Another stifled gasp instantly stilled the automatic slide of his body against hers.
A virgin.
His wife was a virgin.
It didn’t matter how many times he repeated the words in his mind, they still didn’t make any sense.
If only he’d known he wouldn’t have touched her.
Liar.
Even the knowledge of her innocence wouldn’t have stopped him. She was a fever in his blood, had been since the beginning. With every day she stayed here it had become inevitable that this happened.
He hung his head, tension at breaking point across his shoulders as he fought for control. Taking his weight on one hand, he wrapped his other arm beneath her and rolled to his side, then to his back, keeping her clamped close.
Still they were intimately joined, but now Tessa was a warm, limp blanket above him and his hands smoothed over her bare back, as if somehow that might soothe the hurt he’d inflicted.
Held close in his arms, she felt like every male fantasy come to life, her naked flesh as soft and decadent as in any erotic dream. Her long hair spilling over him was that of a temptress. The innocence of her somehow was more exciting than anything he’d experienced.
He told himself he should be ashamed, finding primal, possessive satisfaction in the knowledge that he was her first, the only man she’d allowed in. Instead he gloried in the knowledge.
‘I hurt you,’ he said abruptly, his voice gruff. ‘I’m sorry.’ Never before had he needed to say that to a woman he’d taken to bed. To any woman.
She lifted her head and their eyes met. She looked stunned, pupils dilated and eyes overbright.
‘I—’ She cleared her throat. ‘I’m OK.’
Sure. And he was Prince Charming. He hadn’t missed the unsteadiness in her voice. Anyone could tell—
His eyes closed on a pang of pleasure as her muscles squeezed around him. Did she have any idea what that did to him? He stifled a groan.
There it was again. Tentative at first, then stronger, drawing him deeper, just where he most wanted to be.
Stavros opened his eyes and found her staring, those large, luminous eyes fixed on him. Her expression had changed. Her tempting lips were parted in a pout that resonated with sensual awareness.
She looked like a woman ready for a man. The realisation sent his blood pumping. Anticipation roared through him.
Now it would be all right.
Yet he’d need to be careful, take it slowly and let her set the pace. It would probably kill him. But at least he’d die smiling.
Tessa stared down at the broad chest beneath her, registered the sheen that glistened on his dark-gold flesh and wished she had the nerve to reach out and caress him as she itched to.
In that first, frightening moment when she’d absorbed the shock of his penetration, Tessa had feared that what she’d so longed for was a physical impossibility. That he was too big, she too small, for this to work. But as the seconds had lengthened and Stavros had let her adjust to the invasion of his body, the shock had worn off. The sting of pain had disappeared. Even the discomfort of this new experience had eased. Now she wanted…
She wanted…him.
Tentatively she hitched herself a little higher and immediately felt the convulsive tightening of his hands in the small of her back, pressing her close.
Oh, that felt good. Everywhere it felt good. She shut her eyes, focusing on these remarkable new sensations.
Was that a rumble of sound, deep in his chest? She opened her eyes and met Stavros’ gaze. His lids were lowered, hooded at half-mast over sultry eyes that sent a tingle through her blood. She sighed and her chest moved against his, the friction delicious.
And then slowly, almost gently, he tilted his hips up against hers. The resulting sensation made her blood sing.
At her hiss of surprise he stopped and she could have cursed out loud. ‘Please,’ she murmured, lifting her head higher. ‘Do that again.’
His gaze dropped to where her breasts met his bare flesh and heat shimmered in the air between them. Tessa felt it burn right through her.
His lips curved into a tight smile that made her wonder if he was in pain. Again, oh, so slowly, he pushed up and she trembled at the force of the reaction rippling through her.
‘That’s…’ She swallowed down on her dry, scratchy throat. ‘That’s—’
‘Good?’ he murmured.
She shook her head. ‘Good’ didn’t go anywhere near describing how wonderful it felt.
‘Better than that,’ she sighed as he moved again and automatically she tilted her hips to meet him. Her eyelids drifted lower at the heady bliss of this slow seduction.
‘Sit up,’ he urged, clasping her shoulders and pulling her higher till she sat astride him, her calves against his hips. ‘That’s it.’ His voice died away in a drawn-out groan that echoed her sigh of satisfaction. Nothing had ever felt as good as this, especially when he rocked her slowly.