It was over. She couldn’t fight any longer.

“I don’t like this,” she whispered. “It… hurts.”

His other arm joined the first in encircling her, cradling her back against him with a strange tenderness. “Only the wanting hurts,” he said thickly in her ear. “That’s why it has to stop-the rest is beyond anything.”

“Do you promise?”

He laughed huskily. “Oh yes, I promise.” He held her for a moment more and then took a step back and began unbuttoning her gown. “I’ll promise you the world, if you want it.”

“I don’t want the world,” she said. Poor Jordan, she thought dully, he always believed that in the end he had to pay for what he wanted. How terrible to live with a cynicism that deeply ingrained.

It seemed odd to be standing here like a weary child while Jordan undressed her. She was weary, and her body had grown so accustomed to aching with need that she accepted it without question. The gown fell to the floor, and she stepped out of it. “I don’t want anything from you.”

“Turn around.”

She didn’t want to turn around. She wore only a thin chemise, and she felt suddenly shy and uncertain.

“Turn around. I want to see you.”

She slowly turned to face him.

She saw his expression.

She was no longer weary.

“You do want something from me.” His hands went to her hair, hovered, and then brushed the tresses back with a gossamer-light touch. “Come here.” He reached out and pushed the chemise down to her waist and then brought her to lean against him.

She began to tremble. Her breasts were swelling, the nipples pebble-hard as they touched the crispness of his shirt.

His hands were on her bare back, his fingers drawing sensual circles on the smooth flesh. “Lord, you’re soft.”

His hands slid down and cupped her bottom and then pulled her into the hollow of his hips.

Arousal. Stark. Rigid.

Her trembling became a long shudder of need.

“Shh. It’s all right. This is what you want.” He moved her carefully against him, letting her feel the strength of him.

He thought she was afraid. If she could have spoken through the hot mist of need, she would have told him she was beyond fear. She was aware only of what she had to have from him. Her hands clutched his shoulders, and she pressed against him. Hard.

He froze. “Gently. We have to go gently.”

After a week of tantalizing arousal she could not think of gentleness. “Do it.” Her words were muffled in his shirt. “Now.”

“I couldn’t be more in agreement.” His hand reached up between them and cupped her breast in his palm, his thumbnail flicking the taut nipple.

She arched upward with a low cry.

He slid the chemise down from her hips. “Spread your legs, Marianna.”

She obeyed without question. He had described every intimate part of her body and what pleasure he would bring to it. This was part of it… his hands on her. She held on to him, or she would have fallen as his fingers plucked gently at the hair surrounding her womanhood. She held her breath as he went lower, searching until he found the small nub.

His thumb flicked and then pressed hard.

Her eyes widened in shock. Fire and pleasure. Need.

Her breath was coming in little pants as his thumb pressed, rotated. The muscles of her stomach tensed with every motion. She moved closer, offering him more.

“You like that?” He pressed harder, his other hand holding her at the small of the back. “It’s only the start.” His fingers fell away from her. “I think we’d best hurry. Come, we’ll go upstairs to bed.”

“Here.” Her gaze was drawn to the chair.

He understood at once. “No,” he said firmly. He started to pull her toward the door.

She refused to move. “Here.”

“You’re not ready- I’d hurt you.”

“Here.”

“Dammit!” He whirled on her, his nostrils flaring. “Why are you making this so difficult? Do you think I’m used to being with virgins? It’s killing me. I’m trying to-” He broke off as he saw her expression. “You obstinate woman. You don’t know what’s good for you.”

“Here.”

“Oh, what the devil!” He pulled her down on the floor. “I told you I’d be gentle with you. I don’t like to be made a liar.”

“The chair…” she whispered.

“Later.” He pushed aside her legs and came between them. He made an adjustment in his clothing. “This will be painful enough for you. I wanted a soft bed and clean sheets and the things a woman should have when she-” He was pressing against her. He stopped and looked down at her, his chest rising and falling with every breath. “I didn’t want it to be like this.”

“I don’t care. It doesn’t matter.” She bit down on her lower lip. Why did he not move and stop the emptiness? She instinctively arched up against him.

“Don’t!” He moved carefully into her. “Don’t move.”

Stretched. Throbbing. Empty.

She arched against him again. More. She had more, but it still wasn’t enough.

His features were contorted above her as if he were in pain. “No,” he said between his teeth.

