She didn’t jolt when his teeth grazed there, but stiffened when he brushed his hand over her breast.

No one had ever touched her so intimately. The flash of heat his hands brought her was a shock, as was the knowledge only a thin layer of material was between his hand and her flesh.

Then even that was gone, and her nightrobes pooled around her feet. Her hand came up instinctively to cover herself, but he only took it, nipped his teeth lightly at her wrist while his eyes watched hers.

“Are you afraid?”

“A little.”

“I won’t bite you.”

“No, no, not of that.” She turned the hand he held so her palm cupped his cheek. “There’s so much happening inside of me. So much new. No one’s ever touched me like this.” Gathering her courage, she took his other hand, brought it to her breast. “Show me more.”

He brushed his thumb over her nipple, watched the shock of pleasure flicker over her face. “Turn that busy mind off, Moira.”

It was already as if mists clouded it. How could she think when her body was swimming in sensation?

He lifted her off her feet so that her face was suddenly on level with his. Then his mouth took hers into the heat again.

The bed was beneath her? Had he crossed the room? How had... but her mind misted over again as his hands, his mouth, slid like flaming velvet over her body.

She was a feast, and he’d fasted far too long. But still he sampled slowly, lingering over tastes and textures. And with each shiver, each sigh or gasp, she fed his own arousal.

When her curious hands came too close to breaking his control, he caught them in his own, trapping them as he slowly, mercilessly ravished her br**sts.

She was building beneath him; he could feel the power filling her, harder, fuller. And when he pushed her to peak, she bowed up, riding it with a strangled cry.

She melted down, her hands going limp under his.

“Oh.” The word was a long expulsion of breath. “Oh, I see.”

“You think you do.” His tongue traced over the thick beat of the pulse in her throat. As she sighed, he glided his hand between her legs, and sliding into the wet heat, showed her more.

Everything went bright. It blinded her, the brilliance of it all but seared her eyes, her skin, her heart. She was nothing but feelings now, a mass of pleasures beyond any possibility. She was the arrow from the bow, and he’d shot her high, on an endless flight.

His hands simply ruled her until she was a hostage to this never-ending need. Half-mad she struggled with his shirt.

“I need—I want—”

“I know.” He pulled off his shirt so she could touch and taste him in turn. And let himself glide on the pleasure of her eager explorations. Her breath against his skin, warm and quick, her fingers tracing, then digging. When her hands gripped his hips, he let her help him strip the rest of his clothes away.

And wasn’t sure whether to be amused or flattered when her eyes went huge.

“I... I didn’t realize. I’ve seen a c**k before, but—”

Now he laughed. “Oh, have you now?”

“Of course. Men bathe in the river, and well, and being curious... ”

“You’ve spied on them. A man’s pride isn’t at its, ah, fullest after a bath in a cold river. I won’t hurt you.”

He’d have to, wouldn’t he? she thought. She’d read of such things, and certainly she’d heard the women speak of it. But she wasn’t afraid of the pain. She feared nothing now.

So she laid back again, braced for him. But he only began to touch her again, rouse her again, undo her again as if she were a knot of string.

He wanted her drenched, drowning, beyond thought and nerves. That tight and slender body she’d stiffened in anticipation went loose again. Warm and soft again, with that erotic flush of blood spreading under the skin.

“Look at me. Moira mo chroi. Look at me. Look into me.”

This he could do, with will and control. He could ease that moment, that flash of pain and give her only the pleasure. When those heavy gray eyes blurred, he pierced her. He filled her.

Her lips trembled, and the moan they formed was low and deep. He kept her trapped in his eyes as he began to move, long, slow thrusts that had the thrill of it rippling over her face, over her body.

Even when he released her from the thrall, when she began to move with him, her eyes stayed locked on his. Her heart was raging, a wild drum against his chest, so vital it seemed—for a moment—as if it beat inside him.

She came with a cry of wonder and abandonment. At last, at last, he let his own need take him with her.

S he curled up against him, a cat who’d lapped up every drop of cream. He would, he was sure, berate himself later for what he’d done. But for now he was content to wallow a bit.

“I didn’t know it could be like that,” she murmured. “So enormous.”

“Being so well-endowed, I’ve likely ruined you for anyone else.”

“I didn’t mean the size of your pride, as you called it.” Laughing, she looked up at him, and saw from his lazy smile he’d understood her meaning perfectly. “I’ve read of the act, of course. Medical books, storybooks. But the personal experience of it is much more satisfying.”

“I’m happy to have assisted you in your research.”

She rolled over so she could splay herself on him. “I’ll need to do considerably more research, I’m thinking, before I know all there is to know. I’m greedy for knowledge.”

“Damn you, Moira.” he said it with a sigh as he played with her hair. “You’re perfect.”

“Am I?” Her already glowing cheeks went pinker with pleasure. “I won’t argue because I feel so perfect right now. Thirsty though. Is there any water about?”

He nudged her aside, then rose to fetch the jug. She sat up as he poured, and her hair spilled over her shoulders and br**sts. He thought if he had a heartbeat, the sight of her like this might stop it.

He handed her the cup, then sat across from her on the bed. “This is madness. You know it.”

“The world’s gone mad,” she replied. “Why shouldn’t we have a piece of it? I’m not being foolish, or careless,” she said quickly, laying a hand over his. “I have to do so many things, Cian, so many things where there’s no choice for me. This was my choice. My own.”