"All the men in my family are married to strong, sexy women. I envied them. And I wondered if I would ever find someone of my own. Someone to equal their wives. Now I know I have. And I know that we're going to be very, very good together."
He stroked his fingers down her arms, then drew them back to her shoulders, playing with her collarbone before letting his fingers drift to the tops of her breasts, watching her face.
She felt emotions warring inside her.
"What if it all goes wrong? What if I disappoint you?"
"You won't disappoint me. Right now, I just want to make you feel good."
His voice lulled her, calmed her, yet she couldn't quite believe what he was saying. "That's all?"
"Well… I want to touch you more intimately. If you'll let me, I can show you how much pleasure a woman can feel."
"It already feels wonderful," she whispered.
"How?"
She felt her cheeks heat. "It's hard to talk about it."
"I know. But I'd like to know if we're on the right track."
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
RINNA LICKED HER dry lips, watching Logan follow the small movement. "It feels… like a buzzing in my body."
"I'd like to show you where it leads."
She had never known she could feel words. But the way he said it was like a caress against her skin. Before she could stop herself, she added more. "And… and it feels like the skin is too tight across my breasts."
"Good." He angled his mouth so that he could kiss her. This time the kiss was so tender that she felt her heart melting.
"Rinna. I won't hurt you. Ever."
She still couldn't quite believe him, but her body craved more of what he offered, and she was helpless to turn away.
With tender care, he kissed the line of her jaw, the side of her neck, the small triangle of flesh at the opening of her collar.
Her heart was pounding, and her head was spinning—from the sensations he created and from the knowledge that she was taking the biggest risk of her life.
Carefully, he unbuttoned the top button of the shirt she wore, then lightly kissed the skin he exposed. His lips sent a shiver through her.
"Don't be afraid of me."
"I'm not," she told him, willing it to be true.
"Some men take their pleasure from a woman and don't care about giving any of that pleasure back. Or they don't know how. I've always thought that was criminal."
He opened another button, then another. When she looked down, she could see the inner curve of her breasts where the front of the shirt no longer closed.
Slowly, giving her time to absorb what he was doing, stopping to talk to her and kiss her, he stroked those curves, first one side and then the other.
She closed her eyes and clenched her hands, ordering herself not to leap away.
He kept up the stroking, and she felt her nipples tighten until they became hard points of sensation.
He touched them through the shirt, rubbing back and forth across each crest.
"Oh!"
"You like that?"
"Yes," she breathed out.
"It feels even better skin to skin. Like when you brushed your breasts against me. Can I show you?"
She hesitated for a moment, then gave a small nod. He slipped his hand under the shirt, finding one tight point, rubbing it, then taking it between his thumb and finger and squeezing gently.
When he pushed the fabric aside and circled the other aching bud with his tongue, she began to tremble.
"Are you all right?"
"Yes. I didn't know anything could feel that good."
"There's a lot more. We're just getting started." He kissed her lightly, then drew back. "But it only works if you feel comfortable with me. Will it scare you if I take off my shirt?"
"I…" She honestly didn't know.
Reaching for the hem of his T-shirt, he pulled it off. The top part of him was naked. When she caught her breath, he took her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the hollow of her palm, then nibbling at her knuckles.
She turned her hand, stroking his lips with her finger.
"That's nice."
She focused on his face, because she had to keep reminding herself that this was Logan—and he had said he would take care of her. And this wasn't so different from the night before when she had rolled up her shirt.
Still, her heart was hammering inside her chest as he pushed her shirt aside, then gathered her to him, moving her body so that he slid her nipples against the roughened hair of his chest.
Like last night, she reminded herself, only now he was the one doing it.
"That feels wonderful," he told her, his voice shaky, and she knew it was affecting him as much as it affected her. That helped steady her. Dropping her gaze, she looked down his body, seeing the bulge in his pants, and a dart of worry pierced her.
"Yeah, this is turning me on."
She gulped. "You want to do it to me."
"Of course. But, like I said, that part of my body doesn't rule me."
