He was only squeezing her breast, yet the caress was generating a mysterious aching emptiness between her thighs. She moistened her lips with her tongue. "I wouldn't let you hurt me."
"A woman is helpless in certain positions… And I intend you to know every one of them." His hand dropped away, and he turned his back on her. "I'm growing impatient. Strip off your other garments if you don't wish me to tear them from you. You must have clothing to wear back to the palace."
She hesitated, trying to decide what to do. Instinct urged her to continue to try to explain, but he clearly didn't want to listen. Besides, wasn't this what she, too, wanted? The anticipation he had fostered in her for this new experience was approaching fever pitch. She wanted to know. Why should she deny what she wanted because his words annoyed her?
She slipped the divided gown off her shoulders and let it fall into a pool at her feet.
"Why did no one feel compassion for the witch?" Galen asked in a low voice.
She blinked. "What?"
"The witch must have felt affection for Rapunzel to have wanted to keep her safe from the sorrows of the world. Yet the sympathy is for those who betrayed her."
"I don't know what to—"
"Never mind. The thought just occurred to me."
She stepped over her gown, sat on the chair, and took off her stockings and suede boots. Then she stood. What did she do now? What did he want of her? She stepped closer and began to loosen the ribbon tying his queue.
The muscles of his back rippled as her breasts brushed his flesh. "What are you doing?"
"Isn't this why you turned your back on me?"
"No." His voice was hoarse. "I turned my back so that I could keep myself from lifting you and thrusting in you as you stood there."
She was immediately interested. "Is that possible? "
"Yes." His breathing was uneven. "More. Probable."
"I don't believe I ever saw Pauline do—" She stopped as he turned to her. "Will it hurt?"
"Not if you're ready for me."
"How do I know if I'm ready?"
"How? Yusef must have proved very inadequate if you don't know—" He broke off with a sardonic smile. "Good, I dislike the thought of him teaching you everything." His lips tightened. "Anything." He stepped closer, his hand cupping her womanhood, rubbing, caressing. Two fingers probed, explored. "Lord, you're tight."
She gasped as she felt the intimate intrusion. "Perhaps we'd better not—"
"The hell we won't," he muttered. "But not this way." He pulled her down on his cloak and knelt, facing her. "You're too little."
She dimly remembered what he had told her on their wedding night. "You said a woman was meant to take a man."
"I obviously shouldn't have been so general. You were meant to take me." His tone was almost a growl as he pushed her onto her back and parted her thighs. "Be quite still, and let me look at you."
But looking wasn't the only thing he was doing. His fingers were parting, probing, his gaze fastened on that most private part of her. Sudden shyness overwhelmed her, and she quickly shut her eyes. She felt as if she were melting into the cloak beneath her. Her breasts lifted and fell with every breath as she lay exposed and vulnerable before him while shiver after hot shiver stabbed through her.
His palms moved upward, sliding over her hips to fasten on either side of her slim waist.
"Merde, you're tiny. My hands almost reach around you." His grip tightened, letting her feel the hard power of his hands. "I could break you, if I wished." He released her waist, and his palms glided slowly over her flesh down her belly to the curls surrounding her womanhood. "But I'd have to be mad to destroy this." His fingers tangled, combed, petted the soft curls. "Look at me."
Her eyes opened. He was bending over her. His dark eyes glittered wildly in his flushed face as his hand searched. "I want to see you enjoy me. Do you know how many times I've thought about doing this?" He found what he had been searching for, and his thumb and forefinger closed upon her.
Her eyes widened in shock as a hot wave of convulsive pleasure tore through her.
He plucked and squeezed gently, skillfully, his gaze narrowed on her face, absorbing every nuance of expression. "Heat, Tess?"
"Yes…" She could barely force the word through the haze of pleasure he was bringing her. The tempo of the plucking accelerated, and she bit down on her lower lip to keep from crying out. She could feel the muscles of her stomach clenching, her spine arched helplessly up from the floor toward him. "Dear heaven, what—what are you doing to me?"
"I don't want to hurt you," he muttered as he widened her thighs and moved between them, nudging at the heart of her womanhood. "You had to be ready for me."
She tensed and immediately felt his hands on her belly, stroking, smoothing, soothing her. "Easy…" he murmured.
She doubted if he was even aware of that last action, for his expression reflected only a heavy dazed sensuality, and the words were spoken abstractedly. A flutter of warmth surged through her as she realized that no matter how deep his anger, he was instinctively trying to make the experience more palatable for her. She mustn't be such a coward about an act that happened to all women, she thought impatiently. This was what she had wanted him to do to her. "Go ahead," she whispered. "Now. I'm ready."
A harsh sound burst from him as he plunged forward.
She cried out as he broke through the barrier and buried himself deep within her.
She heard his shocked oath as he froze above her, but she was too busy trying to adjust to the intruder in her body. Pain was fading, and she was beginning to feel a delicious fullness.
"The hell you were ready," he said hoarsely. "Why didn't-—"
"Hush." She was savoring their joining, but rapidly discovering it wasn't enough. The aching emptiness was still not satisfied. "Don't talk. Move. I want to feel you."
He was still a moment, and then a crooked smile crossed his face. "Oh, you will. You're right, it's too late for talk." He withdrew, then began to thrust, slow, fast, shallow, deep. "Like this?"
She nodded frantically, her head moving back and forth on the cloak as a hot tension began to build within her.
He stopped for a moment, his hands reaching blindly out to cup her breasts. "Merde, you're holding me too tight—you're killing me."
Did that mean she was doing something wrong? Yet he didn't look in pain. He hunched over her, driving in and out, his dark hair streaming about his shoulders, his eyes shut, and an expression of agonized pleasure on his face.
She tried to move, to help him, but he was losing control, bucking, lifting her from the floor with each thrust. She could only hold on to him, lost in a delirium of sensation.
He rolled over, muttering wild words beneath his breath as he pulled her on top of him and bucked upward, again and again and again. Then, still not satisfied, he rolled over again and sat up, lifting her legs to curve around his hips. "You're not taking enough." His flesh was pulled tight over his high cheekbones, his lips heavy with sensuality as his hips jerked feverishly back and forth. "I need you close, part of me…"