The Wicked Deeds of Daniel Mackenzie(84)
Author: Jennifer Ashley

“I don’t know what to do,” she said rigidly. “You have to tell me.”

Daniel’s smile beamed in the darkness. “I’ll do better than that, sweet.”

He reached up with both hands, unbuttoned the last of the nightgown, and pushed it from her shoulders. Cool air, only a little heated from the fire, touched her skin.

“I won’t rush you,” Daniel said. “We have all night.”

The nightgown’s sleeves bunched at Violet’s wrists, and her br**sts hung free, unfettered. She’d never been bare in front of a man before. The red-bearded man hadn’t undressed her—he’d simply shoved up her skirts and ripped her drawers out of his way.

This is different, she told her terrified self. This is Daniel. This is what it is to be a man’s lover, not his payment.

Daniel slid both hands to her bare waist, caressing. He drew his touch up to her br**sts again, both hands cupping her now. Violet took a sharp breath, but she made herself still, to feel.

What she felt was the heat of Daniel’s fingers, his strength as he lifted her br**sts in his hands, his gentleness as he caressed them. Her back wanted to arch, to press her br**sts into the cups of his palms. Violet resisted, not knowing what he wanted.

“Love.” Daniel lifted one hand to her face. “It’s all right. No one will come in.”

“I still don’t know what to do.” She couldn’t find the words to explain. Violet, who knew all about people and how to read every one of their emotions, had no experience here.

Another caress to her cheek. “This goes both ways, remember? If you’re feeling hungry, you feel hungry. I’m hungry for you.”

“I don’t know how to. I don’t know what to do . . .”

“No rules for this in your world, are there?” Daniel’s smile was lazy. “I’ll tell you a secret. There is no guidebook. No rules. It’s giving pleasure and getting it in return. Some lovers out there like to dictate every move, but not me. I’m all for enjoyin’ it and ourselves. Nothing we do in this bed tonight is wrong.”

Violet tried to still the shaking inside her. Her fear was deep, going back to a precise moment that had shaped the direction of her life. She’d changed in one instant from trusting girl to broken woman, no in-between.

Daniel wanted her to find the in-between, to live every second of the life she’d lost. And still Violet didn’t know what to do.

“In Marseille, you let me touch you,” she said.

“Yes.” Daniel’s voice was a pleasing rumble. “I remember.”

“Let me do that again. I wasn’t afraid then. Or less afraid anyway.”

Daniel slid his hands to her wrists, taking them out of the sleeves that still confined her. Her nightdress fell gently across her lower back. “I think I’ll be able to stand that, lass.” He made a show of letting go of Violet, stretching his arms, tucking his hands beneath his head. “Touch all you want, wherever you want. Move the quilts and pillows when you need to. Let nothing get in your way.”

Daniel watched her from half-closed eyes, firelight brushing gold to his unshaved whiskers. Perspiration gleamed on his throat, the hollow of it a shadowed dip between the hard spread of his collarbone.

Firelight also burnished the wiry curls on Daniel’s chest. His abdomen was flat, speaking of his active life. The indent of his navel was visible above the covers, but the blankets that snaked across his hips cut off her view of anything lower.

Violet placed both hands on his chest. Daniel wasn’t a statue; he wasn’t a god. He was warm, living flesh, with a beating heart and a slow smile.

Violet closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensation of his aliveness, his being. That she was allowed to touch this beautiful man made her slightly dizzy.

She opened her eyes again to find Daniel still watching her, wondering what she would do. The fact that he didn’t know gave Violet confidence. He was expecting nothing. He only waited.

Violet spread her fingers, the hair on Daniel’s chest wiry but soft. She watched a curl twine around one of her fingertips and smiled.

“Do you know how beautiful you are when you smile, lass?” Daniel said softly. “It’s like being touched by sunshine.”

Violet didn’t know how to respond. Daniel’s smile could warm her to her toes, make her day brighter, but she was embarrassed to gush.

She spread her hands across his chest, finding his flat ni**les, which were drawn to points as tight as hers. Not lingering, Violet moved to the hardness of his abdomen and dipped one finger into his navel.

Daniel laughed. His hands came up, then he stopped himself and forced them back to the pillow. “I said there’d be no rules, but I might have to beg you to not tickle me.”

“You’re ticklish?” Violet asked in surprise.

“Exceedingly so. Especially on my belly.”

“Oh.” Violet lifted her hand away. Then she gave him a mischievous look and danced her fingers across his abdomen.

Daniel snorted with laughter and caught her wrists. “Little devil.”

Violet struggled with him, the playfulness relaxing her a bit. He was strong, though, telling her he could do as he pleased with her if he chose.

But he didn’t choose. Violet easily slid her hands from his grip. “Peace.”

Daniel waited, not trusting her, then finally he rested his arms back up alongside his pillow. “You’re dangerous, woman.”

Their tussle had shifted the covers down his legs. Violet stilled as she saw his c**k resting against his lower abdomen, hard and waiting for her.

Violet had touched him before, had felt him come undone under her hand. But Violet had not yet looked at Daniel’s full length, at the firm ridge of it, the sign of what their playfulness was leading to.

A rush of panic came at her. Violet closed her eyes as she silently beat it back.

She’d been afraid for so long, and she did not want to let fear ruin this moment. Daniel was giving her a gift—himself—without hurrying her. He was being as patient with her as she’d seen him be with his father’s horses, as he coaxed the most timid to trust his touch.

Daniel knew how to watch, wait, encourage, and pull the best out of the horse. He could do the same with the children, and even his engines. He was a remarkable man.

Violet’s panic rose like a wave of blackness, cutting off her breath and her vision. She fought it silently, too afraid even to move.

Daniel’s touch broke through it. Violet pried open her eyes. Daniel lay without speaking, his fingers brushing her wrist, the softest touch. He knew what she feared, what she fought, and he didn’t grow impatient, or angry. Daniel waited, the small touch on her hand guiding her back down from the dizzy heights of terror.