While his lips and tongue explored her mouth, his hand dipped ever lower, until he reached the moist heat of her womanhood. She gasped again, but he was relentless, teasing and tickling, delighting in each of her squirms and moans.
“What are you doing?” she whispered against his lips.
He gave her a lopsided grin, as one of his fingers slid inside. “Making you feel really, really good?”
She moaned, which pleased him. If she’d managed intelligible speech he would have known he wasn’t doing his job correctly.
He moved over her, nudging her legs farther apart with one of his thighs, and letting out a moan of his own as his manhood settled against her hip. Even there, she felt perfect, and he was nearly bursting at the thought of sinking within her.
He was trying to hold his control, trying to make sure that he remained slow and gentle, but his need was getting stronger and stronger, and his own breath was growing fast and ragged.
She was ready for him, or at least as ready as she was going to be. He knew that this first time would bring her pain, but he prayed it wouldn’t last more than a moment.
He fitted himself against her opening, using his arms to brace his body a few inches above hers. He whispered her name, and her dark eyes, hazed by passion, focused on his.
“I’m going to make you mine now,” he said, inching forward as he spoke. Her body tightened spasmodically around him; the feeling was so exquisite he had to grit his teeth against it. It would be so, so easy to lose himself in the moment, to plunge forward and seek only his own pleasure.
“Tell me if it hurts,” he whispered hoarsely, allowing himself to move forward only by tiny increments. She was certainly aroused, but she was very small, and he knew he needed to give her time to adjust to his intimate invasion.
She nodded.
He froze, barely able to comprehend the stab of pain in his chest. “It hurts?”
She shook her head. “No, I only meant I’ll tell you if it does. It doesn’t hurt, but it feels so very . . . odd.”
Anthony fought a smile and he leaned down to kiss the tip of her nose. “I don’t know that I’ve ever been called odd while making love to a woman before.”
For a moment it looked as if she were afraid that she’d insulted him, then her mouth quivered into a small smile. “Perhaps,” she said softly, “you’ve been making love to the wrong women.”
“Perhaps so,” he replied, moving forward yet another inch.
“May I tell you a secret?” she asked.
He nudged farther. “Of course,” he murmured.
“When I first saw you . . . tonight, I mean . . .”
“In all my glory?” he teased, lifting his brows into an arrogant arch.
She shot him a rather enchanting scowl. “I didn’t think this could possibly work.”
He moved forward. He was close, so close to embedding himself fully within her. “May I tell you a secret?” he returned.
“Of course.”
“Your secret”—one more little thrust and he was resting against her maidenhead—”wasn’t very much of a secret.”
Her brows drew together in question.
He grinned. “It was written all over your face.”
She scowled again, and it made him want to explode in laughter. “But now,” he said, keeping a scrupulously straight face, “I have a question for you.”
She gazed at him in response, clearly waiting for him to elucidate further.
He leaned down, brushed his lips against her ear, and whispered, “What do you think now?”
For a moment she didn’t respond in any way, then he felt her start in surprise when she finally figured out what he was asking. “Are we done?” she asked in clear disbelief.
This time he did burst out in laughter. “Far from it, my dear wife,” he gasped, wiping his eyes with one hand as he tried to hold himself up with the other. “Far, far from it.” His eyes growing serious, he added, “This is where it might hurt a little, Kate. But I promise you, the pain will never be repeated.”
She nodded, but he could feel her body tense up, which he knew would only make it worse. “Shhh,” he crooned. “Relax.”
She nodded, her eyes shut. “I am relaxed.”
He was glad she couldn’t see him smile. “You are most definitely not relaxed.”
Her eyes flew open. “Yes, I am.”
“I can’t believe this,” Anthony said, as if there were someone else in the room to hear him. “She’s arguing with me on our wedding night.”
“I’m—”
He cut her off with a finger to her lips. “Are you ticklish?”
“Am I ticklish?”
He nodded. “Ticklish.”
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why?”
“That sounds like a yes to me,” he said with a grin.
“Not at—Oooohhh!” She let out a squeal as one of his hands found a particularly sensitive spot under arm. “Anthony, stop!” she gasped, squirming desperately beneath him. “I can’t bear it! I—”
He plunged forward.
“Oh,” she breathed. “Oh, my.”
He groaned, barely able to believe just how good it felt to be buried completely within her. “Oh, my, indeed.”
“We’re not done now, are we?”
He shook his head slowly as his body began to move in an ancient rhythm. “Not even close,” he murmured.
His mouth took hers as one of his hands snaked up to caress her breast. She was utter perfection beneath him, her hips rising to meet his, moving tentatively at first, then with a vigor that matched her rising passion.
“Oh, God, Kate,” he moaned, his ability to form flowery sentences completely lost in the primitive heat of the moment. “You’re so good. So good.”
Her breath was coming faster and faster, and each little wispy gasp inflamed his passion even more. He wanted to possess her, to own her, to hold her beneath him and never let her go. And with each thrust it was getting more difficult to put her needs before his. His mind screamed that this was her first time and he had to have a care for her, but his body demanded release.
With a ragged groan, he forced himself to stop thrusting and catch his breath. “Kate?” he said, barely recognizing his own voice. It sounded hoarse, detached, desperate.
Her eyes, which had been closed as her head tossed from side to side, flew open. “Don’t stop,” she gasped, “please don’t stop. I’m so close to something . . . I don’t know what.”
“Oh, God,” he groaned, plunging back in to the hilt, throwing his head back as his spine arched. “You’re so beautiful, so unbelievably—Kate?”
She’d stiffened beneath him, and not in climax.
He froze. “What’s wrong?” he whispered.
He saw a brief flash of pain—the emotional sort, not the physical—flash across her face before she hid it and whispered, “Nothing.”
“That’s not true,” he said in a low voice. His arms were straining from holding himself above her, but he barely noticed. Every fiber of his being was focused on her face, which was shuttered and pained, despite her obvious attempts to hide it.
“You called me beautiful,” she whispered.