Chapter Seventeen

They stood together, their arms wrapped around each other, a silent island of misery.

Alejandro’s comforting presence gave Angelina the courage to survey the hurricane damage to her factory. Without him and the love they’d found, she didn’t know if she could have faced it.

The thatched roof of the factory had been completely torn off and scattered to the four winds; pieces of it lay strewn over her lot and Frances Street. The upright poles still stood, like naked trees, deeply embedded in crushed rock. The wooden planked floor remained, though warped and damaged by rain. The brick storehouse and office had survived, but their wooden shingle roofs were half torn away, exposing gaping holes and a jumble of raw beams. And the perimeter fence had been uprooted, leaving a tangled skein of wire and posts.

“Come.” He took her hand. “Let’s check the office and storeroom.”

Numbly, she nodded and followed him.

When they peered inside the storeroom, Angelina’s heart plummeted. Bins of tobacco leaves, fillers and wrappers had been overturned by the wind. Their contents lay strewn in haphazard piles or mixed with puddles of water, covering the floor in what looked like a slimy mass of greenish-brown vomit.

The contents of the office had scarcely fared any better. Benches, gauges, and tools had been tossed about, as if by a giant’s careless play. And when she looked over the confused heap of implements, it was difficult to assess the damage.

Everything or almost everything was ruined. Everything she’d worked so hard for, risked so much for. Her factory had been in operation for only one short week. She’d gotten off one shipment, but the proceeds wouldn’t even cover her workers’ wages. All her money was gone. She had nothing left to rebuild with. Her dream had died.

She was devastated and sick at heart. She felt empty and a failure, even if it wasn’t her fault. All she knew to do was cling to Alejandro, gripping his hand too tightly.

In silent understanding, his arms came around her. She was grateful for his solace, and she buried her head against his broad chest. Sobs rose to her throat, burning for release. This time, she didn’t hold back. Gasping in anguish, she poured out her misery onto his shirt, thoroughly wetting it.

When she couldn’t cry anymore, he gently cupped her chin and lifted her head. His gaze was filled with love and compassion. Realizing he shared her misery, her tears boiled up again, threatening to spill.

He fished a crumpled handkerchief from his pocket and tenderly dabbed at her swollen eyes. Then he offered it, and she accepted, taking the sodden cloth and blowing her nose. After she’d finished, he kissed the tip of her nose and enfolded her in his arms again.

“It’s gone, Alejandro, all gone,” she whispered, laying her head against his shoulder.

“We’ll rebuild it.”

“But I haven’t any money. You know that.”

“Not you, Angelina, us. There is no more you or I, only us.”

She lifted her head and gazed at him. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve offered before, but you were too stubborn to accept.” He smiled. “I’ve money saved. We’ll use it to rebuild.”

“But that money was for the business you wanted to start.”

He raised his index finger and pressed it against her lips. He shook his head.

She understood then and repeated, “There is no more you or I, only us.”

He nodded. “I don’t care about the business I wanted to start. Not now. Not now that I have you. That business was to keep me from being lonely,” he confessed. “To keep me busy so I didn’t have time to think.”

“Oh, but Alejandro, how can I ever repay you? For all that you’ve done for me?”

His gaze lingered on her lips and his mouth quirked into a wicked smile. “With your love and…other ways I can think of.”

He lowered his head, and his mouth found hers. Clinging to him, she realized his kiss promised more than just passion. His kiss promised tenderness, caring, and commitment. Two lives to be shared as one.

****

Destiny raced through the devastated streets, skirting crumpled heaps of rubbish and ignoring the destruction around her. Having survived the hurricane, cowering alongside Gramps, Tilly, and Rufus in a brick alcove behind the cook stove, her thoughts had turned to the other two people she cared about, Nathan and Angelina.

Despite her grandfather’s disapproval and warning, she’d set out as soon as the storm abated to find them. She couldn’t rest until she knew they were safe.

She went first to the rented house Angelina shared with her new husband and was surprised to find the damage to her friend’s home was minimal. Sections of the shingle roof had blown away, window shutters were missing, and the front porch had collapsed.

Her home had suffered far worse. Most of the roof and the entire widow walk had been blown away. She wouldn’t miss the widow walk—it held too many painful memories.

