She heard his footsteps and saw the dark outline of his form as he moved nearer to her. “A virgin?”
He was big. So much bigger than she held him in her memory. It made her feel very, very small. He could break her with one hand. Destroy her.
She sensed he could also make her feel things she’d only ever dreamed of.
It made her tremble. There had been spare few unknown things in her life. She’d been protected by her father, her husband selected for her. And this...
This was very, very unknown.
“That’s what I said.” She sniffed, keeping her posture rigid, trying not to shrink back from embarrassment or anything else.
“That’s very interesting. And especially interesting you didn’t see fit to let me know until now.”
“I didn’t see that it mattered.”
“And yet, you think it does now?”
“I wanted you to understand why it feels...unfair. It’s not like I have a lot of experience. It’s the unknown. I don’t know what to expect. As far as sex goes. I’m just... I was just lying in bed, waiting for you to come. And I don’t even know what exactly I’m waiting for. Can’t you understand how that frays one’s nerves?”
“First of all,” he said, his tone almost gentle, “you’re not waiting for an execution. If all goes well, you’re waiting for an orgasm. Perhaps several of them. And that shouldn’t terrify you.”
“Orgasms don’t terrify me,” she said, grateful that the light wasn’t on. Grateful he couldn’t see how furiously she was no doubt blushing. “But the idea of...”
“Penetration?”
Her mouth flew open, then snapped back shut. She couldn’t speak.
“Yes,” he said. “That, I think, is what worries you.”
Yes. It did. But, it was more than that. And she didn’t want to have this conversation with him. Didn’t want to talk about it at all. Because she couldn’t put into words exactly what scared her. Beyond the element of the unknown and the physical pain. It was the fact that they were going to be so... So close. Skin to skin.
And of course, now she was standing there in his room wearing nothing but her underwear. At least it was dark. But still. What had she been thinking? She should have put on a robe. Or that green dress. Her wedding gown. Something.
“I’m turning on a light,” he said.
“No,” she protested, her voice an impotent squeak as he flicked a lamp on.
He was standing there wearing nothing but a pair of tight black briefs and she forgot for a moment to be embarrassed, because she was too busy taking in the sight of him. His chest was broad, covered with dark hair that tapered down to a thin line as it bisected his well-defined abs. His hips were narrow, his thighs muscular, and it made her curious what exactly he did to acquire such a physique. But she imagined that wasn’t polite conversation. Of course, they were both in their underwear. So polite conversation might very well be out the window.
She was embarrassed, for a moment, when she realized she had been standing there staring. But only for a moment. Because then she realized that he had been staring right back. That he was looking over her body. And she forgot to be embarrassed at all, because he looked...hungry. For her.
And yet again, she tried to remember if she had ever felt like anyone particularly cared about her. Matías certainly hadn’t cared whether or not she was his wife, or some equally suitable woman. Sometimes she wondered if it mattered much to her father who she was as a daughter. Or if any child willing to do his bidding would have done. He didn’t know her, after all. Not really. He only knew who she tried to be for his benefit.
Diego seemed to care.
That heat and black fire in his eyes told her it was something more than caring too. Something dangerous and illicit that she had never imagined she would ever inspire in a man. She hardly knew anything. Had barely been kissed. Why would a man want her that way? She didn’t have bombshell curves, or dramatic beauty. Whenever she made the style section of the papers they praised her slim figure, it was true, but the kind of figure that clothes hung off had little to do with the kind of figure men found sexually desirable.
Except, Diego seemed to desire her.
But he hadn’t come to her. It didn’t make sense. Particularly not with how he looked at her now.
“Beautiful,” he said.
“Then why didn’t you come for me?”
“I meant what I said to you before. I was not going to force myself on you.”
“We had an agreement,” she said weakly.
“That is not why a man wants a woman to come to his bed, tesoro. Not because there is an agreement. Not even because we spoke about it. I want you in my bed because you desire me. You’re here now because you are...curious, I think. But curiosity is not enough either.”
“What do you want from me?”
“I want you to need it,” he said.
She blinked. “I don’t even know what that means.”
“Then you don’t need it yet.”
He turned away from her, and she was stunned for a moment by the sight of his sculpted back, her throat going dry. And then, indignation took over. “Are you rejecting me?”
“Does it bother you?”
“Yes,” she said.
He turned again. “Why?” His tone was savage, intense.
“Because I... Because I...”
“What?”
“I want you.” The words spilled out of her mouth, and she was too upset to be embarrassed by them.
“Do you?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Does your body ache for me?”
“Yes,” she said, her voice low and steady. “Does it make you happy to hear that?”
“Yes,” he said, his voice transforming into a purr. “It is what I want to hear. But I must know more. When you were lying in that bed were your nipples tight?”
She flushed. “Yes.”
“And between your legs... Did you ache for me, my darling?”
Shamefully, even as he spoke the words, she felt it happening to her. As if it were by magic. As if he were magic. A dark, dangerous kind of magic that she should want to run from.
Except, she had already made the choice to run to him. And fleeing now seemed silly. Especially when he had tried to turn away and she had stopped him.
She tilted her head up, did her best to stand there before him, proud and unashamed, even while her knees shook and her stomach pitched. “Yes.”
“We can start with that,” he said, closing the distance between them, grabbing her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “You want me. From there, I can teach you need.”
Before she could speak, he claimed her mouth with his, and her entire world bloomed into color, and she found herself being dragged against his har
d body, found herself surrendering to his touch, his kiss. To every slick pass of his tongue against hers.
This wasn’t about what she should want. Wasn’t about what she should do. It wasn’t about being good. It wasn’t about anyone but her.
And she realized then, that it was about taking. Because she felt claimed already. But he was also doing something to her, giving her something that she had never imagined she needed.
Need.
He angled his head, parting her lips, taking the kiss impossibly deep. And the shaft of near pain that seated itself between her thighs made her understand that word in a way she never had before. Need.
This was need.
She expected fear to come and overtake that need, but it didn’t. There was nothing. Nothing beyond the slick glide of his tongue against hers, those large, warm hands skating over her curves. His body was hard, crisp chest hair rough, where she was smooth. Where she was soft.
She had known that reading about things like this with a layer of fantasy between herself and the words couldn’t compare. But she hadn’t fully appreciated just how overwhelmingly tactile making love to a man would be. It was everything. Overwhelming all of her senses, his musky, male scent intoxicating her, making her feel dizzy and bold and like a stranger inside her overly sensitized skin.
But she liked it.
“I had such fantasies,” he said, his voice rough. He slid his hands down to her rear, cupping her and lifting her, urging her legs around his back as he carried them to the bed, lifting her and setting her so that she was standing on the mattress and he was still rooted to the floor. “Fantasies of tearing that wedding gown off of you earlier, throwing you down on the floor and making love to you there. Did you know?”
“No,” she said. “I didn’t. Because you didn’t do any of that. You didn’t do anything at all.”
“No. Because something changed.”
“What?” She nearly whispered the question. She was desperate to know what had changed since the moment he had stolen her out of her bedroom window. What had changed between them. What had changed in his heart, in his soul.