"I've heard women talking…"
He made a scoffing noise. "Don't believe all the crap about uncontrolled lust. I'll keep my pants on," he said, like last night. "We're doing this for you, just so you can find out how much you like being with me." He gave her a long look. "Everything's still all right?"
She nodded, tensing a little as he shifted position again. But he only reached down to stroke her ankle, then massage her arch, before taking each of her toes in his fingers and twisting them. "Does that feel good?" he asked.
"Yes," she breathed.
He stroked her ankle again, then pressed his fingers over her pants leg and slid his hand upward, playing with her knee then drifting to her thigh, but never higher.
The technique was effective, because it made her want more.
One hand returned to her breasts, caressing one and then the other, making her nipples ache so that she arched into the caress, silently begging for more.
"You like that?"
She moved her legs restlessly. His hand on her thigh slid upward, pressing between her legs where sensation pulsed. "You feel it here, too?"
She could only answer with an inarticulate sound.
His slow, careful touches and the increasing intimacy were overwhelming her senses, turning her molten with pleasure she had never known before.
It was more than she could have imagined, yet she wanted more still. And when he pressed harder against the aching spot between her legs, she writhed under his touch.
"I want you to feel all the pleasure I can give you."
Slowly he slipped his fingers inside the waistband of her pants, pressing over her mound, combing his fingers through the crinkly hairs then dipping lower.
When she tensed, he waited, teasing one nipple with his tongue and teeth, until she cried out and twisted against him.
She had never imagined asking for this. She couldn't ask, not with words. But he seemed to understand what she wanted. The hand under her pants clipped lower. He stroked her with two fingers, reaching down to glide and press against her most intimate flesh while he lowered his mouth to her breast again, sucking her nipple into his mouth.
The sensations reinforced each other, building so that she teetered on the brink between pleasure and frustration, feeling her body questing urgently for something she didn't know how to name.
There was no thought of stopping him when he slipped his fingers inside her, then up to that throbbing spot that ached with need.
"Just let go. Fly with it. Just let yourself feel how good it can be," he whispered, holding her close as he guided her into a world where need wiped away fear.
He was right. She felt like she was flying away from the earth—as free as her white bird form, her hips rising and falling as she struggled to increase the wonderful sensations his fingers were drawing from her.
As if he sensed what she needed, he changed the angle of his hand, pressing harder and driving her pleasure up and up until he pushed her into a high air current where only heat and light existed.
Crying out his name, she clung to him as wave after wave of ecstasy radiated from the place where his fingers stroked between her legs. The sensations crashed over her, through her, leaving her limp and shaken.
She had arched off the sleeping bag. He lowered her down again gently, kissing her brow, smoothing her damp hair back from her face. And when her eyes blinked open, she found he was smiling at her.
"That was so beautiful," he whispered.
She could only stare at him, marveling at the explosion that had taken her away from the world.
"What happened?"
"You reached sexual climax."
"I didn't know there was… anything like that for a woman."
"I guessed that." He gathered her to him, kissed her gently, and she snuggled against him.
"Don't the women in your world have any fun in bed?"
"I think some do." She swallowed hard. "I think maybe… maybe in school they gave us something so we wouldn't."
"A nasty trick to play on you. Why would they do that?"
"This would have been distracting."
"Oh, yeah."
She sensed that his body was still humming with tension—the same tension she had felt before he'd brought her to that vivid peak of satisfaction.
She drew back, her gaze going to the slacks he still wore, seeing the rigid shaft of flesh straining behind his zipper. Raising her eyes, she searched his face. "You did that for me, and you didn't take anything for yourself."
"Yes. I wanted to love you, any way I could."
The next step was overwhelming, but she took it anyway. "I want you to feel what I felt."
He kissed her cheek, sifted his fingers through her hair. "We can save the rest for another time."
"I want to do it now. I want to give you as much pleasure as you gave me—if you'll let me." Pretending more boldness than she felt, she reached between them, pressing her hand over him, moving her palm and fingers, her eyes still on his face.
"Oh, Lord, Rinna," he gasped, his hips arching toward her, and she knew he had banked his own urgency to please her.
"Show me how… Show me what feels as good to you as what you did for me."