After pounding on Angelina’s door for several minutes and receiving no response, she’d been concerned. Then she thought of her friend’s factory. Angelina would be there.

She ran the few blocks to Frances Street and glimpsed the ruined structure of the factory. Her heart sank, thinking how much Angelina had sacrificed for her factory. Destiny slowed to a walk, and she saw two figures silhouetted against the devastation. Locked in each other other’s arms, Angelina and Alejandro stood among the wreckage, kissing.

Her heart did a funny flip-flop in her chest, and her eyes filled with tears. She stopped and hugged herself, grateful they’d survived the awful storm and found solace in each other.

Not wanting to intrude and knowing they were safe, she retraced her steps to Eaton Street and headed toward the wharf. If Nathan was in Key West, his cutter would be docked there. If his ship had been out when the storm hit… Her stomach clenched at the terrible thought.

Please, dear God, let Nathan be safe.

It had taken a hurricane to bring her to her senses.

Wrapped in misery over what James had done and what her grandfather had revealed, she’d spent the last two weeks locked in her room, crying and feeling sorry for herself. She’d been a coward, and Angelina would have heartily disapproved of her self-indulgence.

In a strange way, though, her self-imposed withdrawal and suffering had served as a necessary catharsis, a time to sort out her feelings. To clear away the past and consider the future.

Unfortunately, she had no future. All her plans had centered on James Whitman, marrying him, and finding her rightful place in Key West society. But that had been a wishful, childish dream, a mirage without substance.

And she wanted her life to have substance. Having known Angelina and her friend’s ambition had changed her. Angelina had a purpose, a goal. She wanted the same thing for herself.

After much soul searching, she’d decided to return to Miss Prentiss’ finishing school and complete her education. With a proper education, she could teach. Because of the key’s remote location, there were never enough teachers in Key West. By becoming a teacher, she would earn her rightful place in the community that had shunned her.

Her decision wasn’t just another selfish dream. She’d always loved children. Being an only child with no parents, she’d dreamed of having a dozen children of her own. Now that dream was gone. But if she could educate the generations of children to come on the Key; she would have found a useful vocation.

Even more, if she could reach one child who needed her, as she’d needed someone when her parents died, she would consider herself a success. And she wanted that success to give her life purpose, as much as Angelina wanted her factory to prosper.

Then there was Nathan.

In her soul searching, she’d tried to avoid thinking about him. Not that he’d been far from her thoughts. Just that she wasn’t worthy of him. He was mature and kind and thoughtful and brave. All the qualities she wished she possessed.

When the hurricane swept Key West, she’d thought a great deal about him, worrying that he was at sea and caught by the storm. If something happened to him, she would somehow feel responsible. Rationally, she knew that was ridiculous. But the feeling stuck nonetheless.

She turned down Front Street, and the wharves loomed ahead. A scene of devastation greeted her. Most of the wooden shanty offices were piles of lumber now. She wondered if Alejandro’s office had been struck down, but she didn’t have time to investigate. Her focus was on the ships.

Crowded cheek-to-jowl, ships of all sizes had sought refuge in the harbor to weather the storm. And the force of the wind had thrust some of them forward, their bows tearing into the wharves and embedding the ships, like netted fish, in the splintered remains of the docks. Those were the worst.

The remaining ships had sustained varying degrees of damage. Most had lost their rigging, leaving a raw forest of broken masts and shredded sails. Anchors had been torn away, hatches stove in, railings split, and portholes shattered. Splintered boards and tangled ropes covered the ships’ decks and what was left of the wharf. It would take weeks to sort out the wreckage.

Her grandfather had gone to check on his schooner, anchored in a cove off the southern tip of the Key. She hoped his ship hadn’t suffered too much damage. But right now, she was more concerned about Nathan.

Dodging debris and avoiding frenzied sailors and dock hands, she rushed to and fro trying to sort through the ships, searching for the Columbia. But with each step she took, her heart clenched tighter, beating erratically in her chest. If the revenue cutter wasn’t in port, she didn’t know what she would do. Wringing her hands and muttering to herself, she kept going, running from ship to ship.

