“Vulgarly, yes.”
“Then I shall call it that, too.” She edged close to pull his shirt up, and her throat worked convulsively as she saw him fully erect. But at least she wasn’t turning away. “And now that I get a good look at it, I’m not surprised. It’s rather impudent. And big. It’s no wonder that dealing with that . . . that monstrous thing hurts. I don’t know how other women stand it going in.”
“You suffered more pain than you should have.” His throat tightened. “It hurt because Whiting took you even though he knew you weren’t ready.”
“Ready?”
Reaching up to undo her breeches, he exulted when she didn’t shy away as he pushed them down. She even stepped out of them.
As he’d suspected, she wore no drawers underneath, but her long shirt covered her privates from his sight. Perhaps being covered would ease her fears a bit.
Like a gamekeeper approaching a wild deer, he inched his hand beneath her shirt to the juncture of her thighs, where he stroked her with slow, careful caresses. “This wetness? It’s to make it easier for you to let a man in.” He dipped his finger inside, relishing her soft sigh. “I daresay Whiting frightened you so much that whatever might have been there in reaction to his kisses dried right up.”
“I was very . . . upset.”
What an understatement. It took all his will to keep his expression calm and even, instead of black with the rage he felt every time he thought of Whiting ravaging her. “But the bastard didn’t care and entered you anyway. It’s rather like when I try to fit two pieces of an automaton together. If they’re not properly oiled, the friction of the movements can damage the metal. You weren’t ‘oiled.’ That’s why it hurt so much.”
She blinked. “Oh. That makes sense. But women are always talking about the pain—”
“The first time can hurt for some, I’m told, but that’s mostly because a virgin goes into the experience nervous and afraid. That doesn’t help.” Continuing to caress her, he glanced up into her wary face. “Nature created men and women to fit together, sweetheart. But we have to want to fit together. Whiting didn’t wait for you to want him. I will.”
“I know. I trust you.”
The words were a balm to his aching heart. “Then may I lift your shirt?”
“I’ll do you one better,” she said, her voice a little shaky. Then she pulled it off over her head and dropped it to the floor.
He dragged in a hot breath. She was naked except for her stockings and garters. And he’d never seen anything lovelier in his life—skin smooth as alabaster, plump breasts with rosy little nipples, and a curly thatch a hand’s width below her saucily crooked navel.
“Whiting was a fool,” he said as he drank his fill. “To trample over all this glorious beauty without even taking his time to explore.”
A faint smile curved up her lips. “Which means you’ll be the first to explore. If you like.”
His pulse tripled. “I like,” he rasped. “I like very much.”
“Then go to it,” she whispered. “Because I like very much having your hands and mouth on me.”
Twenty-One
When he reached for Clarissa, the look in his eyes heated her blood. How strange that it seemed natural to be naked before him, to be wrapped in his arms as his mouth kissed and laved and licked her breasts, her belly, her . . . tender parts. Which felt hot and aching for him. And wet. Very, very wet.
You weren’t “oiled.” That’s why it hurt so much.
Oh, how she prayed he was right. But Edwin never lied. He was very matter-of-fact, even about her being unchaste.
I understood you. I simply don’t give a damn.
He didn’t, did he? He only cared about how she’d been hurt, and he showed it now by being so tender, it made tears well in her throat all over again. “Oh, Edwin . . . I wish I’d told you long ago . . .”
Pausing to gaze up her, he said, “You weren’t ready to tell me. I understand that.” He bent to lick her down there, sending her up on her toes with excitement. Eyes gleaming at her, he murmured, “Shall I do what I did in the carriage?”
“Later,” she breathed. “I haven’t yet had a chance to explore you.”
He gave her a blank look.
“I want to see you naked, too. I want to caress all the parts of you.” She reached forward to drag his shirt off over his head, then pulled away to look at him, but it was hard to see him properly when he was seated. “Lean back a bit.”
With a lift of one imperious brow, he did, letting his legs fall open with a certain insolence that should have alarmed her.
It did not. Because he was down there, and she was up here.