Free Marrying Winterborne by Lisa Kleypas Page A

to toy with the pink folds and frills, grazing a place so exquisitely tender that her entire body jerked.
    â€œDoes this hurt, cariad ?”
    â€œNo, but . . .” There seemed no way to make him understand an upbringing in which certain areas of the body were too shameful to be acknowledged, let alone touched, except for purposes of washing. One of many rules instilled by a stout nanny who had been fond of smacking naughty children’s palms with a ruler until they were red and sore. Such lessons could never be entirely unlearned. “That’s . . . a shameful place,” she finally said breathlessly.
    His reply was immediate. “No, it isn’t.”
    â€œIt is.” When he shook his head, she insisted, “I was taught that it most definitely is .”
    Rhys looked sardonic. “By the same person who told you that babies are found under gooseberry bushes?”
    Forced to concede the point, Helen fell into a dignified silence. Or at least as dignified as she could manage in the circumstances.
    â€œMany people are ashamed of their own desires,” he said. “I’m not one of them. Nor do I want you to be.” Lightly resting his palm on the center of her chest, he drew it slowly down her body. “You were made for pleasure, cariad . No part of you is shameful.” He seemed not to notice the way she stiffened as his hand drifted down between her thighs. “Especially not this sweet place . . . ah, you’re so pretty here. Like one of your orchids.”
    â€œ What? ” she asked faintly, wondering if he were mocking her. “No.”
    â€œYou’re shaped like petals.” One of his fingertips traced her outer folds. Resisting her desperate tugs at his wrist, he spread her open. Gently he took a rosy inner flange between his thumb and forefinger and rubbed with the softest possible pressure. “And these. Sepals . . . aye?”
    It was then that Helen understood what he meant, the accuracy of the comparison. She went crimson all over. If it were possible to faint from embarrassment, she would have.
    A smile flickered across his lips. “How can you not have noticed?”
    â€œI’ve never looked down there before!”
    Absorbed in every minute variation of her expression, he swirled his fingertip up to the crest of her sex. Gently his thumb pressed the hood back, while he tickled around the little bud. “Tell me the word for this. The tip inside the blossom.”
    Writhing in his hold, she gasped, “Anther.” Something was happening to her. Fire was creeping up the backs of her legs and gathering in her stomach, every sensation feeding into a pool of heat.
    His finger slipped inside her again, where it had become deep and liquid. What was it? What—her body closed on the invasion, pulling at him in a way she couldn’t control. He brushed silken kisses over her mouth, catching at her lips as if he were sipping from a fragile cup. The tip of his thumb found the sensitive peak. Electric tension spread through her in widening ripples, an alarming wave of feeling approaching . . . too strong . . . almost like pain. Sliding out from beneath him with a low cry, she rolled to her stomach, suffocating on her own heartbeat.
    Instantly she felt Rhys at her back, his soothing hands running over her trembling limbs.
    His voice was at her ear, velvety with amused chiding. “ Cariad , you’re not supposed to pull away. It won’t hurt. I promise. Turn over.”
    Helen didn’t move, stunned by the anguished rush of pleasure that had begun to overwhelm her. It had nearly stopped her heart.
    Pushing aside the tangled disorder of her hair, Rhys kissed the nape of her neck. “Is this the kind of wife you’ll be? It’s too soon for you to begin disobeying me.”
    Her lips felt swollen as she managed to reply. “We’re not married yet.”
    â€œNo, and we won’t be until I manage to compromise