When she’d almost reached the end of the harbor, she spied the familiar outline of the cutter. Both masts had been sheared off, and like the other ships, its deck was covered with a litter of debris. She expected to see its crew scurrying about, clearing away the wreckage, but the ship appeared strangely forlorn and lifeless.

What could have happened? Where was everyone? Then she saw him.

A lone figure toiled at the stern, bent over, naked to the waist. The sun glinted on the raised blade of an axe. He swung the axe down, striking wood with a crack like the shot from a revolver. Nathan appeared to be clearing the ship himself. At least, he was cutting away at one of the felled masts.

Relieved to see him alive and well, she exhaled and stopped. Her heart soared, and a huge weight lifted from her shoulders. She thanked God for his deliverance.

She watched him labor over the broken mast, chopping the massive timber into manageable sections, and a sense of shyness overtook her. She hung back in the shadows and debated whether to approach him or not. After all, as with Angelina, she’d accomplished her goal, to assure herself he’d survived the storm. There was no need to interrupt his work.

But she couldn’t take her eyes off him. She’d never seen his naked chest before. Gazing upon his broad shoulders and the bunch and coil of his muscular arms, she longed to reach out and touch him. She wanted to explore the ridges of his muscles, to trace the lines of sinew and swelling veins. The desire was so palpable, so real, she could almost taste it.

Closing her eyes, she remembered the smell of him, the masculine, salty essence intermingled with the bay rum he wore. She remembered the warm, moist touch of his lips on hers, the grip of his strong fingers at her waist, and the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed.

She almost wished he hadn’t shaved his beard for her. It was an integral part of him—a symbol of his commitment to the sea.

“Destiny, is that you?” The deep baritone of his voice reached her.

She opened her eyes, realizing she’d hesitated too long. He must have seen her, cowering in the shadows. Opening her mouth, she wanted to reply but her throat closed.

What must he think of her? Coming to the wharf to seek him out when she’d spurned his love before?

She didn’t want him to know that she cared. After what had happened with James, if she sought Nathan out, it would seem as if he were her second choice. She didn’t want him to think that.

Because it wasn’t true.

If she hadn’t been so wrapped up in childish dreams and selfish fantasies, she would have recognized the truth long before. She would have understood why Nathan’s kisses thrilled her and James’ repelled her. Instead, she’d clung fiercely to her old dreams, ignoring her growing feelings for Nathan—ignoring and discarding them, throwing her one chance at happiness away with both hands.

If only she’d known about her parents and understood what had happened. Maybe she could have overcome the past and embraced the future with her eyes wide open. She wished her grandfather had told her sooner, but she couldn’t blame him, either. He’d done what he thought was best, protecting her from the gossip and pain. Holding on to her love the only way he knew and afraid to admit the part he’d played in her parents’ tragedy. Afraid to lose her love if he told her the whole truth.

She shook her head. Gramps should have trusted her more, should have known she would forgive him, just as she had forgiven him that fateful evening on the widow walk. But he hadn’t known how she’d react. She hadn’t known herself until she’d faced the truth and grown up.

Sighing, she realized she had no one to blame but herself. Sheltered and cosseted by her grandfather and Tilly, she’d grown into a singularly frivolous and self-centered young lady. Her friendship with Angelina had taught her that.

But no more. Now she had a worthy mission in life, a blueprint for her future. Something she could call her own and be proud of.

And as much as she’d grown to realize she loved Nathan, she wouldn’t use him, as she’d used James, to give her life purpose. He must never know she cared because it would look as though she’d turned to him, only after James had let her down. She couldn’t do that to Nathan, make him feel second rate. He was too good a man.

She heard the heavy tread of boots on the wharf. Lifting her head, she realized she’d been woolgathering. Busy mourning her foolish actions and grieving over all she’d lost. Glancing up, she found Nathan looming over her.

His features were drawn. New lines were etched in his handsome face. His eyes were smudged with exhaustion. Now he looked his age. Before, he’d looked almost too young to command a Navy revenue cutter. He sported dark brown stubble on his chin, and she wondered if he was growing his beard back. He should. He should be his own man.

He halted a foot away and lifted his arms as if he were going to embrace her. Then a dark shadow flickered in his hazel eyes, and he stopped himself, dropping his arms to his sides.

