“Oh, no, you don’t. No interference while I do this, lady. For now, you’re all mine.”
He flicked out his tongue to circle her aureole. Dimly Bethany heard a shuddering pant interlaced with soft whimpers and realized it was her making the sound. He curled his tongue around her nipple. The shock of heat and the silken drag sent a jolt through her that shook the mattress. She sobbed at the white-hot surges of electrical sensation and arched her spine, craving more, more, her lungs so emptied of breath that she couldn’t speak.
Ryan seemed to understand without her saying the words. He drew her into his mouth, the pull so unexpected and sharp that she cried out. Then he caught her throbbing flesh between his teeth. Red hazed her vision.
She sobbed and cried, “Oh, yes. Yes.” She felt him release her wrists, and she grabbed blindly for his shoulders, needing to feel him. She pushed in frustration at his shirt, her body feeling as if it was dissolving into molten liquid with every pull of his mouth. “Oh, Ryan, I love you, love you, love you.” She tugged frantically at his shirt, finally found bare skin, and reveled in the feeling of touching him. “Yes. Oh, yes. Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”
He chuckled and moved to nibble her throat. As he trailed more hot kisses south toward her breasts again, he whispered, “I’ll never stop. But I will take occasional detours that will be just as good.”
Nothing could compare to—his hot mouth was at her breast again, and whatever else she was about to think fled her mind. Ryan. Never in all her wildest fantasies had she imagined it might be this wonderful. Never.
He took one of those detours he’d just warned her about, trailing burning kisses to her navel, which he circled and nibbled, then invaded with his tongue. When he finally met her mesmerized gaze, he arched a wickedly dark eyebrow and asked, “Do you like this?”
She never would have believed that her belly button could be so sensitive, and she loved it. She just couldn’t find her voice to tell him. There was something incredibly erotic about watching him kiss her there. As though he guessed her thoughts, he desisted his ministrations to look up at her again. His mouth tipped into that crooked grin she’d always found so devastating. It was far more devastating when the cleft of his chin was almost connecting with her navel.
He rose to his knees to finish stripping off his shirt. He was so handsome, he almost gave her a heart attack. She’d glimpsed Ryan’s chest a couple of times, and earlier he’d drawn his shirt aside to show her the scar on his rib cage from the hay hook. But just seeing parts of him had in no way prepared her for the sight of Ryan Kendrick, naked from the waist up.
He was the epitome of masculine beauty, his arms, shoulders and chest burnished by the sun to a rich umber, every inch of him sculpted by hard physical labor. Until now, Bethany hadn’t believed there was a man alive as muscular as her brothers. Ryan definitely was. His slightest movement set off a chain reaction of ripples. She could have spent hours just admiring the view.
He tossed the shirt on the floor, his grin growing broader as he braced his hands on the mattress on either side of her and moved so his face was above hers again. His gaze twinkling, he glanced at her breasts. “If ever there was a doubt in my mind, I can now say with absolute certainty that I vastly prefer small breasts,” he whispered. “You are so beautiful, Bethany. I’m almost afraid to believe you’re really here with me.”
“Oh, Ryan, I feel the same way, like I’m having a wonderful dream.”
He lowered himself beside her, bracing his weight on one arm. He curled a large palm over her ribs and bent to nibble at her lips. While he kissed her deeply, he skimmed his hand down, tracing the curves and hollows of her body, his fingertips setting her skin afire.
She was lost to sensation again, the sound of every breath she drew a muffled rush against her eardrums. Her belly knotted with yearning, the need spiraling down to center low in her belly, where it seemed to radiate heat clear through her. Building … building until something inside of her ached and quivered with every pass of his fingertips.
“Ryan?”
“I’m here,” he assured her huskily.
His gaze resting on her face, he continued to caress her until she stretched and struggled to undulate her hips. Then he slid a hand down to her pelvis, where he pressed firmly with his palm and began a slow, circular rub that ignited her. She hiked her hips as best she could without the help of her legs, rising mindlessly against the press of his hand in a rhythm as old as man and womankind. Her breath quickened even more. Her heartbeat became a deafening thrum that made his whispery reassurances seem to come from a great distance. Not that she needed reassurance now. Ryan.
