The Spinster's Secret (13 page)

“Edward, I like how you look.”

That strong, square face, that strong, broad body. He was Goliath, looming in her bedchamber. The sheer size of him, the savage scars, should have been intimidating—but she knew that there were laughter lines hiding beneath the sword slashes on his face, knew how gentle his big, battered hands were, knew how innately kind he was.

“You do?” His hand lowered from his ear.

Mattie nodded.

She hadn’t realized that he’d tensed until she saw his shoulders relax.

He began to untie the knot and hesitated. “Uh…Mattie, when a man is, uh…aroused, his body changes. His, uh…his organ becomes quite large.”

“I know.” Reading
Fanny Hill
had enlightened her about that.

Still Edward hesitated. “Don’t be alarmed.”

“I won’t.”

Edward didn’t look entirely convinced, but he shrugged out of the dressing gown, letting it drop to the floor.

Mattie’s eyes widened in astonishment. The male body was less similar to the female than she’d realized. It wasn’t just his organ, as he’d called it, it was the crisp curls of hair on his chest, the broad ribcage, the slabs of muscle on his abdomen and thighs, the sheer strength of his body.

After one startled glance at that disconcertingly large organ, she skirted around it, examining the rest of his body.

His forearms were almost as badly scarred as his hands and face, a dozen or so cuts scoring his skin. A much broader scar slashed jaggedly down the left side of his ribcage.

Edward caught the direction of her gaze.

“Bayonet,” he said, running his fingers down the ridge of scar tissue. “Almost skewered me.”

“Does it hurt?”

He lifted his shoulders in a shrug and then said, “No.”

She believed the shrug, not the word. It did still hurt him sometimes.

“Which leg was broken?”

He pointed—and again she avoided looking at his organ. There were no obvious scars on his left leg, but there was one at his right hip.

She pointed. “What’s that?”

Edward glanced at it. “Shell fragment. But that wasn’t Waterloo.”

“What was?”

“Waterloo? Everything else you can see. And some broken bones.” He touched his chest. “Cracked a few ribs when the cavalry rode over me.”

Mattie stared at him. The heat and excitement had subsided to the pit of her belly. Uppermost was a choking tightness in her throat and a stinging in her eyes. She looked down at her lap, blinking back tears.

“Don’t be afraid,” Edward said hastily. “I know it must seem a little…uh, daunting, but, uh…there are men who’re bigger than me, truly.”

His words drew her attention to his groin.

“I’m not afraid . . .” Mattie started to speak, but the her words lodged in her throat.

She stared at his organ. It jutted aggressively from his body.
Perhaps I am a little afraid
.

Edward stepped close, until she could almost feel the heat of his body. “It’s nothing to be scared of.”

Mattie released a shaky breath. She couldn’t stop staring at his organ. It looked so strange and primitive, so alarmingly large. Fierce, almost brutal.

It will never fit inside me.

Edward reached out and took hold of one of her hands. He placed her palm beneath his organ.

They both jerked, as if her touch had burned. The breath caught sharply in Mattie’s throat. She lifted her head and stared up at him.

Time seemed to stop. Edward’s dark, hot eyes held her gaze. The heavy heat of his organ pressed against her palm.

“I think you should take your nightgown off now,” Edward said, his voice a hoarse whisper.

Mattie couldn’t find the breath to speak, could only nod.

Edward released her hand. He stepped back.

Mattie rose from the bed. She pulled the nightgown over her head before cowardice could ambush her. Embarrassment scorched her cheeks. She dropped the nightgown and held herself rigid, willing herself not to shrink from his gaze.

Edward made a strangled noise in his throat.

“Venus,” he said, while his eyes devoured her, tracing a path from her breasts to her waist, to her hips, to the dark curls of hair at the junction of her thighs.

Her skin seemed to tighten and tingle, to flush, where his gaze lingered. Finally he met her eyes again. He wanted her. She saw it clearly on his face.

“Mattie…you’re more beautiful than I imagined.”

Her cheeks burned even more hotly. She looked down at the floor.

Edward took her hands, holding them clasped in his. “You still want this?”