“Destiny, why didn’t you answer? When I saw you, I called down. Didn’t you hear me?”

She started to shake her head and deny having heard him. But she stopped herself. There would be no more lies between them, not even small evasions. She owed him that much.

“I…I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know if you wanted to see me. I only came to make certain you were all right and your ship weathered the storm. I didn’t mean to stay.”

“I see.” He rocked back on his heels. He inclined his head toward the ship. “The Columbia survived, as you can see. She’s damaged no more than most. We were fortunate.”

“And yourself?” she asked politely, already knowing the answer.

He hadn’t bothered to don a shirt. His naked chest gleamed with perspiration, and he was the very picture of robust health. She tried to keep her gaze on his face, but it was difficult. Her eyes were drawn to the muscled expanse of his bare torso.

“Not a scratch.” Shrugging, he stroked his stubbled chin. “Though I’m hardly presentable.” He glanced down. “Forgive me for appearing this way, but my shirt is in the cabin. I was afraid I wouldn’t catch you if I went to fetch it.”

It was her turn to shrug, making light of his lack. “I’m the one intruding, Nathan. You’re working to clear your ship. I don’t expect you to be attired to receive visitors.”

He smiled then. A real smile that lit his eyes and crinkled the corners. His smile made her recall all the good times they’d shared—at the ball and the picnic, even their madcap ride over the beach. Realizing how much she’d missed his smile and how much more she would miss it in the days to come, she was awash with regret.

“Where’s your crew? Shouldn’t they be helping you?”

“They will return later. The ship can wait. I sent them ashore with the mayor’s party to help in town. They’re all strong and disciplined lads. I’m certain they’ll find plenty to do. But someone had to stay with the ship. I’m doing what I can in the meantime.”

How kind and generous of him to think of the town and its inhabitants first. And how like the Nathan she knew. Tears stung the backs of her eyelids, and she lowered her head. She must stop; she was fast becoming downright maudlin.

“That was kind of you.” Swaying on her feet, she wanted to run and hide. To nurse her regrets in private. She’d had no idea the effect he would have on her.

“Here.” He reached out and grasped her elbow, steadying her. “You’ve been through the storm, too. And you look a bit peaked. Come to my cabin and have a cup of tea and some biscuits.”

His touch arced through her, skittering along her nerves and making her heart pound. Gooseflesh rose on her arms.

“Oh, I shouldn’t. I should—”

“Is your grandfather all right?”

“Yes, Gramps is fine. He went to check on his schooner. It’s moored off the southern tip of the Key.”

He nodded. “Trust your grandfather to find the best place for his ship to ride out the storm. He’s the finest seaman I’ve ever known.”

“What do you mean?”

“The hurricane winds came from the northeast. I wish I had seen it coming and taken the Columbia south. Might have saved the masts.” He squeezed her elbow.”If your grandfather is all right, then you’ve time for tea. How are your servants and your home?”

“Tilly and Rufus weren’t hurt, either. We stayed in a brick alcove behind the cook stove where we store firewood. The house was damaged, but it’s still standing. We’ll need a new roof, though.”

“And your friend, Angelina?”

“Angelina and Alejandro survived, and their rent house didn’t have much damage. But her factory is ruined. I saw them but didn’t stop to talk.” She lifted her head and admitted, “I was in too much of a hurry to get here.”

He met her gaze squarely and cleared his throat. And for the first time since they’d faced each other, he looked uncomfortable. “Then we’ve both been very fortunate.”

“Yes.”

She hadn’t personally lived through a hurricane before, but she’d heard enough of the old stories to know that when things were sorted out, there would be considerable loss of life as well as property damage in Key West.

“Come,” he urged. “Let’s get that tea, and I’ll get my shirt.”

Nodding, she didn’t protest this time.

Heaven help her, but she wanted to spend time with him, even though she knew she shouldn’t. But she surrendered anyway and let him guide her to the gangplank.

****

Glancing at Destiny, demurely seated in his cabin with her hands folded in her lap, it was hard for Nathan to believe his eyes, to believe she was really here. How many times had he dreamed this dream, only to awaken to the awful reality and the bone-chilling loneliness?

