When she stood as naked as he, he straightened to his full height, took several deep breaths, and said, "I want to look at you. It seems as if I've waited all my life for the privilege."
He took a step backward. His eyes started at the top of her head. As though seeing her for the first time, he analyzed her irregular halo of golden hair and each feature of her face with adoring, worshipful eyes.
As he continued his visual tour downward, each separate part of her flamed to life: her sloping shoulders and slender throat; her full, round breasts crowned with coral nipples that strained toward him; her narrow waist and flaring hips; her long, pale legs.
He looked up at her and smiled. "Do you remember when you arched your back and thrust your breasts forward that first night while I was drying dishes?"
"You almost dropped the plate."
"I almost dropped my scruples, too. I wanted to rip off your blouse and see if your breasts were as perfect as they promised to be."
"Are you disappointed?"
In answer, he leaned forward and kissed both delicate crests. "Far from disappointed." He cleared his throat and straightened again. "I'm digressing. Turn around."
Docilely she obeyed. He lifted her arms to extend horizontally out from her body. His fingertips traveled down her sides, following the dip of her waist and the curve of her hips. He tested the round fullness of her bottom with gently squeezing hands. On the way back up his hands slid around her body and trailed up her rib cage to close over her breasts. He came up behind her, solid and hard and warm.
With the tip of his nose, he moved her hair aside and whispered in her ear. "You're exquisite."
Her hands folded around his where they held her breasts like cherished works of art. "So are you. I love the way you look. I have from the moment I saw you stepping out of that shower." She twisted, and their mouths met and held for a long kiss over her shoulder.
Without breaking their kiss, Ian turned her to face him and drew her against him in a way that left his level of arousal no secret. Like a rod of velvet-covered steel, his manhood burrowed into her abdomen. "It's time, Shay. I'm going to love you."
He bent slightly at the knees and folded his arms beneath her hips. When he straightened, his head was even with her breasts. He moved his face between them as he carried her to the bed and laid her down. A hospitable housekeeper had turned down the bed while they were at dinner.
She felt like a statue infused with life as she lay there, her hair spread out behind her head on the snowy, scented linen. Her breasts flattened but only slightly when she lay on her back, so well were they fashioned. Her stomach formed a shallow valley beneath her delicate ribcage. A soft, golden tuft of hair at the top of her thighs was a visible reminder that she wasn't marble, but flesh and blood. Shyly alluring, her legs lay together gracefully.
Ian's knees sank into the mattress as he knelt over her. "I could almost be content just looking at you." He kissed her, his tongue meandering roguishly inside her mouth. "Almost."
His hands fondled her breasts again, his fingertips preparing the way for the lips that closed around nipples aching with love.
Shay wound his glossy black hair around her fingers and held his head fast as it moved with seductive slowness over her body. The daring of his tongue was never ending. On the curves of her breast, the pouting nipples, the dimple of her navel, it danced to an erotic tune. The sweet nibbling of his teeth brought every cell in her body to full awareness. As he dropped rapid, damp kisses on the fevered skin of her abdomen, her muscles contracted in ecstatic reaction.
His inquisitive hands were never satisfied. Repeatedly he caressed her most intimately, whispering how pretty she was there. Her throat arched as her head dug into the pillow. She became mindless to anything but his talented touches and the verbal tributes he paid her.
Her body softened as she allowed his hands and mouth to do as they wished, to shape as they would. She throbbed with a desire so intense that a gasp tore through her lips when his fingers gently parted and tenderly probed the innermost source of her passion.
With softly spoken directions and instructive hands, he positioned them so they might fully enjoy each other. Taking her hand, his tongue rasped across each of her fingertips before he lowered her hand and covered himself with it. "Touch me, Shay." His voice was husky with driving desire, but kind, unhurried, considerate. When she applied a squeezing pressure, she was gratified to hear his ragged sigh of intense pleasure.
She savored the feel of him, his clean scent, the salty taste of his skin. It became of essential importance that she return the love he was giving to her. Her caresses grew bolder, her displays of love unrestricted.
Her eyes fluttered closed, and she trembled in the throes of the fullest stimulation she had ever experienced. His touch was magic. With fingertips, lips, and tongue he caressed parts of her that she now realized had been untouched before. She hadn't known what sexual loving was until this moment of unselfish physical sharing with Ian.
She felt her stomach tighten, and reflexively her thighs did the same. Her breasts quivered with new excitement, and she felt herself slipping off the edge of the world.
But she didn't want to go alone.
"Ian," she called, desperately hoping she had managed to voice that beloved name aloud, for she was moving ever faster toward that splendid oblivion. She pulled unmercifully on his hair until he turned, lifted himself over her, and entered her body.
"Shay.My wife. I love you dearly."
He sank deeper into her tight warmth, and she surrounded him with her love.
When she did fall off the edge of the universe, he was with her, there to catch her to him gently when she coasted back to earth.
"Shay?"
Her whispered name came to her like a ghost. She had awakened with a smile of self-derision on her face. Whatever had made her think Ian might not be an expert lover? He had spent the night proving the contrary to her. Her body was pleasantly replete in the aftermath of his extraordinary lovemaking. Apparently he didn't think the night was over.