"You're sure?"
She wasn't, of course. But she wasn't going to let herself back away. Still she had to stifle a gasp as he pulled off his pants, and she saw his penis was hard and red.
Unconfined by his clothing, it sprang away from his body, and as she watched, it seemed to move on its own.
She clenched her fists as she stared at the part of his body that he could use as a weapon.
To her eyes, it was enormous, with the swollen head a good deal wider across than the shaft.
He pressed his palms against the sleeping bag. "You're still the one in control," he said, his voice gritty.
She nodded but some part of her mind was shocked and amazed that she was still lying in the tent beside him. Her throat had turned so dry that she could hardly swallow. But somehow she stayed where she was. And when she dared to look at more than that one part of him, she saw that he was still lying with his palms pressed against the sleeping bag.
"That frightens you," he said in a hoarse voice.
She moistened her lips. "Yes."
"Well, we can put it back in my pants."
"No."
"Okay, then. Anything you want to do to me will feel wonderful."
"You trust me that much?"
"Yes."
She had learned that a man could say one thing and mean another. But Logan lay staring up at her with a look of total confidence in his eyes. She knew he had made himself vulnerable to her as few men would dare to do, and that was enough to tighten her throat muscles.
"What should I do?" she whispered.
"That's up to you," he said, his fingers clenching the sleeping bag.
She pressed her hand to his flat stomach, feeling the muscles jump. Then she stroked his chest, playing with his nipples the way he had played with hers, gratified by his response.
It took a few moments before she could slide her hand lower again, over the flat plane of his belly, threading her fingers through the thatch of dark hair, working her way toward the base of his penis. Tentatively, she stroked one finger up the length of the hardened flesh, tracing the ridge of a vein.
He didn't speak again. He didn't move. Yet she sensed the tension radiating from him.
Before she could stop herself, she closed her hand around the hot shaft and heard him make a strangled exclamation.
She half expected him to rear up and push her backward so that he'd come down on top of her. But he stayed where he was, still giving her permission to do anything she wanted—or nothing.
It was that permission which emboldened her. Letting her own sensual needs guide her, she squeezed him—first gently, then with more force. He hardened even further under her touch, until his penis became a velvet-covered steel rod.
"That feels good," she whispered.
He laughed. "At this end, too."
She clasped him more tightly, playing with him, experimenting to see what he liked best. As she moved her hand up and down, she felt his whole body go rigid.
"Tell me how to give you the same pleasure you gave me."
"Harder. Can you do it harder. And faster," he gasped out.
She did as he asked. And if she had any doubt left that she was doing the right thing, it evaporated when his hips rose off the sleeping bag, straining upward.
She could hear his breathing, fast and heavy and full of groans cut short by the next gasp for breath.
She kept moving her hand, her gaze rising to his face, seeing the tightness, the focus, the pleasure that she was giving him.
Then she felt his body jerk as thick white liquid spurted from him.
He called her name between panting breaths. Then he lay still. And when he circled her shoulder and pulled her down to lie beside him, she felt a kind of pride that astonished her.
She had done something very simple and basic, and yet doing it had freed her in a way that she hadn't expected.
"Thank you," he whispered.
"I'm glad I did that."
"Oh, yeah." He clasped her close, and they rested there for a long moment.
"When I was little, I would be in my bedroom, and I would hear my momma with Jandar. I would hear them talking and laughing. Then I'd hear their breathing get fast, like panting. I didn't understand it, and I'd put the covers over my head. I thought he was hurting her because she was his slave and she had to do anything he wanted."
He made a rough sound. "I heard my parents, too. But I guess I knew they were having a good time."
"How?"
"From the way they were together when they weren't in bed. She'd be cooking dinner and he'd come up behind her and kiss her neck or do something else, and I knew that when they got in bed, they were going to enjoy each other. That's what I want for us."
"He didn't dominate her?"
He shifted next to her. "That's a problem in my family. The guys tend to be commanding, at least in my father's generation. But with my brothers and my cousins, the marriages are more of a partnership."
"A partnership," she murmured, trying to imagine it.