Free Love at First Bite by Susan Squires

to his loins. "And whatever happened before, you need a woman who loves you and wants to give herself to you." He turned, tentatively. She smiled. "I think I fill the bill."
    Sweet, giving Emma. Her generous nature, her courage touched him deeply. He couldn't let her think he didn't want to make love to her. "Oh, God, Emma! I want you, like… like I've never wanted anything or anyone before."
    "Then take me, because I want you just that much in return." Her voice was calm, though he could see her heart pounding in her throat. The dam inside him burst. He couldn't resist her. But he could resist the thing in his blood. He'd make sweet love to Emma and give her something of a wedding night, in case he was dead tomorrow, and she a grieving widow.
    He swept Emma up as though she weighed nothing and carried her into the bedroom. The feel of his hard chest against her breasts made her shudder. At last! Whatever had happened to him in the past, she knew she could heal with time.
    "I'll keep control, Emma; I promise," he said as he laid her across the bed and began to strip off his shirt. It was dim in this small room. Only the light from the lamps in the sitting room cast a glow through the doorway. His pale, muscled torso and shoulders made her suck in breath. His chest was covered with curling light hair. His nipples looked soft She licked her lips and thought what it would be like to kiss them. He sat beside her, pulled off his boots, and began unbuttoning his trousers. Then he stopped, swallowed once, and ducked his head. "I'm sorry. This shouldn't be a rushed affair."
    "Then you'll help me undress?" His trousers, partially unbuttoned, gaped over his belly, only just concealing what she wanted most to see. She swallowed.
    He did help her undress. He took the pins from her dress one by one as though it was a precious ritual and untied the skirt, unlaced her light corset, pulled off the sleeves until she was standing in her chemise. Her nipples, turned suddenly sensitive, pressed against the fine linen fabric. She felt so vulnerable, unlaced in front of him. She sat and unrolled her stockings herself, as she glanced under her lashes to see him taking off his trousers and smalls with far less ceremony. He turned from her, but not before she had seen his erect member rising out of a nest of hair a shade darker than the blond on his head. It was so much larger than the statues she had seen. Well, that was rather… intriguing. Could all that fit inside her? She wanted to touch it, examine it. And that thought, in turn, made the throbbing between her legs turn… wet.
    She let her gaze rove over his tight buttocks, strong thighs, the muscles moving in his back as he folded his trousers. His shoulders were wide—wait, what were those marks? She peered at him in the dim light. Scars. Deep furrows where wounds had healed without benefit of stitches.
    All his talk of being hurt became real. Someone had hurt him terribly, purposefully, once. Could he mean a woman did these things to him? All Emma could think about was that she wanted to take that hurt away. She wasn't experienced in love-making, had never even seen a man in the state he was in now. But she was a rebel, wasn't she? She would cast aside maidenly shrinking from the act and try to give him pleasure, show him that love could be generous and sweet…
    Davie turned away, ashamed at the throbbing erection that must shock her. Lord knows he'd had erections so frequently in the last week he should be used to it. But the thought of making love to Emma had induced a need that was almost painful in its intensity. He'd had those kinds of erections only with… her, but never of his own volition. He wouldn't think of that.
    He was having trouble thinking at all. He shouldn't make love to Emma. It was his duty to restrain himself. She shouldn't give up her virginity. He couldn't marry her when he would be dead in a matter of days one way or another. He should send her home.
    How? The