Love and the Single Heiress

“As will I.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “You mean you’ve never-?”

“No, I’m not saying I’ve never been with a woman, although it has been… a while. But I’ve never been with anyone I wanted this much. Or anyone whom I wanted to please more. Or anyone who pleased me so very much.”

Catherine swallowed, certain that her hold on his shoulders was the only thing keeping her from slithering to the floor in a quivering heap. “I hope I please you, Andrew. I want to, but-”

He silenced her by touching his fingers to her lips. “You will, Catherine. Don’t doubt it for even a second.”

His expression made it clear he believed it, but a spate of self-doubt and insecurity suddenly assailed her, and before she could stop herself, she blurted out the painful truth. “I’m afraid I cannot help it. My husband found me… less than enthralling. He never touched me after Spencer was born. In spite of the fact that I was married for a decade and bore a child, I fear I’m woefully inexperienced.” Her gaze searched his. “How can you be so sure I’ll please you?”

“As I’ve told you, there are just some things that we know, Catherine. You and I are going to make beautiful love together. As for your inexperience…”He took one step back, then spread his arms. “Practice all you wish. Consider me at your disposal.”

Catherine’s heart pounded at the husky-voiced invitation, so ripe with sensual possibilities.

“Don’t be shy,” he said softly. “Or embarrassed. It’s just us, Catherine. The only other person in this room besides you is a man who wants nothing more than to grant your every wish and to please you. Tell me how to do that. Tell me what you want.”

Words from A Ladies’ Guide popped into her mind. Should Today’s Modern Woman ever be fortunate enough to be asked “What do you want?” hopefully she will answer truthfully.

She licked her lips, then allowed her gaze to wander slowly down, then up his long, muscular length. When their eyes again met, she spoke the simple truth. “You make me want so many things, I’m not certain where to begin.”

“Why don’t I start by removing my jacket?”

She watched him shrug the dark blue material from his shoulders, and suddenly she knew exactly where to begin. Stepping forward, she grasped his cuff. “I want to do it.”

He stood immobile, watching her, and for the first time in her life, Catherine removed an article of clothing from a man. The simple act of slowly slipping the jacket down his arms intoxicated her. When she finished, she held the garment, still warm from his body, against her chest. Her eyes slid closed, and she bent her head to breathe him in. “You smell delicious,” she murmured on a sigh. “Sandalwood mixed with something else I can’t name. But it’s a clean, masculine scent that belongs to you alone.”

Andrew stood perfectly still, spellbound by her words and the sight of her cradling his jacket against her. God knows he’d never been more sincere than when he told her he wanted only to please her, but he didn’t have a bloody prayer of surviving the rest of the night if she brought him to his knees just by holding his damn jacket.

Her curious gaze traveled again down his body, and he had to clench his hands to keep from reaching for her. “You worry about your ability to please me,” he said in a tight voice, “yet you can seduce me with a single look.”

Her gaze jumped back up to meet his, and he clearly read the flare of confidence that lit her eyes. After carefully setting his jacket on the floor beside her, she brushed her fingertips over his loosely knotted cravat. “I want to undress you,” she whispered.

He swallowed and attempted a half smile, but wasn’t at all certain he succeeded. “I’m all yours.”

“I’m not certain how all these garments work.”

Giving in to the overwhelming need to touch her, he traced his fingertip over her cheekbone. “Not to worry. I’ll help you.”

She applied herself to his cravat, and he stood in an agony of want, warring between his body’s need simply to shove aside their clothing and make fierce love to her now, and watching, feeling the stunning miracle of her removing his clothes. The blooming confidence and wonder in her eyes as she dispensed with his cravat, then slowly unfastened his shirt. When she reached his waist, he pulled his shirt free of the confines of his breeches, then held his breath.

She slowly separated the linen, then placed her hands on his chest. Heat arrowed through him, and he pulled in a quick breath. An expression of utterly feminine delight crossed her features, and she slowly dragged her hands downward. He wanted to watch her, but his eyes slid closed of their own volition, and a growl of pure pleasure escaped him as he memorized the intense sensation of her touching him.

“Do you like that?” she whispered, her fingertips grazing his nipples.

“God, yes.”

Her hands slipped down over his abdomen, and his muscles contracted. “You like that as well?”

“Yes.”The word was a raw rasp. He forced his eyes open to watch her, her hands growing bolder with each pass over his skin. Everywhere she touched felt as if she’d scorched him. Need roared through him, and his erection jerked inside his tight breeches. After gliding her hands back up his chest, she pushed his shirt off his shoulders and down his arms. He pulled his hands free and dropped the garment to the floor.

She ran her hands over his bare shoulders, then down his back, and he gritted his teeth against the pleasure. “You’re very strong,” she said, her warm breath caressing his chest.

A shudder shook him. He felt anything but strong. His insides were shaking, and his knees were… gone.

She slid her arms around his waist, then stepped forward to rest her head against his chest. “Your heart is beating almost as fast as mine, Andrew.”

Before he could reply, she looked up at him with solemn eyes. “I want you to undress me.”

Since he wanted that more than he wanted to draw his next breath, he didn’t hesitate. “Turn around.”

Standing behind her, he combed his fingers through her long, lustrous chestnut locks, brushing the strands over her shoulder to expose her pale nape. Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to that soft, fragrant bit of skin that had haunted a thousand dreams and countless waking moments. A delicate shiver trembled through her, and she tilted her head to the side, an invitation he didn’t even attempt to resist.

After brushing a lingering kiss to her sweet nape, he stepped back and set to work on freeing the buttons down her back. As each ivory round was freed from its loop, he was rewarded with a tantalizing peek at the thin chemise beneath. When he finally finished, he moved to stand in front of her. Her color was high, and desire shimmered from her golden brown eyes. Reaching out, he slowly pushed the garment over her shoulders. It slipped down her arms, then over her hips to land with a soft shush at her feet.

His avid gaze raked over her, so achingly beautiful, clad in a chemise so sheer he could see her dusky nipples through the material. Hooking his fingers under the cream-colored straps, he inched the garment down, tracking its progress as each delectable inch of her skin was revealed. When he released the straps, the chemise pooled at her feet on top of her gown.

For several seconds he stood immobile and simply drank in the sight of her, standing gracefully in the center of her discarded clothing like a single rose in full bloom rising from a priceless vase. His gaze lingered over generous, plump breasts topped with coral-hued nipples that tightened under his regard. The curve of her waist gave way to rounded hips and shapely thighs, hugging the triangle of chestnut curls nestled between her legs. Now clad in only her stockings and shoes, she robbed him of the control he’d fought so hard to keep in check. His every muscle tensed with needs that he could deny no longer. She looked ripe, luscious, and utterly delectable, and God help him, he was starving.

He extended his hand and helped her step from the yards of material surrounding her. The instant she was free, he bent his knees, scooped her into his arms, and carried her to the velvet coverlet, made softer by the bed of fresh hay he’d spread beneath it. He gently laid her down, cushioning her head on the blue pillow. After slipping off her shoes and stockings and setting them aside, he rose to remove his low, soft leather boots and breeches.

Catherine rolled onto her side, propped her head on her palm, and watched the proceedings with rapt attention. When he freed his erection from the strangulating confines of his snug breeches, he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Oh, my,” she breathed, rising to her knees, her avid gaze arousing him further.

He tossed his clothing haphazardly onto the pile, then knelt on the quilt in front of her. Framing her face between his hands, he lowered his head and brushed his lips over hers. “Catherine…”