He moved his hand from her belly to the apex of her thighs. “Can you feel that, sweetheart?”
Bethany guessed that he was exploring the outer edges of her opening, which she’d already known was numb. The wonderful, dizzying heat of desire fell away, and her stomach knotted with anxiety. She stiffened. “I can’t feel anything there, Ryan.”
“Nothing?” he asked, his voice ringing with a disappointment so keen that it cut through her like a knife.
“No, nothing, I’m afraid.” Her lungs suddenly felt as if they were being compressed by a leaden weight. “Up higher. I have some sensation there.”
He touched her clitoris. As gentle as he was, Bethany jerked, startled by how supersensitive that place was. He rubbed the flange of flesh lightly with his thumb, and it felt as if her nerve endings were being abraded with sandpaper. She grabbed for his wrist.
“Oh, Ryan, don’t. That sort of—hurts.”
He lightened his touch, and when she still didn’t release his wrist, he cursed under his breath. “Damn my rough hands. That’s the problem.”
His hands had felt marvelous on her skin. Hard and sand-papery with calluses, yes, but wonderfully warm and strong. She didn’t think they were the problem. It felt more like her nerve endings down there had been damaged. They were so sensitive that even his lightest, most careful ministrations were uncomfortable. She didn’t like the feeling but clenched her teeth, determined to make this work. Seconds later, she was hating her traitorous body and wishing she could scream. Instead she willed herself to respond normally to him.
“Easy …,” he whispered, and bent his head back down to tease her nipple while his fingertips toyed lightly below. “Just relax, sweetheart. You’re so tense. When a woman’s tense, this never works. You need to forget everything and just focus on the feelings and on me.”
It was impossible for her to relax. The long awaited moment had arrived, and there was too much at stake. It seemed to her that everything was riding on her ability to enjoy this. Her whole future with this man, whom she had come to love so very much. If she failed him now—if she could feel nothing—she was afraid he might change his mind about marrying her. And who would blame him? No man wanted to spend his life with half a woman.
The next pass of his fingertips brought her shoulders off the mattress. She didn’t experience pain, exactly, but it was close enough. “Stop, Ryan. Please. That doesn’t feel right. I think the nerves there are damaged or something.” She felt his hesitation and rushed to add, “Maybe I have feeling farther up inside of me. Let’s just—you know—go ahead and see how it feels.”
He resumed kissing her breasts. Bethany knew he was trying to arouse her again, but she was so upset, she couldn’t get there again, no matter how desperately she tried.
She felt him tug off his pants and heard his boots hit the floor. The next instant, he rose over her, a dark blur of bronze and ebony. There was an odd crinkling sound, as if he were tearing open foil. Then she felt his hands grasping her hips, and she slid down the mattress slightly.
“I’ll try not to hurt you, Bethany mine. Just tell me if you feel any pain, and I’ll stop.”
She felt the coarse hair on his leg brush against her inner left thigh, and he fleetingly touched her clitoris again, which was now so tender she gasped.
She braced herself, knowi
ng that he was about to push in. Please, God, let me feel it when he enters me. Please, please, please … In that moment, she could think of nothing she’d ever wanted more. To feel, simply to feel. If God would grant her only that, she promised herself she’d never ask Him for anything else. For her, that would be everything.
She got an odd feeling—like pressure building way low inside of her. She blinked and brought Ryan’s dark face back into focus. His beautiful steely-blue eyes were filled with question.
“Sweetheart, is it hurting?”
Bethany knew then. It was like being slugged right in the center of her chest, a staggering blow that emptied her lungs and made her want to weep.
He was inside her—and she felt nothing but an odd sense of fullness.
Absolutely nothing.
