Page 80 of Bookshop Cinderella

Her hands slid down, her fingertips grazing his belly and moving even lower. That he couldn’t allow, for if he did, her first time would be far too quick and far less romantic than she deserved.

“That’s enough,” he said and grasped her wrists, drawing her hands away and sinking to his knees. “Stop teasing me.”

He grasped her foot in his hands. “I almost wish you had stockings on,” he said and slid off her slipper.

“Why?” she asked, giving a shaky laugh. “So you could take them off?”

“Yes. The day I came to your shop to inquire about the dinner party,” he went on as he tossed aside her shoe and began removing the other one, “I watched you step up on a ladder, and I caught a glimpse of a very pretty little red garter.”

“You saw my garter?”

“I did, and to me, it proved beyond doubt that despite what Freddie and his friends believed, you weren’t the least bit prim. In fact, it led me to think perhaps there was a very naughty girl under that shirtwaist and necktie.”

“I’m not the least bit naughty!” she protested.

“No?” He chuckled, tossing her second shoe to join the first one as he looked up at her. “My darling Evie,” he said tenderly, “if you weren’t at least a little bit naughty, you wouldn’t be here.”

Having established that irrefutable point, he slowly began gliding his hands up the backs of her legs. “It was that red garter, by the way, that started my imagination thinking how it would be to make love with you.”

As he spoke, his fingertips skimmed over the backs of her knees, and she wobbled a little on her feet, making him pause. “Ah,” he murmured, tickling her there, “like that, do you?” He grinned as she gave a shivering gasp.

“If we had time,” he murmured, “I’d kiss you there, and every inch of your gorgeous legs, all the way from your pretty feet to your shapely bum. But that, my sweet, will have to wait for another day. Right now, I have something else in mind.”

He straightened on his knees. Cupping one of her breasts in his hand, he leaned in, opening his mouth over the other, flicking his tongue over her turgid nipple. She gasped, her head tilting back, her hands raking through his hair to cradle his head.

He caressed her and toyed with her, shaping her breasts, suckling her nipples until she was moaning low in her throat and her body was quivering. Pulling back, he yanked her gown down the rest of the way and slid an arm around the backs of her thighs, pressing a kiss to her stomach.

She stirred in agitation, but his arm tightened around her hips, anchoring her in place as he kissed her again a little lower, then lower still.

Her fingers worked convulsively in his hair, and she began to whimper, stirring in his hold, her hips instinctively trying to move, but he wouldn’t let her, tightening his hold to increase the tension.

“Max,” she wailed softly in protest. “Oh, oh, oh.”

He moved an inch lower, and kissed her again, his lips grazing the apex of her thighs.

She jerked, crying out in shock. “Max, oh, don’t!”

He stilled, his breath tickling her curls. “Evie,” he said, his voice a bit unsteady, “I’ve dreamed of kissing you here, touching you here. Let me do this.”

She hesitated, then her hold slackened, her body relented. “All right,” she whispered, and he lowered his arm, easing her back an inch or two until she was up against the bed.

“Grab the footboard behind you,” he said, and when she did, he leaned in, nuzzling her. “Part your thighs.”

She complied, and he slid his hand between her legs, his finger probing the crease of her sex. She was soft and wet, and the scent of her made him dizzy. He caressed her again, and again, until her hips were moving in frantic jerks and soft, primitive cries were coming from her throat. Then, at last, he drew his hand back, nuzzled between her thighs, and ever so gently grazed her clitoris with his tongue.

She came almost at once, long, sweet sobs of feminine release, her body shuddering, her hips jerking against his mouth, but he didn’t stop. He lashed her with his tongue until she came again, and then again, until at last she collapsed, letting go of the brass footboard as her knees gave way.

He caught her as he stood up, lifting her into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her breath coming in gasps hot and quick against his throat as he carried her to the bed and laid her on the sheets.

She stared up at him, stunned. No biology text, no erotic poetry, nor any other words she’d ever read had prepared her for what had just happened. That sweet, hot tension, a bit like what she’d felt every time she’d thought of his impassioned words at Idyll Hour, only so much stronger, building and building until her entire body was on fire, and then...explosions of sensation, one after another, again and again. Even now, she still felt it, tiny convulsions deep inside.

But there was more to come. Even if she hadn’t known it, Max’s hot, intense gaze would have told her so as he slid his dressing gown off his shoulders.

The mattress dipped with his weight as he lay down beside her. Reaching under his pillow, he pulled out the box, removed the condom, and tossed the box on the floor beside the bed. Her gaze slid down his naked body to his groin, and as he slid the condom over his hard arousal, she remembered his words about pain, and for the first time, she felt a jolt of nervousness. “Max?”

He seemed to sense it, for he rolled to his side and reached out to caress her cheek. “If you want to stop, Evie, please tell me now,” he said, his eyes hungry with need, his voice surprisingly gentle. “If you tell me later,” he added, smiling a little, “I fear it’ll rip me in half.”

The admission and the smile disarmed her, and her nervousness passed as quickly as it had come. She smiled back at him, curling her hand behind his neck. “I don’t want to back out,” she whisperedas she pulled him close and kissed him.

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