He was leaning over her, but not content with that, she pulled him down on top of her, wanting to feel his weight—and maybe something else. Even through his leather chausses she could feel the thick column of his manhood hard against her. Remembering how he’d feel inside her made her restless . . . anxious . . . impatient. It made her want to press herself against him and move.

She didn’t realize she was already doing so until he pulled back and broke the kiss with a sharp, frustrated curse.

“What’s wrong?” she asked in between gasps of air.

“Nothing, if you want this over in a few seconds. Otherwise, we’re going to need to slow down.” He gave her a wry smile. “You don’t do much for increasing a man’s stamina.” His smile turned wicked. “I guess it’s something we’ll have to work on.”

Joan wasn’t completely sure she understood, but she had the gist. “I’ve never minded a little hard work.”

He laughed. “Ah, love, you have no idea.”

She looked down at the impressive bulge between them and said softly, “I think I do.”

His eyes heated at the naughty innuendo. “Touch me again, sweetheart.”

She did as he asked, reaching out to put her hand around the thick column straining against the leather.

His head fell back and his eyes closed with a groan at contact. But it wasn’t enough for either of them. Their eyes met, and she knew what he wanted.

She started to work the straps of his chausses. He had to help her remove them, but the linen braies underneath were much easier. Then there was nothing left between them.

God, he was . . . impressive. Thick and long, his manhood strained strong and hard against his stomach. It looked so red, though—and throbbing. “Does it hurt?” she asked, tentatively reaching out to trace her fingertip along the bulging vein that ran from root to tip.

He groaned again at her touch, seeming momentarily incapable of responding. His entire body seemed to be drawn up as tight as a bow. “Not in the way you think,” he finally managed. “It’s a good kind of hurt right now.”

She nodded and then looked up at him. His eyes seemed to be burning with a low simmering heat. “Show me what to do,” she said, her finger now circling the blunt tip of him. “I want to bring you pleasure.”

“Everything you do brings me pleasure,” he said in a—ironically—pained voice.

But he showed her. He took her hand and wrapped it around him, showing her how to stroke him.