The heat and wetness of her enticed him. His body urged him to continue, and if this was the past, he would have obliged himself. He’d taken particular delight in the cruel deflowering of many a young girl then. But he didn’t want to see that pain in her eyes, the fear that she’d begun something she had no power to stop and no strength to finish. He had to work to unclench his jaw as he stroked the side of her face with his fingertips. “Are you sure?”

She hesitated a second, then wet her lips and nodded with a huge breath. Before she could think or wonder when the pain would come, he thrust into her. The barrier released with an unpleasant gush of wetness, and it was done. Beneath him, she stiffened. He expected her to scream, and she looked for a moment as though she’d expected to, as well. The sound never came.

“That wasn’t so bad,” she whispered with a small laugh. She lifted her hips against his, gasping when he slipped in deeper. “This isn’t so bad.”

They laughed together and he kissed her, his chest tight with happiness. When she moved beneath him again, the happiness was overshadowed by the urgent demands of his body. It didn’t take Mouse long to overcome her inexperience. She rocked against him, panted and clutched at his shoulders, and he closed his eyes to avoid the erotic sight and maintain some self-control.

He couldn’t escape her moans of pleasure, though, or the hot, wet grip of her surrounding him. He sought out her swollen bud and rubbed her with the pad of his thumb until her loud breaths and frantic, senseless pleas for release signaled the approaching culmination of her pleasure. He braced himself against the mattress and abandoned all thought of gentleness or care, driving into her so hard her breath exploded from her with every pump of his hips.

She did scream then, her nails biting into his arms where she gripped him. He let himself go, shuddering over her and inside of her. When he regained his senses, he withdrew, wincing at the friction of her grasping muscles against his painfully sensitized skin.

They lay in silence for a long time, their legs hanging off the side of the bed. Cyrus studied her with detached interest. The moonlight from the small window above them dusted her skin with silver as he watched it grow rough with gooseflesh. How she could be chilled when his heart hammered as though he’d run a marathon, and sweat still poured from him, was a mystery.