He glances down at me. “That was a bit of a lecture, was it not?”

“Only to a receptive audience.” I prop onto his chest to look down at him. “It is a quandary, and I have not known how to resolve it. My efforts have been met with nothing but frustration.”

“Then it is Fate who has brought us together, as I have already decided. You may discuss anything with me, crécerelle. You may ask any questions, and I will answer as best I can, on the understanding that I am only a student slightly farther along in his studies. I may talk as if I am a man of vast experience, but as much as I enjoy intimacy, I . . .”

He trails off and rubs his mouth. “At the risk of saying more than I should, I consider intimacy an intimate act, as the name implies. I was an eager student in my youth, taking lessons from those with whom I did not intend to form any attachment, much the same as I believe you did, but once I had mastered the basics . . .” He shrugs. “As I grew older, my needs changed.”

“You speak as if you are five-and-fifty.”

He chuckles. “Non. I speak as a relatively young man who was introduced to such matters at a definitively young age.”

“Lucky lad.”

He lets out a laugh. “True enough. Most lads are luckier in such matters than lasses, having far vaster opportunities. But now you have an opportunity of your own, with a man possessing a decent amount of experience and ample quantities of enthusiasm, which is at least as important.”

“Enthusiasm is very important. As is reciprocity, as you have said. Pleasure for both partners. I believe that is what we are lacking here tonight.”

He pushes my hair behind my ear as he smiles. “You do not need to worry about that tonight, crécerelle.”

“You do not want me to reciprocate?”

“I do not want you to feel that my actions bore the expectation of reciprocity. I wanted to give.”

“Understood. But if I wish to give in return? To further my own education?”

He tilts his head, gaze boring into mine as if to be sure I mean it. Then he says, “All right. What would you like to do?”

“I believe the question is, What you would like me to do?”

“Non, crécerelle. I did what I wished to do, and now you should do the same.” He folds his hands behind his head. “I am at your disposal.”

I hesitate, uncertain. He waits without a word, letting me take my time, which I appreciate because I am at a loss here. The lovers I have had either did not want my active participation or conveyed their wishes very clearly. The freedom to explore on my own is wondrous, but also new and somewhat daunting.

I sit up, straddling his hips and look down at him. He is truly beautiful, and fresh desire flares, smoldering embers leaping to life.