For some reason, Ethan seemed to find the comment more amusing than it warranted. Laughter glimmered in his eyes, and the dimple appeared in his cheek. Garrett was unable to resist touching the tempting little hollow with her fingertip. She leaned forward to press her lips against it.

“Every time I see this, I want to kiss it,” she told him.

“Kiss what?”

“Your dimple.”

Ethan looked genuinely perplexed. “I don’t have a dimple.”

“Yes, you do. It shows when you smile. Has no one ever mentioned it?”

“No.”

“Haven’t you seen it in the mirror?”

The outside corners of his eyes crinkled. “I don’t usually smile at the mirror.” His hand curled around the back of her neck, and he possessed her mouth with warm, hungering pressure. She opened to the silky intrusion of his tongue, the exquisite taste of him making her head swim. He eased her back onto the bed, kissing her lazily, filling her senses with slow fire. Gentle hands moved over the nightgown, learning the shape of her body through the thin muslin.

Tentatively she touched the light mat of hair on his chest, the curls soft and crisp against her fingertips. She reached around him, and her eyes flew open as she felt how deeply developed and distinct the muscles of his back were. “Good heavens.”

Ethan lifted his head and gave her a questioning look.

“Your trapezius and deltoids are remarkable,” she said dreamily, her hands wandering over him. “And your latissimus dorsi are so perfectly defined.”

A low laugh broke from him as he unfastened her nightgown. “You’ll embarrass me with all these flowery compliments.”

His weight settled partially over her, his thigh nudging hers apart, and she felt his lips on her chest, skimming softly over newly revealed skin. Her breathing deepened, her pulse rushing, while his hands wandered everywhere, tugging at her nightgown, slipping under it. Soon she was naked, with all the textures of him, roughness, smoothness, hardness, silk, covering her gently. He was utterly in control, guiding her into a realm where he was the master and she was the novice.

His strong hands moved over her slim body with gossamer-light strokes. “I’ve dreamed of this for so long,” he whispered. “The first time we met, part of my brain said, ‘I want that one.’”

Garrett smiled against the furry surface of his chest. She nuzzled against the neat, dark circle of a male nipple and touched her tongue to it. “Why didn’t you pursue me, then?”

“I knew you were too fine for me.”

“No,” she protested softly. “I’m not a highborn lady, I’m a commoner.”

“There’s nothing common about you.” Ethan began to play with her long hair, sifting his fingers through it, lifting a lock to brush the ends against his lips and cheeks. “Do you want to know why I gave you violets? They’re beautiful and small, but tough enough to grow in the cracks of city pavement. More than once, I’ve been in some dark place and seen them clustered near a broken stoop, or at the base of a brick wall, bright as jewels. Even without sunlight or good soil, they show up to do a flower’s job.”

He bent to press his lips against the gilded curve of her breast, as if he could taste the light on her skin. “There was no need to leave a lamp burning in your room,” he whispered. “I could find you anywhere, in daylight or darkness.” Slowly he kissed and licked a trail of heat between her breasts, leaving faint traces of wetness that cooled in the wake of his breath. He delved into her navel and blew gently into the small hollow . . . and paused as an unexpected scent caught his attention. “Lemon,” he murmured, hunting for the source of the fragrance.

“It’s . . . a sponge,” Garrett said cautiously, a wash of color spreading over her throat and face. One of the ways to guard against pregnancy was to insert a piece of soft sponge dampened with lemon juice. “It . . . it goes inside . . .”

“Yes, I know,” Ethan murmured, nuzzling lower on her stomach.

“You do?”

A smile curved against her skin. “I’m no fledgling lad.”

Gently his hand parted her thighs, his fingertips sliding down the insides to her knees, and back up again. Down . . . up . . . the stroking was hypnotic, undulating, as if she were being teased by delicate tentacles. His mouth ventured along the crease of her leg and groin, an electrifying hint of bristle rasping across the tenderness as he nudged deeper, lower. Slowly his fingers slid into the protective curls that covered her sex, kneading and stroking, his thumbs parting the soft furrow. He pushed his tongue in and upward, separating the folds with a long, sinuous lick.

Garrett stiffened and gasped, pushing at his head.

Ethan propped himself on his elbows, a gleam of tenderly mocking amusement in his eyes. “Have I shocked you, love?”

Garrett found it hard to think. Her entire body was throbbing. “A little,” she said unsteadily. “It is my first time.”

“But you sounded so adventurous earlier, with all your talk of positions.” His fingers began to toy with her indecently, sifting among the feathery curls.

Desire seemed to radiate from her—she was surprised not to see wisps of steam rising from her skin. “I . . . I expected we’d start in a more civilized way, and work up to more adventurous things later.”

One corner of his mouth quirked lazily. “You didn’t invite me to your bed expecting a civilized lover.” His thumb stroked into the tender slit of her sex and circled through a slick of wetness. A shiver of pleasure centered in the depths of her body.

