Bride Enchanted by Edith Layton

of the statues of ancient Greek gods that she’d seen in the new museum in London. “A great many lovers,” she murmured absently, watching as he removed his boots, and then stood to remove his breeches.
    His hands halted on the buttons on the fall of his breeches. “Would it matter?”
    â€œI’d like to know. But if it isn’t done, never mind,” she said, suddenly horribly embarrassed by her lack of knowledge of what to expect, as well as what was wrong or right to ask him.
    â€œAnything we do is done,” he said. “Yes. A great many. But I have no diseases, if that’s worrying you.”
    She raised a hand to brush his words away. “No. I know you too well to expect that. You’re too honorable to surprise me with that.”
    He looked, in that instant, pained.
    â€œI shouldn’t be talking about this at all, I know, I know,” she said in an agony of discomfit, scooping the coverlet up to cover her, and lowering her head to her bent knees.
    There was silence and then she felt the mattress tick move as he sat on the bed beside her. “You may ask me anything,” he said, his hand brushing back her curls from her forehead. “I can only tell you the truth.”
    â€œThen, I know I asked once before, I must know, did you…ever love anyone like this before?” she asked in a rush.
    â€œLove anyone like this before? No,” he said, against her ear. “To my sorrow and to my woe, no. And in all truth this is so. I vow it.”
    She raised her heated face, and she was beaming. “What a fool I am,” she said, and came into his arms.
    â€œNever,” he said, as he gently lay her down against a pillow. “Never,” he said as he joined her there.
    He kissed her softly, at first, and then, because he felt her body straining to get closer to his, he deepened his kisses, and felt the warmth of her mouth against his. He touched her tongue with his own, and found her arching toward him, offering much more than her mouth. Her nipples were hard and crested against his chest; her hips arched into him, she laid one hand on his back, holding him closer to herself, the other at the nape of his neck. And all the while she murmured his name into his ear. When he felt his sex rising andstraining toward her, he kept it trapped between them so he wouldn’t end this luxurious searching too soon. She was wonderfully responsive to him, but then, he’d known it could be no other way with her. He hadn’t guessed the absolute sweetness of her complete surrender to him, though, and he was charmed.
    He was patient with her, Eve knew it. But she was ecstatically impatient with him. She knew the plain fact of what was to come, she was no fool. But she hadn’t known how she’d react to it. She feared the pain she’d heard about. That had been before she knew the bliss. Now she did, and was eager to get on with it. He made her feel that ever more so. His lips on the peaks of her breasts, first one, then the other, was thrilling; his touch was so exquisite it set her aching, but with a sweet pain she loved. There was no holding back, none of the shyness she’d feared, nothing but such complete willingness that it even shocked her.
    And then, too short a time, and far too long a time for her, she felt him raise himself, part her, touch her and set her trembling with weakness because of the strength of her desire. At last he brought himself to her, and she felt a slight pang, the first reminder that she’d never done this before. It brought her back to herself, she withdrewfrom him, if only in her mind, and her body began to tense for the first time, not with expectation of ecstasy, but fear of it.
    He murmured something. She hardly heard it. He passed his hand over her hair, her face, as he kissed her, and then murmured more. Love words, she thought dazedly, they comforted her even as they aroused her. There was then no pain,