He pulled away with effort, knelt beside her, and cupped his hands over her knees. Their eyes met, and his look told her this would be slow. First, he intended to see her, and he expected her to submit to his wicked curiosity.

She relaxed her legs, but didn’t part them. In an age of casual sex, her reticence might be old-fashioned, but she wanted this to be a gift to him. A gift that needed to be opened by the recipient.

Maybe he understood because his hands grew firmer around her knees. With gentle pressure he began to ease them apart.

She felt like a very young, very virginal bride. If she was no longer quite so young, it didn’t matter, and if she was still almost virgin, that hadn’t been her intention.

His hands slid onto her thighs, pushing them upward, opening them farther, making her increasingly vulnerable. A pulse throbbed at the base of his throat. He was fully aroused and very determined.

A ribbon of warm breeze curled from beneath the curtain and blew across that hot, moist place she was revealing to him. He gazed down at everything, and the look in his eyes grew fierce and territorial.

He shifted his position and brushed the light brown curls with his thumb. She gave a hiss of pleasure as he parted her in the most intimate way.

His finger touched her, and she sucked in her breath. He was so gentle for such a strong man. As he explored her, she felt as if he were marking his territory. Then he dipped his head and marked it with his mouth.

His dark, crisp hair brushed her inner thighs. She felt the tug of his lips, the nip of his teeth. With her eyes open, she stared at the ceiling, fighting the ecstasy because she couldn’t bear for it to end so quickly. But all the years of self-control hadn’t made her strong enough to resist this.

“Don’t,” she moaned. “Not until . . . I don’t want . . . Not until you’re inside me.”

He gazed up at her, his eyes dark with passion, his skin sleek with sweat. And then his powerful body settled over her smaller one. She felt sheltered, protected, and exquisitely threatened. Once she let this man inside her body, nothing would ever be the same again.

His entry was slow and determined, and although her body was slick with passion, she didn’t accept him easily. His kissed her . . . soothed her . . . pressed deeper . . . deeper still . . .

She clutched his shoulders against the stinging stretch, pressed her cheek so hard against his jaw that his beard abraded her skin. When he was finally buried, she gave a sob.

He kissed the corners of her eyes, her mouth, caressed her breasts. Only then did he move in a slow, hard thrust . . .

She sobbed and arched.