Ready for Marriage?. Anne Marie Winston
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sweater and laying his mouth on her collarbone.
Kristin’s head fell back and her eyes closed as her body slackened in his arms. Her hands moved to clasp his shoulders as he nibbled her neck and pressed light kisses up the line of her jaw until his mouth hovered over hers. ‘‘Kiss me, Kris,’’ he breathed.
He shifted his supporting arm higher to bring her head up, delighting in the willing way she lifted her mouth to his. Her lips were soft and sweet and he leisurely explored their shape for long moments before flicking his tongue across the seam of her lips. When she opened her mouth, he moved inside immediately, his tongue tangling with hers in hot, slick pleasure. As they kissed, her lithe body twisted in his arms, pressing against the growing arousal that pushed at his pants, making him all too aware that it would only take a few smooth moves to have his pants unzipped and her astride his lap.
He shuddered. ‘‘I probably shouldn’t be doing this,’’ he said. But he couldn’t resist sliding one hand over the enticing swell of her hip. He smoothed a path down her upper leg to where the short skirt stopped and uttered a silent alleluia at the feel of her soft bare thigh beneath his palm.
She placed her hands flat against his chest, palms side by side. ‘‘You can,’’ she whispered, ‘‘if you want to.’’
‘‘Oh, I want to,’’ he said, hearing his own voice come out a deep, rough growl, ‘‘but I don’t want to rush you. We can wait until we’re married.’’ A small, ignoble part of him sat up and shouted No, no, no! but he disregarded it. He was telling the truth; he didn’t want her to regret anything about their first time together. Still, it was all he could do to prevent himself from twisting his torso back and forth beneath the warm pressure of her small hands.
‘‘You’re not rushing me,’’ she said obliquely. She wouldn’t meet his eyes but kept them fixed on her hands. A surprising tenderness surged through him as he realized she was feeling shy. She was shy!
Of all the things he associated with self-possessed, confident Kristin Gordon, shy probably wasn’t anywhere near the top of the list. And yet…she was looking to him to take the lead.
Another realization swept over him. Kristin might be self-assured and smart as a whip about most things, but in this arena, he was definitely the more experienced of the two of them. Experienced…experience. Carefully, not wanting to spoil the moment, he said, ‘‘Kris? I, ah, don’t quite know how to ask you this, but—’’
‘‘I’m not a virgin.’’ Her voice was still soft, her eyes still averted.
He couldn’t define the emotions that rushed through him at that one small sentence. Relief, maybe a little. He and Deb had both been virgins their first time together and it hadn’t been a stellar experience for either of them. He’d been fast; she’d been slow. He knew he’d hurt her, but had been so overwhelmed by basic adolescent lust that he’d had no hope of making it good for her, and he’d felt terribly guilty.
Another emotion overshadowed his momentary recall. It seemed almost like…like jealousy. He tried to tell himself it was fatherly outrage, but that didn’t wash.
‘‘Who?’’ he managed. ‘‘When…?’’ The thought of some other man touching her intimately made him see red.
‘‘It was a long time ago,’’ she said softly. ‘‘My second year in college. And not something I was inspired to repeat.’’
Tenderness swept through him, washing all other feelings away. ‘‘Let me inspire you then,’’ he said. He lifted her from his lap and stood, then bent and swung her into his arms. She was easy to carry, although she struggled wildly for a moment before clutching him around the neck. ‘‘Derek! What are you doing?’’
‘‘Taking you to bed,’’ he told her, striding from the room. ‘‘We’re going to do this right.’’
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