“What could you have done that was so embarrassing?” Her eyes were wide as she pulled away from him enough to turn her upper body and face him.
“The obvious thing.” He was meeting her eyes now, only occasionally glancing away. “We…we started to consummate our marriage. You were touching me and then it was…it was over before we got anywhere.”
She suddenly realized what must have happened, a wave of heat and excitement washing over her as she visualized it. She desperately wished she could remember what it had felt like to touch him that way. “Well, you were drunk too. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”
He gave a dry chuckle. “It’s definitely something to be embarrassed about—although it’s just as well it happened. I would have felt terrible if we’d actually had sex while you were too drunk to say no.”
He was serious about that. She could see it on his face. And her head, her heart, her body were all roaring with how much she wanted him. She couldn’t seem to hold back anymore.
She reached over and brushed a loose piece of hair off his forehead. “What makes you think I would have said no?”
He blinked, his body suddenly going very still. “Wouldn’t you?”
She shook her head, throwing caution and wisdom and all good sense to the wind. “I don’t know about then. But…but I wouldn’t say no now.”
He made a little noise in his throat, still holding himself perfectly still. “You mean you’d want to…”
He looked so surprised that she was immediately terrified she’d made a fool of herself after all. “I totally understand if you don’t want to—”
“Don’t want to?” His voice was no more than a rasp. “You think I don’t want to?” Finally, he moved, reaching out to take her hand and move it down under the covers to his lap.
She gasped as she felt that he was hard beneath his pants. Hard. Aroused. For her.
His eyes closed as she moved her hand against the length of him. And when he opened them again, his gaze was hot and intense and almost wild. He took her face in both of his hands. “Kelly,” he murmured, just before he kissed her.
He pushed her backward with the force of his kiss, and soon she was on her back, with Peter on top of her, kissing her deeply, hungrily, desperately.
She was responding in kind, wrapping her arms around his neck and rocking her body up into his. She could barely see, barely think. She couldn’t do anything but feel. And she was feeling so much—pleasure, excitement, joy, surprise—there was no way to process it.
But this was exactly what she wanted to do, and by some sort of miracle, Peter wanted it too.
He kissed her until her head spun, and then his hands started to roam over her body until she was almost dizzy from the sensations. He pulled her camisole up over her head, and his eyes went even hotter as he stared down at her naked body.
“Peter,” she said, arching up slightly, her body out of control, even while a wave of self-consciousness overtook her.
“God, Kelly, you’re…you’re…so…” He cupped one of her breasts, and then he tweaked the nipple between his fingers.
She cried out in response, wondering if anything had ever felt so good. But she managed to ask, “I’m so what?”
He met her eyes. “You’re so…everything I want.”
He couldn’t have said anything else that would have thrilled her more. She pulled his head down into another kiss.
When he finally pulled away from her mouth, he trailed kisses down her neck until he’d reached her naked breasts. He gave them each attention—more eager than skillful—but his ministrations were so effective that soon she couldn’t stay quiet. She writhed and moaned and scratched his back with her nails until he finally raised his head and smiled down at her.
“What are you smiling about?” she asked, able to focus again at the break in sensations.
“Why wouldn’t I be smiling?”
“Well, you don’t have look smug about it.”
“Do I look smug?”
“Definitely.”
“I’ll try to work on my expression then.” He was still smiling—soft and fond—as he leaned down to kiss her again.
She sank into the feeling of how much he seemed to want her, how much he seemed to care about her, how much he seemed to want to be with her this way.
When his mouth moved down to her breasts again and flicked her tight nipple with his tongue, she cried out loudly at the jolt of pleasure.
“Peter, I’m dying here,” she gasped, sliding her hands down to clutch at his ass, feeling him through the fabric of his pants. “I’m not used to this.”