Nalini Singh - Craving Beauty

He grazed her skin with his teeth, deciding he liked the taste of his wife. Later, after she was more at ease with him, he intended to take his own sweet time tast­ing all the secret places of her body. "It's for a husband to teach his wife, not for everyone to know."

"Oh." She wouldn't look at him, but he let her face the glass wall. The hunger in his eyes was likely to scare her.

He'd kept his mouth shut when she'd shyly undressed before following him into the shower, though he'd wanted to swallow his tongue at seeing her naked for the first time. Even after her maddening "help," he wasn't going to push her to do something she wasn't ready for, and it had been obvious that getting into the shower with him had taken every ounce of courage she had.

When he hadn't forced anything on her, letting her become used to his body and his strength, she'd begun to relax. But she was still far from giving him the wel­come he needed if he was going to take her to his bed. As he'd told her, an unwilling woman held no joy for him. However, he had no intention of letting her do all the work in this mutual seduction.

With her hair pinned atop her head, the vulnerable line of her nape was bared. He pressed a kiss to the ten­der skin, giving her the gentleness she'd accused him of lacking and had the pleasure of feeling her tremble against his hands and lips.

"Will I truly be your only lover?" he whispered close to her ear, his palms flat on the shower walls on either side of her head. She was enclosed but in walls that would break the moment she displayed any resistance. It was his way of teaching her not to fear either his pas­sion-rough voice or his desire-taut body.

"Yes." Her murmur was as soft as the feel of her skin.

Taking a chance, he slid a hand down the front of her body and cupped one heavy breast. She gasped, her body going taut. He squeezed gently, his mind whirling at the feel of her, the sensual weight of her in his palm. The things he was intending to do to her sweet flesh would probably curl her toes. "Princess, if we do this, no more separate bedrooms."

Silence.

"What? Don't like the terms?" He kept his hand on her breast, proprietary as hell. She'd given herself to him. Now she had to take all of him. No playing by arbitrary rules. Either they were husband and wife or they weren't. "If you don't, we stop right now. Right here." Reining in the possessiveness driving him, he gentled his demand­ing tone. "This is enough for today, if you're not ready."

The only urgency lay in the desire that had a stran­glehold on his body. And that he could control if Hira was unwilling. She'd shown such courage in coming to him despite his anger that he'd grant her all the time she needed.

"I. . . My parents never. . . Is this acceptable?" It was a hesitant question.

The flaring possessiveness within him calmed at the innocent explanation. His wife had led a sheltered life, her only example of marriage being what she'd seen be­tween her parents. It was becoming very clear to him that he'd have to fight those memories to claim her as his own.

Only then did he realize that he'd decided to fight for more than a marriage based on desire and practicality. He wanted the real thing. "I'm your husband and I say it is. Do you doubt me?" Smiling, he kissed the side of her neck.

A short pause. "No." But she didn't sound utterly con­vinced by his dominance in the relationship. He didn't want her to be. A wife who always agreed with him would be no fun at all. A real marriage included disagreements as much as it did loving, laughter and loyalty.

Grinning against her, he released her breast and soaped up his hands before putting the soap in the holder. A question shimmered into his mind. "Should I get protection, sweetheart?"

He felt her blush heat up her skin. "No. I visited a doctor before our marriage."

Delighted at not having to halt his exploration, he took a step back and ran his hands from her shoulders to the tops of her thighs. Her buttocks tightened under his touch and he stroked up to rub the soap in circles, blocking the spray with his body so that she remained soapy for his pleasure.

She made a tiny, woman sound. "Am I very dirty?"

He was fascinated by her smooth bottom, very aware of the heat and silky pleasure that awaited him below the curve he was caressing. Voracious and impatient, the rush of need was almost savage, but he controlled it with ruthless force. This time was about teaching his prin­cess that she now belonged to the American she'd mar­ried. Without compromise.

"Filthy," he whispered against her neck. "The front of you is going to need extra attention."

She shook her head in desperation. "No, I'll do it."

"Uh-uh," he disagreed. "My privilege."

"Husband, what you make me feel may drive me crazy. You do not wish for a crazy wife."

Her panicked words made him want to tease her some more. Wrapping his arms around her body, he closed his hands over her breasts and then pressed his body flush against her back. In an effort to escape, she squeezed her­self against the glass wall of the shower. He followed. His erection lay between them, hot and throbbing.

"Husband, please." The husky plea asked for mercy...not for an end to this highly charged game of pleasure but for completion.

"Don't you like this, cher ?" She wiggled her body in response, settling him even more snugly against her.

"Stop that, unless you want me inside you right here, right now."

"Okay." She nodded vigorously. "I'm not afraid. You have been very careful of me. I'm ready. Truly, I am,"

He chuckled. "You're not getting away that easily."

"Why do you torture me?"

"Maybe I'm taking revenge for all the bad things you've done to me." He nipped at her neck again, aware that she reacted each time he indulged himself that way. . . She was a quiet lover, but he was a man who'd grown up with the whispers of the bayou. He knew how to listen for the softest of his wife's sighs, how to read the sweet tension in her feminine muscles, how to smell the scent of her desire. Hira was telling him what she liked, and he was paying damn close attention.

"I have not done such things!" She pushed back in rage but he was far stronger.

Fighting an urge to laugh in delight, he moved his hands until her nipples were between his fingers. At the same time, he nudged one leg between her thighs. She gasped. "Are you wet for me, Hira?" He pinched her nipples gently.

"I. . ." Her whole body trembled.

"Maybe I should check." He slid one hand from her breast down her damp stomach to the curls at the junc­ture of her thighs. Because his thigh was between hers, she couldn't close her legs even if she'd wanted to. He went slowly, watching for any sign that she wanted him to stop, even going so far as to start to slide his thigh out. She squeezed her legs together, not to halt his hand, but his withdrawal. His mouth dry with anticipation, he thrust his hair-roughened thigh between her smooth ones once more, his hand resting below her navel.

Whimpering, she let his fingers slide through her curls and into the delicate folds between her legs. So un­bearably soft that she made him feel incredibly male, she shuddered as he stroked her sensitive flesh in search of heat. When he found it, he gently pushed a single fin­ger inside her, just enough to tantalize, to tempt. She cried out, her slender frame racked by tremors. His own body went taut with desperation.

"Yes, you're wet." Voice beyond rough, he removed his hand and her body tried to follow. Chuckling hoarsely, he drew back and turned her in his arms, let­ting the water wash over her. "Wet all over."

Eyes almost blind with desire met his. "You must fin­ish," she ordered.

"In a while." He had no idea how he was remaining in control. Perhaps it was the fact that despite her nat­ural sultriness, she was an innocent and didn't know how to push him to the edge.