She laughed. “I do. Because they have history. Because they’re part of you. Whether you wanted to be or not.”
Something in his face went hard, his mouth setting into a grim line. “I think that’s quite enough talking.”
And then she found herself being caught up in his strong embrace, pulled forward, his mouth hard and hot on hers as he devastated her with a savage kiss.
When he moved away from her she was breathing hard, and then he took a step back, unbuttoning his shirt the rest of the way.
His body was...well, it was as classically masculine as their surroundings. But much, much more compelling. All strong lines and incredible muscle, dark hair covering that taut, bronzed skin.
She had never seen a man who looked quite like him before.
“Yes?” he asked.
“I’m just...staring,” she said.
“Why are you staring?”
“Because you’re...you’re beautiful,” she said before she could stop herself.
It was an incredibly gauche thing to say, but at the moment she felt that she was incredibly gauche and there was no way around it. She was inexperienced. Nonexperienced.
Had never even kissed a man until tonight, and she was about to do everything with him. Let him see her, let him touch her. See him, touch him. It was intoxicating, exhilarating and terrifying.
She wanted it. And she wanted to remember what he had told her earlier. Wanted to embrace who she was. Not who she was pretending to be. Not who she had dressed up as, either to get hired at the rancho or to get ready for the ball tonight.
And that meant committing to not being embarrassed when she said things like that. That he was beautiful. She was going to enjoy this. All of this. Claim it for herself. Because she supposed, that was the flipside to all that experience. He had had this experience before. It was not foreign to him. It wasn’t new. Which meant that it was so much more for her than for him. She wanted to embrace that. Relish it.
“You’re beautiful,” she said again. “Truly.”
Then, bolstered by that thought, she took a step forward, and she pressed her palm flat against his chest. He was so warm. Hot. She could feel his heartbeat raging against her touch. And that bolstered her, too. The fact that he wasn’t unmoved by this. The fact that she did tempt him. Did test him. The fact that she created the same response in him as he created in her.
And no matter that her mother had always told her men were led around by their members. She chose to believe that it mattered still.
Her mother had taught her very few things, but that was one of the things she remembered. And along with that, she remembered her saying that men wanted sex and women wanted attention. And so she had imagined that if she ever came to this moment she would be in a situation of unequal desires. That she would crave attention, and he would simply crave touch.
But she knew, standing there looking at him, looking at the fire in his eyes, listening to the desires of her own body, that their desires were one. That they were united in their need tonight.
She didn’t simply want attention. She wanted him.
Needed him.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she said softly.
“I do,” he said. “You don’t have to know the steps. You simply have to follow my lead. And I will not let you fall.”
Her heart swelled, those words, that promise, echoing through her.
Then he reached around behind her and grabbed hold of her zipper tab, drawing it down the center of her back. The bodice fell loose, the dress falling around her hips. Then he grabbed her hand and pulled her forward, and she stepped away from the glittering fabric, standing before him wearing nothing but glimmering, lacy underwear that she knew did very little to cover her body. She was not wearing a bra, because the dress had possessed built-in support, and so her breasts were bare to him, her nipples tight beneath his inspection.
She knew that he could see her dark curls at the apex of her thighs through that flimsy, light-colored lace. She knew that she should be embarrassed, but she wasn’t. Because he wanted her. He wanted this. And just like with the dancing he had promised to lead. Promised to help make sure her steps didn’t falter. She trusted him. Trusted him to do what he said, even if she had no reason to. But he was Matías. He was everything. He was the fulfillment of fantasies she hadn’t even known she possessed. He was every secret desire she had always been afraid to put words to. He was the man that made her feel happiest to be a woman.
And for however long she could have him, she would. Oh, she would.
“Beautiful,” he said, his dark eyes sharp, intense, as they looked at her mostly naked form.
She didn’t wish for her long hair then. She didn’t even wish for the gown. She had never felt more wholly female, perfectly feminine, than she did in that moment.
He reached out, and he dragged one of those callous thumbs over her tightened nipple. She gasped, drawing away from him because it was so shocking, so sensational.
“Teach me,” he said, his voice rough. “Teach me what you like. Tell me when something feels good to you. Though I might embarrass myself.”
“How?”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “Such an innocent.” He reached out, wrapping his fingers around her wrist, and drawing her hand toward the front of his pants. She gasped when she felt him there, hard, masculine and much larger than she had expected him to be.
“When a man wants a woman very, very much it becomes difficult for him to control himself. I would like to stay hard for you. I need to last for you. So that you can have as many orgasms as you want. So that I can pleasure you, over and over again before I finally take my own pleasure. And if I do not maintain my control, that may be difficult.”
“Because you can only...you can only...once?” Her lack of experience was slightly mortifying, but they were naked together so she supposed being coy now was just silly.
“I can only come once in a certain amount of time. You, on the other hand, will not be similarly limited.”
“That’s...very interesting.”
He leaned in, the tendons in his neck standing out, tension clear in every line of his body. “How is it you don’t know about this? Haven’t you talked to friends? Overheard men talking at the rancho?”
“I was the boss’s daughter. They were very careful around me. And as for friends... I have horses. Which is informative enough regarding procreation but not regarding um...sexual...pleasures.”
“But you must be somewhat familiar with pleasure,” he insisted. “Haven’t you explored your body on your own?”
She shook her head. “And I haven’t... I don’t think I’ve experienced the pleasure you’re talking about before,” she said, feeling her face growing hot.
“You don’t think you’ve had an orgasm?”
“No.”
“Then you haven’t,” he said firmly. “If you had, you would have known.”
And then on a growl, he lifted her up off her feet and pressed her against his body, kissing her, hard and deep, one hand pressed firmly against the center of her shoulder blades, the other cupping the back of her head.
The hair on his chest was rough, and it abraded her nipples, but it was not an unpleasant sensation.
It was...well, it was perfect. It was everything that she loved about their contrast. He was so hot, so hard, rough and intense. He matched her softness. Her smoothness. In the tentative feeling inside her.
And