He closed his eyes for a moment and opened them again. She was really here—it wasn’t a dream. And she’d sought him out because she was concerned about him. Knowing she cared, warmed him. And in some strange way, it frightened him, too, making his heart pound and his hands perspire.

He’d used all his self-control to remain aboard ship and not seek her after the storm. He’d feared the worst but didn’t know how she would receive him. He’d set himself to the hardest task he knew to stop his racing thoughts, breaking up the mainmasts.

The setting sun slanted through the porthole, transforming her hair into a bright flame. Her milk-punch complexion shimmered, tempting him, looking good enough to taste. He wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and never let her go.

She lifted her head and gave him a small, tight smile. Even that shy gesture couldn’t mask the generous curve of her lips. And her blue-green eyes glowed with a brilliant luminosity, like the waters of his beloved Caribbean.

Placing the tray on the table, he began to unload its contents, the steaming teakettle, a jar of tea leaves, a tin of sugared biscuits, cream and sugar, mugs, napkins, and spoons. Before he could finish, she joined in, helping him. Their fingers brushed accidentally, striking sparks and sending a current of electricity leaping between them.

He clenched his jaw and held himself in check, hiding his reaction.

But Destiny didn’t hide; she recoiled and looked flustered. Dropping her hands to her lap again, she allowed him to spoon the tea leaves into the mugs and add boiling water.

She’d felt it, too, hadn’t she? And that was why she’d retreated to cover her reaction. Or did his touch repulse her so that she couldn’t stand it? Pushing his doubts aside, he concentrated on the moment at hand. She had come to him of her own volition and accepted his offer to have tea. That was all that mattered.

“Cream and sugar?” he asked.

“Both, please.”

“One lump or two?”

Two, please.”

He poured a dollop of cream into her mug and added two lumps of sugar. Handing the mug and a spoon to her, he was careful to avoid touching her hand. Then he took his own mug and cradled it in his hand, waiting for it to cool.

She glanced at him. “You don’t take cream or sugar?”

“No, just plain tea.” He offered the tin of biscuits. “Here, take one or two. I doubt you’ve had time to eat, hiding behind a cook stove and riding out a hurricane.”

“You’re right. I haven’t eaten since supper last night. A biscuit would be good.” She put her mug on the table and took one biscuit from the tin. She bit into it. “This is delicious. I didn’t know how hungry I was.”

“Glad you like them.” He took a sip of his tea.

She lowered her head again and nibbled on the biscuit.

The silence stretched awkwardly between them, vibrating with unspoken words, teeming with unresolved emotions.

She half lifted her head and smiled again. That tight grimace of a smile. He hated it. This wasn’t the Destiny he knew and loved. He’d never seen her so quiet and withdrawn. He missed her bubbling exuberance, her childlike enthusiasm. He wanted to hear her laugh out loud and chatter like a magpie.

“What’s this, Nathan?” She broke the painful silence. Her long, slender fingers traced the outlines of a map lying open on the table.

Sucking in his breath, he cursed his carelessness. The map detailed the covert operation he and Alejandro planned. Destiny was intelligent—too intelligent, and because of her seafaring grandfather, well informed about Alligator Reef. He didn’t want her asking questions and becoming involved.

He snatched up the map and rolled it quickly. He hated lying to her but it was for her own protection. “There’s to be a new lighthouse at Alligator Reef.”

She must have sensed his uneasiness because she said, “Oh, I’m sorry I asked. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s all right, Destiny.”

But his response did little to reassure her. She sat stiffer than before, almost as if she were one of his sailors, sitting at attention. And she gulped her tea quickly before it had time to cool.

Rising, she said, “Thank you for the tea and biscuits. I feel much better now. It’s growing late. I should be getting home.”

He rose, too. She was about to walk out of his life again with nothing settled between them. He couldn’t allow that to happen. He loved her too much.

“What do you plan on doing?” he asked.

Her eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

“Now that you’re unattached, I wondered…”

Her cheeks flamed crimson, and she averted her eyes. “So, you know.” She sighed and her shoulders drooped. “I’m not surprised. I guessed you would find out.”