Mattie nodded. She stared down at his toes. Strong toes, with tiny, crisp curls of hair on them.

She wanted to touch them, to learn what his skin felt like.

Edward released her hands. He stepped even closer. His hands slid around her hips, cupped her buttocks, pressed her to him.

Mattie’s mouth opened in a gasp. She felt him. All of him. The burning skin. The tickling hair. The hard, scorching heat of his organ.

Every muscle in her body clenched for an instant—in shock, in pleasure, in anticipation. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, could only stand, trembling, almost drowning in the sensations.

Edward dipped his head and pressed a kiss to her temple.

Mattie dragged a shaky breath into her lungs, intensely aware of the pressure of his organ against her belly.
I want more
.

“Kiss me,” Edward murmured against her brow.

She tilted her face up to him.

They kissed until Mattie was dizzy with heat. When Edward finally lifted his head, the sound of their breathing was loud in the bedchamber. He held her tightly against him, as if trying to imprint her upon his skin.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

Mattie nodded, past speech.

They lay down on the counterpane, side by side. Mattie found a wanton boldness that she didn’t know she possessed and ran her hands over his chest, tracing the bayonet scar, circling his nipples with her fingertips. His scent filled her nostrils, clean and unmistakably male. Edward caught her hands before she found the courage to touch his organ again.

“My turn.” He pressed her onto her back.

He was thorough in his exploration, and he didn’t just use his hands. He explored her breasts with his mouth, tasting her with his tongue, nipping gently.

Mattie caught herself moaning and sank her teeth into her lower lip to subdue the sound. She hadn’t realized that her skin was so exquisitely sensitive, hadn’t realized that such burning pleasure was possible.

Edward’s mouth moved lower. He kissed her belly while his hands roamed across her hips, skimmed down her thighs, parted her legs.

Dimly, Mattie was aware that she should be stopping him—this was it, the broaching of her virtue—but all she wanted was for him to continue. If Edward stopped, she’d die of the fierce, wild, pulsing
want
that consumed her.

Edward’s mouth returned to her breasts, but his hand stayed between her legs, cupping her mound, moving in a rhythmic, rocking motion that caused her to arch up against him. Another moan escaped her.

Mattie felt a puff of hot breath against her nipple as Edward laughed. “Like it?”

She couldn’t answer, could only moan again and arch against his hand. A tiny corner of her brain told her that she should be embarrassed, but the rest of her was lost in pleasure beyond anything she’d ever known.

The movement of his hand continued until the pleasure inside her rose to a peak that was almost painful. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut—and then the pleasure broke, cascading through her body until she felt it in the tips of her toes.

Mattie slowly opened her eyes. She lay on the counterpane, dazed, struggling to catch her breath. The tips of her toes still tingled.

Edward uttered a satisfied murmur. His hand delved intimately between her legs. Suddenly, two of his fingers were inside her.

Mattie stiffened.

“Does that hurt?” Edward asked.

It took her several seconds to find her voice. “No.”

His fingers slid from her. Edward nudged her legs further apart with his knee and moved until he was braced over her.

“Mattie…” His voice was rough with need. “I can’t wait any longer. I’m sorry.”

She reached up to trace the curving line of a scar on his face, from brow to cheek to jawbone. His skin was hot to touch, flushed, and his eyes were so dark they looked black in the candlelight.

Mattie slid her hand behind his neck and drew his head down and kissed him.

Edward kissed her back, more urgently than he had before. She felt the fierceness of his need, the trembling of his body, the tension.

He dragged his mouth from hers. “It might hurt.”

“I don’t mind.” She wanted more of him, wanted all of him, wanted him inside her—and she didn’t care if it hurt.

She felt his fingers between her legs again, opening her, and then his organ nudged inside her.

I’m no longer a virgin.
Mattie held her breath, trying to notice every sensation, to capture the moment in her memory. There was pain—a sharp, tearing little pain—but she was less aware of that than of the sense of invasion, of something large inside her that shouldn’t be there. She felt a surge of panic and stiffened.

Edward froze.

“Does it hurt too much?” His voice was tight, breathless.

It feels like I’m bursting.

But even as she thought it, her body began to adjust to the invader, relaxing a fraction.