Chapter Fifteen
Ryan held Bethany in his arms until she fell asleep, and then he sneaked from bed to go walking on the lakeshore, his heart breaking a little with every step he took. Please, God. The words became a litany, the same words over and over and over. She was so dear, and, oh, how she shined. She was like gentle spring sunshine, his Bethany. Or like a fairy glow of moonlight on water, he thought as he gazed across the lake. Her bright smile. The sparkle in her eyes. She had brought light into his life, making everything seem golden.
“Please, God,” he whispered as he reached his thinking spot on the knoll.
He sat beneath the overhanging pine boughs, finding no comfort tonight in the shadows that embraced him. When he gazed at the moon-silvered mountain peaks that loomed like specters over the forests that grew on the opposite lakeshore, all he could think about was Bethany. She’d been as eager for their lovemaking as he had been, responding so readily to every kiss and touch of his hands. She’d been shy at first, but she’d quickly set those feelings aside, giving herself to him so freely and completely, her trust in him glowing in her eyes. Then he had left her hanging.
He braced an elbow on his knee and cupped a hand over his face. He went to church almost every Sunday, and he considered himself to be a decent, God-fearing man, if not a pious and prayerful one. Countless times, he’d gone through the motions of prayer—kneeling, folding his hands, and bowing his head. But he realized now that all those times, he’d never really gone to his knees.
He was on his knees now. He loved that girl so very much. He would have done anything to make her happy. But for all of that, he couldn’t give her the one simple thing she needed most, satisfaction in his arms.
Making love to her had been the most wonderful, fulfilling experience he’d ever had, making him feel complete in a way he couldn’t begin to express. He’d taken so much, so very much, and in return, he’d been able to give her nothing. Nothing.
He’d felt the tension in her body afterward—the kind of tension that told a man he’d failed to bring a woman to completion. If I can’t feel anything, I think I’ll die. Oh, she’d tried to hide her disappointment, hugging him and burrowing her cheek against his shoulder, saying how lovely it had been. But he’d known, and he’d wanted to weep.
Now he was alone. If he cried, that would be his secret.
The tears felt like acid in his eyes. A sob built pressure in his chest until he couldn’t breathe. That look in her eyes—oh, God—he doubted he’d ever forget it. Shock, disappointment, and then a terrible despair he hadn’t been able to dispel.
His shoulders jerked, and the next instant, he was sobbing. Please, God. There in the darkness, Ryan cried like a child for the girl he’d left sleeping in his bed, and he prayed for a miracle, knowing in his heart that if God didn’t make this right somehow, he might very well lose her.
The following morning Bethany lectured herself in the bathroom mirror. Time to count her blessings, and they were many. She was in love with the most fantastic man on earth, and he loved her back. That was an incredible blessing. And making love with him last night had been the most beautiful, indescribable experience of her whole life, all of it perfect and wonderful, right up until the last.
What more did she want? She’d enjoyed all of the touching and kissing. That was so much more than she had ever hoped to have. She would be foolish to let the wonder of that be tarnished by her inability to feel the last part.
No way. She would wear a bright smile, and she’d be grateful that God had chosen to give her this much. It was enough. It was. If she could grow old in Ryan’s arms, she would count herself the luckiest woman alive, and she would not let herself wish for more or feel sorry for herself because there wasn’t more.
When she reached the kitchen, he was at the table, nursing a mug of coffee. He pushed another mug toward her and smiled, his eyes lackluster as his gaze moved slowly over her. “Good morning, sunshine.”
“Good morning!” she said brightly, which was totally uncharacteristic of her. She glanced out the window. “And it is a gorgeous one. Spring may come late in this country, but there’s nothing more wonderful once it arrives.”
Ryan rubbed his forehead. “Sweetheart, you don’t have to do this.”
Bethany’s face felt so stiff that her smile hurt. “Do what?”
He kept his gaze fixed on his coffee. “Pretend everything’s wonderful. I know you’re upset—that it wasn’t good for you last night, and I’m sorry it wasn’t. We can work on it—make it better.” He shrugged and flicked her a sad, hangdog look. “I’m sorry I didn’t make it happen for you.”
