“Oops,” she said.
He wanted to say something teasing and lighthearted as well, but he couldn’t think. His hands slid up her sides and then cupped her breasts, his thumbs teasing the distended points. She gave a low moan and rolled her neck, letting her head fall back. It was such a sensual movement that his cock actually throbbed in response. He rolled his hips, and she moaned again as his hard cock nudged her core. He wanted the sheets between them stripped away. He wanted to be inside her.
He could still show her his legs. He should show her, but dear God, look at her. How was he supposed to resist her? How was he supposed to put a stop to what was coming next? Nicholas leaned over and blew out the candle beside the bed. The chamber wasn’t completely dark, but the fire in the hearth was low and banked and gave off only the weakest glow. He could barely make out her features in the darkness. But he could feel them.
He slid his hands down to the garment at her waist, grasped it, then pulled it up and over her head. He tossed it away then clasped her bare hips. He ran his fingers over her hips, the curve of her bottom, her thighs, then slid his hands to the inside of her thighs. He felt her stiffen in anticipation of his touch. Then, to his surprise, she slid her hands from his shoulders over his chest and down his abdomen. Her own hands paused at the juncture of the bed sheets. Then she rose up on her knees and slid the bedsheets down almost to his knees.
Her hands returned to his abdomen, and he clenched his fingers on her thighs as she made a slow trek down to his groin. Now she paused as well, her hands just a fraction away from where he wanted them, wrapped around him.
He moved his fingers closer to her core, brushing over the dewy skin there, and she followed suit, brushing her hand over the root of his shaft, several fingers lightly touching him. He parted her intimate lips and slid one finger into the seam of her, feeling her heat immediately. She closed her hand around him then moved her hand up to the head of his erection and back down again. Nicholas couldn’t stop a groan. She must have felt encouraged because she did it again. If she kept that up, he would spill his seed on her hand, and that wasn’t where he wanted to be when he climaxed. Distracting her, he slid a finger inside her then another. Her hand on him stilled as he pushed deeper inside her and found that sensitive numb with the pad of his thumb.
She inhaled sharply, and he felt her inner muscles clench. Her hips moved out of instinct, and he knew that though she might never have experienced this position before, it was made for her. Her hand on his cock moved again, sliding up until her thumb teased a drop of arousal from his head.
“Do you want me inside you?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said on a breath. “Please.”
“Then take me,” he said.
She stilled, seeming not to understand. He withdrew his hands and put them on her hips, guiding her body until she rested against his cock. He nudged upward, sliding against her warm channel, and she responded with a similar movement. He lifted her bottom slightly until the head of his cock rested at her entrance. Now it was up to her to take him inside.
“Oh, I see,” she said, wonder in her voice as she moved her body down to take a half inch of him.
Now Nicholas was the one who inhaled sharply. He wanted to demand she take more, but more than that, he wanted her to discover the pleasure of their joining at her pace. She slid down another fraction, and Nicholas tried to think of something banal—pastures, corn, horseshoes.
Less tentative now, she surprised him by lowering herself quickly and sheathing him to the root. His hands on her hips tightened, and she let out a surprised gasp. “Is this right?” she asked, her voice breathless.
“God, yes,” he said, his own voice low and hoarse.
“What do I do now?”
“What do you want to do?” He knew exactly what he wanted her to do. He knew what he wanted to do to her. He wanted to thrust hard and fast into the heat of her. He could hardly stop himself from doing so. The pleasure of being inside her tight body was making his head spin. “What feels good to you?” he asked. “Whatever you like. I’ll like it too.”
She moved her hips, pulling back and then taking him deep again. “Do you like that?”
“Yes,” he said through clenched teeth.
She did it again, finding her rhythm on the third try, and Nicholas had to concentrate not to dig his fingers painfully into her hips. Pastures. Corn. Horseshoes...riding. No, not that image.
“Nicholas,” she said, his voice like a breath.
“I’m here,” he said. “You feel so good.” He couldn’t hold back much longer. Her movements had quickened, and he knew if he could last longer, she would find her climax. But he couldn’t last much longer, and he wanted to help her to it. He slipped his hand between them, letting his thumb slide against her swollen nub. As she moved, she rocked against his thumb, and her movements became more deliberate until she had him buried deep inside her and she was grinding against him.
“Oh, yes.” Her voice would probably carry as would the cries she made, but Nicholas didn’t care. He could barely keep his own groans contained. “Oh, Nicholas.”
He loved the way she said his name even as he felt her inner muscles tighten and grip him hard. The last of his control slipped away, and he followed her over the edge into pleasure. He was dimly aware of her crying out, of her body bowing back, but mostly he was slammed by his own hard, jolting climax. He couldn’t stop a surprised shout as he spilled inside her, his hips pumping into her and lifting her up.
And then he was falling back down, and she falling with him, her body limp as she crumpled against him. Their breaths came fast but in unison, and he lifted a hand to brush it down her bare back. It had been a long time. It had been years since he’d been with a woman, but it hadn’t been so long that he didn’t remember how the act had felt.
And it had never felt like it had just now. He had never come so hard or been so utterly spent. He could hardly move, and all he wanted was to roll over and gather Amelia in his arms. The feel of her against him was everything—the warmth of her body, the softness of her skin, the sweet fragrance in her hair.
But he couldn’t roll over and hold her—not easily at least. His legs were stiff and difficult to maneuver. And now that he was coming back to himself, he realized his left leg was beginning to ache.
“Amelia, could you—”
“I’m too heavy. I’m sorry.”
He hated the way she seemed to scramble off him. He hated that she felt the need to be careful with him. He should be the one taking care with her. Instead, he’d ruined the moment by making her feel guilty and worried that she’d hurt him.
She moved away, and he quickly pulled the bedclothes over his legs and up to his waist. He should have showed her before things had gone too far. She’d hate him when she saw his scars and remembered what she’d done with him. But he was selfish and always had too much pride. He’d wanted to pretend he was whole again one last time.
“Where should I...” Amelia began, obviously not certain where she belonged in his bed. It was a large bed with plenty of room for her, but if he allowed her to stay, she might see his injuries in the morning.
If he allowed her to stay, he might want her to stay every night. And then it would be that much harder to adjust to being alone again.