“No,” Mattie whispered. “It’s just…strange.”

He held motionless for a moment longer, resting his forehead against her shoulder, as if trying to gather his control, and then pushed further into her until he filled her.

“Still all right?”

Mattie nodded. “Yes.”

Edward released his breath, a sound that was part sigh, part groan. She heard pleasure in it.

He stayed absolutely still for several seconds. She was aware of the burning heat of his skin, the racing of his heart, the trembling tension in his body. Then he lifted his head.

He stared into her eyes. “I won’t be able to last long.”

She shook her head mutely, lifting her hand to touch his face again.

Edward slid one arm around her hips, lifting her, pressing her against him.

“Venus,” he whispered against her mouth, and then he began a rocking, rhythmic motion, driving himself into her, withdrawing, driving in again.

Mattie’s body responded instinctively, lifting to meet him. Pleasure clenched inside her. She moaned against his mouth.

Time blurred. She lost all sense of who she was. She was primitive, animal, spiraling towards a cascade again, splintering into pleasure, bucking against him . . .

Edward withdrew abruptly, thrusting himself away from her, turning his back to her. His large body shuddered convulsively. She heard him groan, a sound like pain.

Mattie’s brain belatedly began working again. He’d done what she’d asked him to do. He had removed his organ before he could impregnate her.

She lay, struggling to catch her breath, her head turned towards him, watching as Edward’s ribcage expanded with each rasping inhalation he took. Did he feel the same bone-deep, languid pleasure she did?

Edward blew out a deep, shuddering breath and rolled to face her. For a moment they stared at each other in silence.

It would be easy to love him. She hovered on the brink of it—a trembling, swelling emotion in her breast.

“Are you all right?” He lightly brushed his knuckles over her cheek.

Emotion tightened Mattie’s throat.
Edward Kane, I could love you
. She swallowed and nodded.

“Did it hurt you?” she asked, remembering his strained groan. “To stop like that?”

He hesitated and then said, “No.”

“It did!”

The languid pleasure evaporated.

Mattie pushed up to sit. “Edward, why didn’t you tell me that it would hurt you? I wouldn’t have asked if I’d known!”

Edward sat up too. He captured one of her hands.

“It didn’t hurt.”

“But . . .”

“It doesn’t hurt to stop, Mattie. It’s just . . . not easy.”

Mattie frowned, studying his face. The candlelight cast a shadow over it. She couldn’t see his eyes clearly.

“It feels better to, um…to finish inside a woman?”

“Oh, yes,” Edward said. “Infinitely better.”

She remembered the spiraling pleasure, the cascade. Had withdrawing before he was finished meant that he’d not experienced that?

Guilt gathered in her chest. “I’m sorry, Edward. I didn’t realize that it . . .”

He shook his head. “Don’t apologize. It was still good.” His grip tightened on her hand. “In fact, it was excellent.”

He hesitated, and then said, with the air of making a confession, “This is the first time that I’ve lain with a woman since Waterloo.”

“Because of your injuries?” More guilt swamped her. “I didn’t think!”

“Why should you?” Edward sounded amused. “I’m not an invalid, Mattie.”

“But your leg, your ribs . . .”

“Are healed now.”

“You limp. And this still hurts you.” She pulled her hand free of his grip, touched the bayonet scar, remembering how he’d shrugged when she’d asked if it hurt.

Edward recaptured her hand. “It pulls a little sometimes. But not now.”

“But what we just did . . .”

He laughed softly and shook his head.

“Mattie, trust me, when a man is making love to a woman, he doesn’t feel pain. He feels…” He paused, not as if searching for a word, but rather as if savoring a memory. “He feels only pleasure. Pleasure so intense that it’s almost impossible to think.”

Her skin was cooling rapidly. Mattie shivered.

Edward gathered her in his arms. “Cold?”

Not now that he held her. Mattie inhaled the scent of his skin. He smelled so different from her, so
male
. The smell gave her a feeling of contentment low in her belly.

“Was it what you expected?”

“Much,
much
better,” she whispered against his shoulder.

“Yes,” Edward said. “I thought it was too.”