Page 55 of Midnight Rider

He chuckled. “More questions!”

“I don’t know anything about men and women. Who else can I ask?”

He moved to the bed and sat down beside her. “I can use a sheath,” he told her, and explained where and how it was used.

Her eyes widened. “But isn’t that uncomfortable for you?”

“A little. And it might be as uncomfortable for you. But it’s a tried-and-true method of preventing pregnancy.”

She stared down at the tips of her high-button shoes and grimaced.

“Something disturbs you?”

She shifted. “It would be like making love with gloves on,” she murmured.

His heart skipped. “I see. And you don’t like the idea?”

“I like...” She hesitated, not able to look at him. “I like...feeling you.”

His breathing became audible. “Feeling me...inside you?” he whispered.

She caught her own breath. Seconds later, she was on her back on the quilt and Eduardo was making a meal of her mouth. She felt his hands on her body, warm and welcome, and, feeling exquisite hunger, she dragged him down on her.

He hesitated. “One moment.”

He got up and locked and bolted the bedroom door. He turned back to her with his hands already working at the buttons of his shirt.

She watched him undress without embarrassment, lying propped on her elbows with her eyes growing larger and larger when he stepped out of the last garment.

He moved toward the bed. She sat up, her breath coming in gasps. She tore at buttons and fastenings, welcoming his hands when they took over the task.

“Will you have enough breath for this?” he asked tautly as he eased her down on the bed and pulled away the lace-trimmed bloomers she wore.

“Oh, yes,” she whispered unsteadily.

He lay her back on the bed and sat beside her, enjoying her nudity. “Take your hair down.”

She obliged him, tearing out pins in her haste, because he was obviously going to wait until she finished before he went any further.

He spread her hair over the coverlet, enjoying its soft blond shimmer and its length. He glanced toward the window and noticed that one was open. He got up without a word and went to close it tightly.

He came back to her, solemn and visibly aroused.

“Why did you do that?” she asked as he lay down on the bed beside her.

“You and I make love noisily,” he said gently. “I don’t want you to hold back your cries for fear of being overheard. I like it when you moan.”

She gripped his bare shoulders hungrily as his head bent to her nipples. They peaked at once. He smiled as he suckled them and heard a soft cry break from her lips.

His hands slid under her, around her. One hand slid smoothly down her soft belly and parted her legs so he could enjoy her femininity. She trembled and gasped when he probed and teased her body into eager submission. It arched, pleading for him not to stop.

His mouth slid up to her lips and parted them under its slow, warm pressure.

He took a very long time to arouse her, kindling fires in her body and banking them down. All the while, he smiled at her and kissed her tenderly, watching her helpless reactions and savoring them.

She was so hungry for him that tears stung her eyes. He saw that he couldn’t prolong their pleasure unless he did something about her eagerness first. He put his mouth softly over hers and his hand moved on her expertly. She shuddered rhythmically and then stiffened and cried out as he satisfied her.

“Yes,” he whispered, lifting his head so that he could see her face. “Is that better?”