“Key West is a small town,” he offered by way of explanation.

Inside, his soul twisted in torment for her. Embarrassed by her shame, he despised himself for reminding her. But how could they move forward if they didn’t put the past to rest? And he wanted to move forward. Wanted her to forget the past and learn to love him.

Lifting her chin, she faced him. “What are they saying?”

“That you’ve ended your alliance with Whitman.”

“Only that?”

“Yes.”

She breathed a sigh of relief, and he wondered what Whitman had done to her. Half of him wanted to call Whitman out and make him pay for hurting her. The other half abhorred the idea of a duel. Selfishly, he wanted to live so he could spend his days…and nights loving her.

“Nathan, the last thing I want is your pity.” Her voice was a harsh whisper. “I must go.” She gathered her skirts, brushing past him.

But he couldn’t let her go. Not again. She’d sought him out. She must feel something. And he was crazy with wanting her, with needing her.

He grabbed her shoulders and lowered his mouth to hers. At first, she stood perfectly still like a marble statute in his arms. But her rigidity didn’t discourage him; it only served as a spur to goad him.

With all the yearning bottled up in his heart, he worshipped her mouth. Fitting his mouth to the contours of her lips, he savored each touch of her flesh against his. Slowly, she melted into his embrace. Her arms came up and encircled his neck. And she responded to his kisses, opening herself to him.

Tentatively, he touched his tongue to hers, something he’d never initiated before. Fire leapt between them, hot and wild, scorching his soul. Their tongues circled, tasting and mating. Long-pent-up cravings poured through him in an unending stream.

He’d dreamed of this, of kissing every inch of her satiny flesh, of exploring every nuance of her curvaceous body.

Gathering her in his arms, he lowered her to his bunk bed. The same bunk she’d so innocently bounced upon, bringing him to the brink of insanity. And then she’d spurned him. But he wouldn’t think of that. Not now. Not with her lying willingly in his arms.

Pure white-hot desire lanced through him, looking at her, but he forced himself to go slowly, guessing that was what she would want, what she would respond to. He wasn’t very experienced at lovemaking. But if he went slowly enough, he hoped to enflame her desire.

He kissed and caressed her throat with his tongue, nuzzling her earlobes, tracing the blue veins in her neck with his mouth.

But she had other ideas. Her passion was already at a fever pitch—like his. Taking his hands in hers, she directed him to her simple blouse, closing his fingers over the top button. He understood what she wanted without being told.

His control slipped a notch, and he found himself frantically fumbling at the buttons of her shirtwaist blouse. The buttons parted to reveal the iron constriction of her corset. Her breasts were full and alabaster white above the tight stays. Lost in wonder and awe, he trailed his lips over their rich fullness.

She reached up and unlaced her corset. It parted and only a gossamer wisp of fabric remained. He gazed at her milky-white breasts, crested with pink nipples, and felt as if the world had spun out of control, flying off its axis.

Greedy, his mouth covered her nipple and suckled.

She lurched up and buried her hands in his hair. “Nathan. Oh, Nathan. How I want you.”

Aching with pent-up desire, he responded. In a flurry of frantic need, they undid buttons and unlaced ribbons. Her clothing fell away, pushed into a crumpled heap at the bottom of the bunk.

The breath left his lungs. He’d often dreamed of how beautiful she would be, lying naked in his arms. But the dreams didn’t do justice to the reality. Her milk white skin gleamed softly, lightly dusted with freckles. Her shell-pink-tipped breasts rose and fell with the rasping of her breath. Her waist was a mere hand span, but her hips were generous, made for making love and bearing children.

His children.

“You’re perfect,” he said, his gaze raking her body. “Perfect and more lovely than I could have ever dreamed.” He paused and lifted his face to hers. “My God, Destiny, I love you so much. More than life, more than the breath in my body. And I’ve missed you. You can’t know…” His voice choked off.

She laid her index finger across his lips. “No more words, Nathan. Just love me. Show me your love.”

He didn’t need further urging. He feasted on her, like a starving man at a banquet. He couldn’t get enough of her, no matter what he did. Couldn’t taste enough of her silky skin, couldn’t kiss her deeply enough. He reveled in each touch, cherished each kiss, and savored each sigh from her lips.

