She unlocked the door. Vincent proved that he’d been waiting for the sound of it when it opened only seconds later. They stared at each other. Like liquid gold, his eyes were so hot they seared, melting away any last trace of indecision she’d been feeling.

He shrugged out of his robe, left it on the floor there. She was still fully dressed, now uncomfortably so. Yet she was so mesmerized by his golden eyes that she didn’t even think to look at him, at all of him, nor was the option there for long, when his hand slipped behind her neck and drew her close to his body.

Their lips met and melded. It was a ravenous kiss, echoing hunger long denied in them both. Her knees buckled, they became so weak, but there was no danger of falling, she was held so tightly to him.

She was so new to this sort of sensual kissing—this was only her second experience of it—yet he was so skillful at it himself, guiding her, prompting when needed, that her inexperience wasn’t given any opportunity to interfere. Not that any hesitancy or inadequacies stood a chance of being noticed amidst the pleasure of tasting each other so fully, they became lost in that kiss.

A groan finally broke it—his. She barely noticed, she was so enthralled by what she was feeling. And swiftly she was carried to his bed. Not hers. She didn’t notice that yet either. But it wasn’t long before she was noticing something quite extraordinary . . .

Had she really thought all pleasure would derive merely from being held and kissed by him, just because it was so nice by itself? But then how could she have known otherwise? His “pleasure unimagined” had been unassociated with anything specific in her mind, because she had no specifics to draw from other than loose generalities. But it became very associated with his hand on her breast.

Spontaneous reactions went off in numerous parts of her body from that simple placement of his palm. Gooseflesh, butterflies, wet heat, and that was only the beginning. He continued to kiss her and catch each little gasp of pleasure that escaped her, and many did as he began the next lesson in sensual touching.

Even the removal of her clothes was an erotic experience, he did it so slowly, with such thorough caressing of each limb and curve exposed. Amazing that if she touched the underside of her knee, she’d feel nothing, yet his fingers there made her shiver. That it was Vincent touching her made all the difference, and such a difference, such a wealth of new sensations to marvel at.