Her hips bucked upward to deepen the thrust of his fingers. She needed…something. And she needed it badly.

Sullivan rolled atop her, holding some of his weight with his elbow. When he released her mouth, he whispered against her lips, his voice thick and raspy, “The first time I enter you will hurt. But after that it will be magnificent.”

Rachel nodded, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him. He shifted slightly and entered her. She felt full, over-full, and stretched to her limits but no pain.

She relaxed in his arms then ground her hips against his, hoping to encourage him to move. “Please.”

He thrust deeper.

Pain ripped through her, catching her by surprise. Biting her lip bloody to keep from crying out, she waited as the searing sting ebbed away.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. It had to be done.” He lowered his head to place the tenderest of kisses across her lips.

Gradually, her discomfort receded, and Sullivan’s caring caresses registered in her mind. “I’m fine, now.”

“I’m glad.” He smiled and winked. “Now, where were we?”

He began to move in and out of her, slowly at first, and then—as though he could sense her frustration—he increased his speed, little by little.

At first, he drove her crazy with want. And then he drove her into a frenzied knot of primal need.

Breaths mingled, hands slid over naked skin, both his and hers. Profound pleasure like none she’d ever known grew into a palpable thing. Her heart pounding, she raced toward…something.

Raking her nails across Sullivan’s back, she begged, “Please, I need—”

She didn’t know what she needed, but she needed it with every fiber of body.

“Just let go, darlin’. Let it happen,” he commanded, his voice raspy, his breathing labored.

He grounded his hips against her and thrust twice more, deeper, harder, faster.

A ball of molten heat exploded in her lower stomach. She couldn’t breathe and didn’t care. She heard herself growl in the back of her throat as she dug her nails into Sullivan’s flesh.

And then the stars fell out of the sky.