She was suddenly furious with him. “You’ve said yes for over a week. Now isn’t the time to say no to me. It’s not fair.”

He looked down at her with glazed eyes. “Heaven forbid I be accused of such a crime.” His hips moved back, and for a panic-filled moment she thought he was going to withdraw.

He plunged forward to the hilt.

Pain!

She cried out, her head arching back on the rug.

He stopped, his weight on her, filling her completely.

He closed his eyes. “Shall I stop?”

The pain was fading, and she was becoming accustomed to the bold clublike hardness within her. She should feel full, but spasms of sensation were shooting through her. She knew what came next. He had described it to her every night of their stay here, and she would not be robbed of it. “No.”

“Good.” His laugh had a note of desperation as his lids flicked open. “I don’t know if I could have stopped anyway.” He drew out and then plunged deep. Again. And again. And again.

Rhythm. Hunger. Fast. Slow.

His hands beneath her buttocks, lifting her to every thrust. He was making low sounds deep in his throat, primal, animal sounds that made her own excitement more intense. Her head thrashed back and forth on the floor as the need became wilder, the tension tighter.

It was growing, coming nearer. “Jordan,” she gasped. “Jordan…”

He began rotating within her, his fingers seeking out the nub he had found before.

“Up,” he said hoarsely. “Come up to me.”

She was sobbing, her hips moving upward in rhythm to the motion of his thumb, helplessly obeying every command.

“More!”

Her spine arched off the floor. She cried out as he reached her womb.

He held her there, suspended, pulsating. The sensation was indescribable. Her mouth opened to scream.

He put her legs on his shoulders and kept her there. “Come to me,” he said through his teeth. “Now.”

She moaned, unable to move, the spasms growing.

“Let it come.”

She mustn’t scream. Only animals screamed when they mated.

She could not stand it. The tension climaxed, and she convulsed.

She screamed as her her nails dug into his shoulders!

Beyond anything.

He had said it was beyond anything, and he spoke the truth.

She was only vaguely aware of him changing position, easing her, moving, still stroking deep. Was there more? She wondered hazily.

Then he went still and an instant later gave a low cry. He fell forward, his arms around her, holding her. He felt weak, in need, in her embrace. Jordan was never weak, never in need, and yet, in this moment, he needed her.

Her arms tightened fiercely about him.

Beyond anything.

May we go upstairs now?” Jordan asked as soon as his breathing steadied. He lifted his head. “You probably have bruises. This floor is damnably hard.”

She stared up at him dazedly. He was still within her; she felt as if he had been there forever, a part of her. “I… don’t think so.” Perhaps she was bruised, but it didn’t matter. It was a small price to pay for what had gone before. “It felt…” She did not go on. There were no words.

“I’m glad your first time was not a disappointment.” His lips gently brushed her forehead before he moved off her and adjusted his breeches. “But now it’s time to go to bed.” He stood up and pulled her to her feet. “Ready?”

Her knees felt weak, and she swayed. He caught her and lifted her in his arms.

Her glance fell on the chair, and, incredibly, she felt a faint stirring.

“Oh no.” He instantly shook his head. “I’m beginning to regret telling you about that particular vision. We have to go slowly.” He left the workroom and climbed the stairs two at a time. “Everything in its time.”

She became suddenly aware of her nakedness against his fully clothed form. It gave her an uneasy feeling of vulnerability that caused a little of the dreamlike sensuality to disperse. “Where are you taking me?”

He shifted her in his arms and opened a door. “Your chamber, my lady. I thought you’d prefer it to mine.” He laid her on the bed and turned away. Only embers remained in the fireplace, and Jordan was moving about the room in darkness. “It’s easier to accept new experiences if you’re surrounded by the familiar.”

Clever, she thought drowsily, Jordan was always very clever. “I believe you’re a trifle late. I’ve already accepted the new experience.”

“Not entirely.” He was suddenly on the bed beside her, drawing her into his arms.

Solid, warm flesh. Naked flesh.

She instantly flinched away from him.

“Gently.” His hand gently stroked her hair. “You’ll grow used to me in your bed. It’s only the next step.”

“You have your own chamber,” she said stiltedly. “You need not be here with me. Dorothy says, even in marriage, gentlemen usually only pay their wives visits in order to indulge their lust or beget children.”