Didn’t he understand? She wanted all of this. All of him. Even if it was only tonight. “And before you ask, I’m sure.”
He looked so conflicted, so anguished by her decision.
Margaret’s fingers grabbed his forearm. She sat up trying to pull him to her.
Welles took her hand and pressed a kiss to the pulse beating in her wrist before he nodded, making his decision. “Undress me.” He slid off the chaise and stood before her.
Margaret moved until she was kneeling before him. Her fingers trailed over his chest, plucking lightly at the fabric, uncertain how to proceed.
“Buttons first,” he growled in a dark tone laced with amusement.
Margaret had never undressed another human being in her life and the current task seemed a bit daunting. Deciding imitation was the sincerest form of flattery, she stretched up as far as she could and boldly pressed a kiss to his neck.
“A good start.”
She undid another button, pressing her mouth to his shoulder. When she slid her hands beneath the shirt and pressed against his chest, Welles’s eyes fluttered shut and a low sound of pleasure rumbled from deep within him.
Encouraged, Margaret continued, unbuttoning and kissing until his shirt hung open.
He leaned forward with a smile.
Grabbing the edge, her fingers shaking, she pulled it up and over his head.
Welles impeccably clothed in his uniform of indigo coat and buff riding breeches was a stunning creature, but nothing prepared Margaret for his appearance without clothing. His body was a thing of masculine beauty, as if he’d been carved and sculpted by the finest craftsman. Margaret’s fingertip traced the curvature of one pectoral muscle, firm and sleek, to the line of his ribs. Welles bore not an ounce of fat on his body; every bit of him was solid. Powerful. A dusting of dark hair spread out over his torso, tapering down into a thin line before disappearing into his waistband.
He took her hand, pressing an opened-mouthed kiss to her palm. “Now the rest just as you did the shirt.” The nipple of one breast tingled as he brushed the tip with his thumb, stoking the flames simmering between her legs back to life.
She took hold of his waistband, allowing her fingers to slide between the material and his skin, reaching down until she could touch the hardened length of him with her fingertips.
Welles sucked in his breath.
Margaret ran her finger along the velvety length smiling at the sounds coming from his chest. He smelled delicious, like the wind before a storm. She inhaled deeply before urging her fingers to finish the buttons, nuzzling her chin to his stomach.
“Tease,” he growled out.
Margaret had never felt so powerful. So seductive. When she laid her head on the ridges of his abdomen and took hold of both sides of his trousers, Welles trembled beneath her cheek. Tugging as hard as she could, they fell from his hips.
Welles moved back and stepped gracefully out of his trousers, kicking them aside. He stood before her, his hands tugging at the braid of her hair until the dark strands fell over her shoulders.
Margaret was intimately aware of a piece of his anatomy directly in front of her. Without thinking she reached out and wrapped her fingers around the hard length, wondering how she should proceed.
“Maggie,” he breathed, placing one hand over hers, “are you very sure?”
“Yes. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
He pushed her back against the cushions and nudged her legs apart before settling between them, claiming her mouth for another kiss. His lips held an urgency, a possessive heat that sent her heart racing. Where before he had asked for her surrender, now Welles demanded it, running his tongue along her bottom lip before moving his mouth to trail down the slope of her neck.
Margaret welcomed his possession. She rocked her hips up against him, her fingers clutching at the muscles of his back. When his hips shifted and the heavy thick heat of him pressed into her, Margaret’s legs instinctively wrapped around his waist.
“Slow, Maggie. I don’t want to hurt you.” His voice was strained.
She whimpered and lifted her knees forcing him deeper. Welles was being infinitely patient and careful in destroying her virtue, making her heart yearn for him even more, if that were possible. Margaret pushed her hips up again, begging him to take her.
In response, Welles pulled back. His hand cupped her cheek, eyes full of heat and desire mixed with worry over the physical pain of their joining. “I’m sorry.”