She felt as if two fists were twisting her heart in half, and an awful, frightened feeling tied her stomach into knots. Ryan might settle for less than perfect for himself, but it would eat at him like a cancer if he thought it was less than perfect for her.
Bethany didn’t generally lie, and she found it particularly distasteful to think about lying to Ryan. But in this particular instance, she wondered if being completely honest wouldn’t do more harm than good. Maybe she was lacking in practical experience, but she wasn’t naive. Caring individuals, be they male or female, needed to know that their lovers truly enjoyed being intimate with them. Bethany couldn’t imagine how awful she might be feeling right now if the tables had been turned—if it had been Ryan who hadn’t found satisfaction in her arms last night instead of the other way around.
The twisting pain in her chest grew more acute, making it difficult for her to breathe. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing him. Not now. Not after being with him. Before, as painful as it might have been, she could have turned away for his sake. But now she knew how much she’d be missing. So she hadn’t achieved a climax. The rest had been so wonderful—so absolutely perfect. She couldn’t go back to the empty existence she’d had before—to a life without Ryan. Oh, God, she just couldn’t.
Not allowing herself to think about the right and wrong of it, Bethany made a snap decision. She’d lie. Before she was with him that way a second time, she’d watch When Harry Met Sally again and practice faking an orgasm until she could do it so convincingly that Ryan would never guess it was an act. He’d never look at her like this again, with his heart aching in his eyes. Never. She’d be the best lover he’d ever had, damn it. The very best. Last night, she’d been so caught up in her own pleasure, so overwhelmed by all the incredible sensations she’d never hoped to feel, that she’d given little thought to the things she might do to give him pleasure.
No more. She was no expert on sex, but what she didn’t know, she could find out, even if it meant going to a sexual therapist and getting some how-to literature. She’d learn what turned men on, all the little tricks that drove them crazy in bed. No holds barred. Anything. She’d do anything to keep from losing him.
“Ryan, how can you say it wasn’t good for me? That simply isn’t so. It was wonderful for me.”
He slumped back in his chair and met her gaze. “Sweetheart, let’s not go there. All right? Honesty is our ace in the hole. Talking about it openly and working together to find a solution is our only hope. We’ll find a way. I promise you. Somehow. It just may take some time.” He w
inked and flashed her a grin that lacked its usual brilliance. “You know what they say. Practice makes perfect.”
Bethany felt bile rise up her throat. As long as he felt guilty because she wasn’t enjoying it at the end, it would spoil it for him. All along, her greatest fear had been that she wouldn’t be able to give him pleasure. Now she knew she could. That, in and of itself, was a miracle. How it had been for her simply didn’t matter, not in the overall scheme of things.
“Ryan, look at me.” When he met her gaze again, she said, “It was fantastic for me, the most wondrous experience of my life.” That much wasn’t a lie. “It’s true that I didn’t feel anything at first. But I did later.” She thought fast. “When you moved a little deeper, I felt you. What an incredible feeling it was.”
Hope came into his eyes. “You did?”
“Oh, yes.” She hugged her waist, praying he wouldn’t notice how her hands were shaking. “I love you so much, Ryan. Being with you that way, it was so beautiful. And I’m so excited because I felt something, there at the end. I’m sure if we’d just kept going a few minutes more, it would have been fabulous.”
“Deeper,” he repeated. “You felt it when I went deeper? Bethany, that’s wonderful.” He sat straighter and shifted to face her. “How did it feel?”
Oh, God. She had no idea what a woman felt when a man entered her. She thought of the sensations when he’d kissed her breasts and grabbed for words. “An electrical, tingling feeling.” She pressed a palm to her stomach. “Way deep, right here. It’s hard to describe.”
He laughed softly, and a joyous look came into his eyes. “That’ll do.” He came off his chair and went down on one knee beside her. After wrapping her in his arms, he buried his face against her hair and held her tightly for a moment. “That’ll do, sweetheart,” he said huskily. “I can work with that, and we’ll get there.”
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