In truth, she was swimming in such deep waters she was thankful she could count on Nicholas to jump in with her.
Climbing fully onto the mattress, Isabella took hold of his ankles, one in each hand. “I see a beautiful room, full of strong, masculine furnishings. The smoldering fire casts a golden glow over the warm brown tones of the rug and bed hangings.” And because she was awfully curious whether or not she’d do better to modify her initial perceptions, she asked in an aside, “Are they by chance, brown—like your eyes?”
“They will be tomorrow.”
Smiling deep inside, she moved one hand from his ankle to caress the embroidered silk counterpane beneath his leg. “I see sumptuous bronze bed coverings and beige linen sheets beneath.”
“New ones,” he assured. “I ordered them from the best linen-draper in London.”
“Thoughtful of you. Now do hush, I have a lot to see yet.” Her fingers returned to his leg and she swept them upward, hearing his breath hitch and ignoring the quiver the fine hairs on his legs kept causing in her belly. (Or attempting to ignore it, otherwise she’d never be able to keep describing things, to show Nicholas the world he’d given her.) “I see muscular calves and—oh, dear—slightly knobby knees—”
He gave a bark of laughter.
“And, ahmm…” She faltered when she encountered the firm, flexing flesh of his thighs and the smooth, smooth skin above, and to the sides when she stretched her arms higher and around—way around—certain anatomical protrusions—
“I’m afraid you might have missed something there.”
As though battling the urge to reverse direction and go back, her fingers dug into the sides of his torso. “Some things we aren’t always ready to see,” she answered primly.
By the time she renewed her daring sufficiently to continue on and flattened her palms on the corded muscles of his stomach, Isabella thought perhaps both she and the man she explored were shaking equally.
What to do next? Reach forward to stroke his enticing chest or instead pay particular attention to the private, upright beacon of his, the one that beckoned discovery as much as it intimidated?
Inexperience made the decision for her.
Slapping her palms together, Isabella interlocked her fingers and withdrew, sitting back until her posterior came to rest on his legs. “I see a woman who’s lost her courage to explore,” she confessed, more than a little dismayed when she discerned how very damp her center had become. “And one who fears she’s leaking and may soon abandon ship if her pirate doesn’t hurry and claim—”
Nicholas surged to sitting so fast he almost knocked her off the bed.
After only a second’s groping, he clasped her shoulders, quickly sliding his hands to her waist. He hauled her to him, dragging her over that protruding part of him and right up his body until he held her strongly against his chest.
Lips at her temple, hand splayed on her spine, he whispered, “So, my lady, you’d like for your ravishment to commence?”
Isabella lengthened her legs along his, petted the broad shoulders beneath her hands and exhaled, flattening her tender breasts as she melted onto his bare skin. “I think… I think…” She feathered her fingers up his neck and jaw to take hold of the blindfold covering his eyes, pulling it off. “I think, rather than be ravaged by a pirate tonight, I just want my husband to make me his.”
His fingers flexed on her back, echoing the twitch of his male part against her abdomen.
“Do you now?” he said as silkily as she’d ever heard him.
Before he could kiss her though, Isabella pushed up onto her forearms and blurted, “I do still want to play pirate—only not tonight.”
Chuckling deeply, Nicholas rolled to his side, bringing her with him. “I’m certain that can be arranged. But for now, let me arrange you…”
He angled one of her legs over his waist, opening her in the most vulnerable way.
Her body contracted in a series of tiny tremors and he instantly paused, hand just below her knee. “Issybelle? You’re grimacing. Shall I stop? Or mayhap slow down?”
Telling her face muscles to behave, she scooted one arm between them to toy with the light whorl of hair in the center of his chest. Now that she knew what he looked like, so easily could she envision the slight, concerned scowl furrowing his forehead, the bisected eyebrow lifted in consternation, the serious, half tilt to his lips as he awaited her reply.
She pressed her hand to his heart. “I’m perfect. Please, continue on.”
“Ah,” his voice and the image in her mind smiled. Dimples appeared. “Just what I wanted to hear.” He returned to stroking her leg as he leaned forward and kissed her. First her forehead, both her cheeks, her lips…