And while he made love to her, her hands roamed over him, bringing him to the edge of madness. Her fingers were everywhere, easing the clothes from his body and tracing the contours of his chest. He tried to help her, resentful of the time it took to get undressed.

When they finally lay naked together, arms and legs entwined on the narrow bunk, he knew he’d touched heaven. Though he wanted to possess her completely, lying next to her perfect body was more than he’d ever expected and more than he had a right to expect.

She lifted her head and circled his ear with her tongue. The feel of her warm and wet tongue ignited his blood, pushing past his feeling of awe.

He grazed her breast with his hand and felt her nipple tighten into a hard bud. Now he wanted more, much more. He splayed his hand on her soft stomach and threaded his fingers through the silky thatch of hair at her woman’s mound. Tentatively, his fingertips strayed lower and found that most intimate part of her. He stroked her woman’s passage, reveling in the hot, wet folds of her body and all its secret places.

Moaning, she arched up, pressing herself against his hand. His fingers caressed and explored her, wanting to drive her to the brink of insanity as she’d driven him. Lowering his head, he captured her breast in his mouth.

Like a blossoming flower, she opened beneath him. Her thighs parted and her hips lifted, pushing against his fingers. Bowing her back and burying her hands in his hair, she forced her breast deeper into his mouth.

Every nerve in his body screamed for release; every muscle trembled toward completion. His carefully nurtured control slipped. He reared himself above her and parted her thighs, plunging inside of her.

She was hot and tight. So tight and so hot, he couldn’t contain himself. His seed spilled forth in a rushing torrent. When he returned to himself, he was awash in humiliation. He’d taken his pleasure and given her nothing in return. Wanting her so badly had been his undoing. But she was too innocent to understand. She lay quiet in his arms, her head buried in his shoulder.

What must she think of him? What must she think of lovemaking? She was a virgin. He’d felt the barrier of her maidenhead just before he’d climaxed. She couldn’t possibly understand or know. But he remembered her responsiveness. Knew she burned as he did. He just hadn’t been equal to her need.

Rolling over, he brought her with him.

Lying side by side, she regarded him. She lifted her hand and stroked his cheek. Her eyes held a question. A question only his touch could answer.

Slowly and carefully, almost reverently, he started over again, kissing her with adoration and exploring each inch of her body, suckling her breasts, one by one, until she arched into him, whimpering with need. This time, his fingers were bold, parting her thighs and the slick, wet folds of her. He found the bud of her desire and rolled it between his fingers until she gasped and panted.

With her rising passion, his cock stiffened again, pushing against her soft belly, insistent with its own need. And when she clasped him tighter and raked her fingernails over his back, he knew she was ready. But this time, she would be in control, taking her pleasure at her own pace.

Moving under her, he seated her on his abdomen. Her eyes widened in surprise, but she followed his lead. Gently, he grasped her by the arms and lifted her over his stiff cock, directing her, “Destiny, you lead the way. Do you understand what to do?”

She nodded, her eyes dark with desire. Tentatively, she lowered her hips, and he helped her, guiding himself into her glove-tight passage. Shuddering, her eyes drifted shut. His fingers found the bursting swell of her female nub, and he continued to caress her there as she gingerly moved up and down on his hard cock.

The taut membrane of her maidenhood stopped her movement, and she panted, “Nathan, I don’t know what to do.”

Understanding what she needed, he thrust his hips upward, claiming her virginity. She whimpered once, a concession to the pain, and then went still.

But he wouldn’t allow it to end like this again. He would bring her pleasure if it was the last thing he did. He took one of her breasts in his mouth and licked her nipple and suckled. And he continued to stroke between her thighs.

She trembled and started to move slowly again, taking him deeply inside.

The musk of her arousal filled his senses. And her movements were more frantic now. She rocked on him, digging her heels into the bed. He groaned with the earth-shaking pleasure of her riding him. She tossed her head back and her flame-colored hair flared like wildfire. Then she keened deeply in her throat.

His release came, too, with the sweet vise of her tightening female muscles. Her soft whimpers and the hot gush of her female juices sent him spinning over the edge once more.

This time, they each found fulfillment, together.