He shot her a glance of concentrated blue heat across the blushing surface of her skin, seeming to read her thoughts as if they’d been emblazoned in the air. “You wanted to find out how much I could make you feel. You wanted to know what it was like to lose yourself in passion, and find yourself safe in my arms afterward. Now I’m here, and I’m going to love you with everything I have in me.”

His fingers gently parted her, teasing their way among silky pleats and petals. Mesmerized, she watched his head lowering, the powerful shoulders flexing. He began to feast on her slowly, and it felt so good she thought she might faint. His tongue coaxed and tormented, darting and swirling. Her flesh became wetter, silkier, the inner lips turning full and hot, intimate muscles clamping helplessly on emptiness. He searched the intricate secrets of her sex, growling softly in satisfaction at the private taste of her. Please please please she wanted to beg, but the only sound she could make was a quiet whimper. The desire he aroused left no room for dignity.

Nothing could have drawn her attention away from him and what he was doing to her. An entire marching band could have come blaring through the room, and she wouldn’t have noticed. She had become a purely physical being, writhing mindlessly until Ethan’s arms slid beneath her thighs and curled around them, holding her snug and still. His attention centered on the peak of her clitoris, drawing it out, flicking delicately. Desperately she reached down to grip his upper arms, the bulges of muscle so hard that her fingertips couldn’t make the slightest dent.

His tongue began a new rhythm, crossing over the sensitive bud in fluid, steady stroking, like fingers turning the pages of a book. Intense feeling coursed through every part of her, making her hips jerk helplessly in his cradling grip. The agile tongue never faltered, urging her into a dizzying rise of sensation. She arched at the summit, her breath stopping, her heart laboring too hard to distinguish the spaces between the beats. Pleasure came in a series of hard shudders . . . again . . . again . . . until what tension remained broke into finespun shivers. His mouth soothed her for a measureless interval, easing her into peacefulness, until she was as limp as an empty glove. Eventually he moved up beside her and gathered her in his arms. She made a frazzled little sound against his shoulder, drawing a chuckle from him.

“You liked that,” he said with masculine satisfaction.

Garrett nodded dreamily.

Gently Ethan reached down to bring her hips against his as they lay sideways. “You’ll need to stay relaxed,” he whispered, “to take me inside.”

She felt his shaft against her belly, heavy and stiff, searing hot. The evidence of his desire excited her, reawakening the need to be possessed . . . filled . . . taken. She slid her arm around his shoulder and tried to roll to her back with him, but he kept them on their sides, and drew her top leg over his hip. Leaning over her, he kissed the side of her neck and closed his teeth lightly against a sensitive place. His hand slid over her body, fondling and stroking. She was pressed against the solid strength of him, her breasts teased by the silky-coarse hairs on his chest.

He reached between them, adjusting the angle of his erect length, rubbing the broad, hard head of it against the vulnerable cove between her thighs. She tensed in readiness. But he didn’t push, only maintained a gentle, constant pressure, a heated presence there at the entrance of her body. His mouth teased and sucked at hers, invading playfully. Cupping her breast with his hand, he rotated his palm gently over the stiff tip before taking it between his fingers.

She couldn’t help squirming at the wickedly experienced caresses, the undulation of her hips working against the head of his shaft. The opening of her body smarted and stretched. The intrusion felt impossibly wide. Daunted, she tried to hold still, but his beguiling hand slid down, fingers dancing over the folds of her sex, spreading and teasing her. Hunger knotted deep in her belly, and she was overcome by the impulse to press herself into those erotic, tickling caresses. He was mercifully slow, letting her accept him at her own pace—oh, those fingers felt so good—

“Breathe,” he whispered.

She gasped, stretched, ached, quivered on his shaft. He helped her with gentle pushes, inching gradually in a slow, patient possession. Leisurely minutes passed while his wet fingertips stroked, kneaded, and circled until, unbelievably, the pleasure crested again. This time, she was filled so tightly that her muscles could barely clench around him.

When the last ripples of release had faded, he changed their position, lifting her easily, sitting up and letting her slide down until she was in his lap with her legs wrapped around his waist. His hands cupped beneath her bottom, carefully controlling the depth of his penetration to keep from hurting her.

Bewildered, she sat with her arms around his neck.

His eyes were dark and slightly glazed as they stared into hers. “Being inside you like this . . . I wouldn’t have thought I could feel so much without dying of it.”

She leaned her forehead against his, their breaths mingling in unsteady surges. “Tell me what to do.”

“Don’t move. Stay like this. Feel how much I want you.” He panted and trembled, his deeply muscled thighs flexing beneath her. The small motion sent a rain of sparks across her vision. He adjusted the angle of her hips until she felt him pressing against something deep and sensitive inside her, nudging in a steady rhythm.