EYES were wide with wonder, anticipation, a hint of humor only slightly shadowed by apprehension.
He wondered what she saw in his eyes.
He wondered if she was having as much trouble breathing as he was, as if his body had turned that responsibility solely over to him, and if he didn’t concentrate he would not breathe at all.
She didn’t know. She’d never questioned.
Or she’d never doubted.
Did it matter?
She was his, convenient betrothal be damned, the ring be damned, the world be damned.
She was his. From the moment she’d first looked into his eyes. Then. Now. Forever.
Her mouth was warm beneath his, her skin soft and silky as he kissed away her clothing, his senses fired by her tentative touch as she returned the favor.
Stroke. Touch. Learn.
With all the time in the world, with all the care he could hope to convey through each new gentle advance.
Always ready to stop. A constant prayer in his head that she wouldn’t ask that of him.
That he wouldn’t ask it of himself.
She moaned softly as he took her nipple into his mouth, raising herself so that he could cup her, hold her, introduce her to the world of sensual pleasure.
He moved to kiss her again, keep her at a level of pleasure unmixed with pain as he managed to somehow unbutton his breeches.
Advance. Retreat. Kiss, and kiss again. Taste and touch and swirling passion mixed with a tenderness that threatened to bring him to tears.
God. Thank You, God. What did I do to deserve such a precious gift?
Coop lifted his head, to look down into Dany’s face as he slowly slid his hand down her perfect body. He pressed his palm against her lower belly, and watched as her pupils went wide and dark.
She licked her lips with the tip of her tongue. He watched as her throat worked when she swallowed, blinked up at him.
His heart pounded. With the rapid beat of life, of the exquisite pain of love he hadn’t known existed.
He moved his hand, slipping it between her thighs even as he claimed her mouth once more with lips and tongue.
She opened for him. Flowered for him.
He mimicked his motions, tongue and exploring fingers. Cajoled. Comforted. Knew the moment when apprehension was replaced by pleasure. Pleasure he was giving her, longed to give her.
She moaned quietly, moving her hips as if she thought he’d leave her.
He dared to become more intimate, but she immediately stiffened, her thighs tensing.
“It’s all right, it’s all right,” he soothed against her mouth. “I’ll stop.”
She shook her head. Rather violently actually.
He couldn’t help but smile.
What had he been thinking? Dany would never call a halt at the first fence. It wasn’t in her nature.
Slowly, as he levered a leg between hers, he began whispering in her ear. “I don’t want to hurt you. I never want to hurt you. But just this once, I will, I must.”
She wrapped her arms around his back and lifted her lower body against him. No words. No fear. Just a silent yet definite yes.
“But quickly,” she told him, her fingertips digging into his back.
“No going back,” he warned.
“No going back,” she agreed on a sigh.
That was all the encouragement he needed. He felt her tense; he knew the moment he’d broken beyond the thin barrier. He held her close as he gave her everything, as she took him in.
He wanted to be gentle. He had every intention of being gentle, slowly introducing her to what he hoped would be a building pleasure, at least enough to give her the promise that next time, and all the times after this, there would be nothing but pleasure.
But he hadn’t counted on Dany.
Somehow, amid the tangle of clothing and the soft, sun-warmed cashmere throw, she managed to free her legs, bringing them up and around his back, keeping him close as he began to move inside her.
Her courage lent him courage. Dany was a woman now, of her own free will, her own free choice.
She could walk away once this business of blackmail was settled, and Mari was settled. He could walk away, both of them having agreed this was only a sham betrothal.
Yet she’d given herself to him. Without a backward glance, without demanding anything of him. And damn the consequences.
Or did she trust him that much? Was there even more there than trust? He dared to hope.
“Dany...” he breathed, claiming her mouth again. He could never, would never, get enough of her kisses. He could survive for days with no other sustenance but the sweet taste of her.
Coop was in awe, reverent even as his passion built, but he would continue to hold back, be gentle, slowly, carefully, bring her at least some measure of pleasure...even if it killed him.
But Dany wasn’t so reticent.
Her fingertips dug into his back would leave marks. She raised herself to meet him each time he dared to go deeper, matching him move for move. He could hear her quick, shallow breaths. He could feel her heart beating against his chest.
He raised his head, looking down into her eyes. Those deeply blue, all-expressive eyes. The expression of wonder was still there, now accompanied by revelation, and perhaps even a bit of impatience.
Bless her. Dany, the fearless.
“Are you certain? I’m not hurting you? Because...”
She scissored her legs higher on his back.
He had his answer.
Nature has a way of protecting the innocent, and that’s what they were at this moment, two innocents, navigating their way through unfamiliar territory, guided only by instinct.
Sex. Any two people could fumble their way through that age-old act.
But to care, really care? Adding that unexpected dimension to what came naturally?
Being with Dany this way, Coop felt himself as much the virgin as she had been until a few short minutes ago. As his passion grew, another emotion grew with it, blossomed, burst into full flower the moment he felt her body convulse around him. Her pleasure ignited him, took him beyond anything he’d known, and when he spilled inside her he felt tears stinging at the backs of his eyes.
He lay on top of her for long moments, both of them recovering their breath, waiting for their hearts to ease back from the mad gallops they had been that had helped them race to the brink, and beyond.
He looked down on her face, again attempting to gauge her reaction, only to see tears running out of the corners of her eyes, sliding into her ears. Yet she smiled, raised a hand to cup his cheek.
He turned his mouth into her palm, pressed a kiss against her warm flesh.
“That...that was interesting.”
Only Dany could say something like that and make him laugh.
“I agree,” he told her, carefully levering himself away from her, just enough to remove some of his weight. Still watching her, he fumbled for the cashmere throw, drawing it up and over her.
Dropping a kiss on the tip of her nose, he sat up, his back to her, located his jacket and retrieved the linen square handkerchief.
“Stay,” he told her as he got to his feet, one hand holding up his pantaloons. He felt he presented a less than romantic figure,