Rachel gulped—and then thought of her wobbly bits that she wasn’t sure she wanted Mateo seeing. ‘Maybe we should move to the bed,’ she suggested. ‘Get under the covers.’
Mateo arched an eyebrow. ‘Are you trying to hide from me?’
‘A little,’ she confessed. ‘Let’s face it, Mateo, when it comes to basic good looks—’
He laid a finger against her lips. ‘I don’t want to hear it. Not one more disparaging word. This is our wedding night, Rachel, and you are a beautiful, gorgeous, sexy queen. Don’t ever forget it.’
His finger was still against her lips as she regarded him with wide eyes. ‘I won’t,’ she whispered, and then Mateo lifted his finger from her lips and finished unbuttoning his shirt, shrugging it off his broad shoulders in one sinuous movement.
He was breathtakingly beautiful, all hard, sculpted muscles, pecs and abs burnished and defined, making Rachel long to touch him, but she felt too timid.
Mateo met her shyly questioning gaze. ‘Touch me,’ he commanded, and so she did.
The trail of Rachel’s fingertips along his abdomen had Mateo’s muscles flexing involuntarily. Her hesitant caress was positively enflaming, with an intensity he hadn’t expected. He responded to this woman, and it wasn’t just merely physical. Her artless confession, her shy looks, that small smile, everything...
It humbled him, that Rachel was so honest. She’d experienced so little in life—so little love, so little desire—and yet she’d still held onto her pragmatic attitude, her good humour. And even though the intensity of his own feeling, as well as the intimacy of Rachel’s confession, had Mateo instinctively wanting to throw up all the old barricades, he didn’t.
Because this wasn’t about him, or at least not just him. It was about Rachel, and showing her how beautiful and desirable she was. It was about making her feel cherished and wanted, because right now Mateo realised he wanted that for her more than anything. More than his instinct for self-protection. He could give her this. He needed to give her this.
Her fingers skimmed up his chest and she looked at him with a question in her eyes. ‘You can touch me a lot more than that,’ he told her. ‘But first we need to get some clothes off.’
Her eyes widened and she bit her lip. She was nervous about being naked in front of him. Mateo knew that, and it felt like a gift. He would cherish it. Cherish her.
‘Turn around,’ he said softly, and slowly she did.
Her ball gown had about a thousand tiny buttons from the middle of her back right down to the base. Mateo began undoing them one by one as Rachel sucked in a hard breath.
‘I think there’s a lovely nightgown around here somewhere,’ she said shakily. ‘Francesca picked it out...’
‘We’ll save it for later.’ His fingers skimmed her skin as he slid each button from its hole, revealing the smooth, silky expanse of her back. He spread his hands, enjoying the whisper-soft feel of her skin against his palms. With the last button undone, the dress fell about her waist. The gown had had a built-in bra, and so there was nothing on her top half and Mateo liked it that way.
He reached around and filled his hands with the warm softness of her breasts, and she let out a shocked gasp at his touch. After a second she leaned back against him and he brushed his thumbs across her nipples, making them both shudder. Her gown slithered lower on her hips, and it only took one swift tug to have it falling in a crumpled heap around her calves.
Taking a deep breath, Rachel stepped out of it, and then turned to face him, her heart—and all her fear—in her eyes. She wore nothing but a lacy slip of underwear, and a pair of stockings with lace garters. Her hair had half fallen out of the elegant up-do, and lay in tumbled, chestnut waves over her shoulders. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips bee-stung, her eyes like stars. And her body...all the blood rushed from his head as Mateo gazed upon her.
‘Rachel,’ he said in a voice that throbbed both with sincerity and desire. ‘You are truly beautiful.’
‘I feel beautiful,’ she whispered, sounding amazed, and Mateo reached for her. The press of her breasts against his bare chest was exquisite, but he wanted more. He let her go to briefly shrug out of his clothes, muttering with impatience as he fumbled with his waistcoat, the faff of his trouser buttons. Finally he was free, as nearly naked as she was, and he drew her to the bed.
They fell upon it in a tangle of covers and limbs, and Mateo ran one hand from her ankle to her hip, revelling in the silken sweetness of her skin.
‘Touch me, too,’ he whis
pered and she pressed her palm flat against his chest, before an impish smile came over her face and she trailed her hand down and down, wrapping her fingers around the throbbing heat of him.
‘I’ve never done this before,’ she whispered as her fingers explored and stroked. ‘Am I doing it right?’
Mateo could not keep from groaning aloud. ‘Yes,’ he told her as she continued her artless, and very effective, caresses. ‘Yes.’
She continued to stroke and explore, her caresses becoming less and less hesitant, making his blood heat and his mind blur. He was going to lose his self-control very, very soon.
‘This might surprise you,’ he managed as he gently but firmly removed her hand, ‘but I am not nearly as experienced as you seem to think I am, and it has been rather a long time since I have been in this type of situation.’
Her eyes widened as she looked at him. ‘Really?’
‘Really. And if you keep doing what you’re doing, our wedding night will be rather short and, I fear, even more disappointing. So let me touch you now.’
A small smile curved her mouth as he gently pushed her onto her back. ‘All right.’