“Now what, Beckman?” Sara aligned herself to his side, her hair cascading over his chest and stomach.

Beck angled up off his back, gathered her against him, and rolled them. “Now, we make love.”

He didn’t give her a chance to reply but lowered his head to seal his mouth over hers. Polite teasing slipped from his grasp. He was kissing to arouse, and so—thank a merciful heaven—was she.

“Don’t hold back,” Sara whispered against Beck’s neck. “Tonight I don’t want you to be careful or restrained or gentlemanly. I want more, Beckman.”

“You’ll have it,” he assured her as she closed her teeth over a pinch of his shoulder.

He insinuated a hand between their bodies, only to have Sara seize it with her own. “Yes.” She clamped his fingers over her breast. “That. Please.”

When he gently squeezed then closed his fingers more definitely around her nipple, she pushed herself up against his cock. “Beckman…”

He kept up his attentions to her breast, until Sara was undulating rhythmically against him, flaying his self-control before he’d even gotten down to business. He’d wanted to go slowly, to savor and cherish and honor her with his caresses and his self-restraint. He’d planned to pleasure her, to pleasure them both, but gently, because she was without recent experience, and this was their first complete encounter.

His plans went up in bright, reddish-orange flames.

“Come here.” Beck shifted to his side, leaving Sara on her back. He could kiss the hell out of her this way and use his hands to better advantage. She took to the shift in positions like a duck to water, hooking a leg over his hips and rolling toward him.

“Better,” Beck growled as he filled his hand with the curve of her derriere and brought her closer.

“Beck, I want…” Sara’s fingers closed around his shaft, and Beck felt a moment’s panic.

“You can have that,” he assured her, gently untangling her fingers, “but later, love. Just a little later.”

When she would have protested, Beck spiked her guns by brushing the backs of his fingers over the curls at the apex of her sex.

“Beckman?” Her undulating ceased, surprise in her voice.

“I want this to last,” he tried to explain, exploring gently. “If you have your way with me precipitously, I won’t do you justice.”

Sara blinked, looking momentarily puzzled as he shifted his grip on her so his fingers could dip lower.

“You’re ready for me.” He didn’t keep the smugness from his tone as he swiped a pair of fingers in a long, slow caress up her damp sex. Sara’s body shuddered, and he repeated the caress, studying her as he did.

“You like that. What about this?” He dabbled at the opening to her body, gently, but not too gently for a woman becoming aroused.

“Do that again,” she said, closing her eyes. Beck obliged by easing a single finger shallowly inside her.

“Better?”

“Not better enough.” She arched her hips against him as he continued the same fleeting and shallow penetrations. When he limited himself to those teasing caresses, she pushed against him as if asking him to speed up, or for the love of God, to enter her.

Cautiously, Beck brushed his thumb over a spot higher up.

“Push harder,” she muttered, grasping his hand and anchoring it against her. “Right there, Beckman, ah, God, yes, right there.”

“And there we go,” Beck whispered, pleased and relieved, because God help him, Sara was so bloody snug, he hadn’t been sure quite how to go on.

“Don’t you stop,” Sara hissed through her teeth. “Please, Beck, you can’t…”

“I won’t.” He leaned over, kept up his stroking, and took her nipple in his mouth. He pleasured himself more than her, suckling greedily and drawing firmly in a rhythm that counterpointed the movements of his hand.

“Beckman…” Her fingers clamped around his wrist, her back arched, and her hips thrust up hard against his hand. His control nearly slipped when Sara began to make low, soft noises of pleasure and need and greater pleasure still.

“Everlasting, merciful…” Sara rolled to lay panting on her back, turning only her head to gaze at him. “God above, Beckman Haddonfield. You should be banned by royal decree.” She rolled back into him, tucking herself against his chest, and hiding her face against his body.

Despite the arousal roaring through his body, Beck was pleased. Pleased for her, pleased for himself. Embracing her, he was reassured he had the patience to see this through, and the determination. He gathered her against him and swept her hair over her shoulder.

“You’re all right?”

“Buzzing,” Sara replied. “Once more, in very short order, buzzing. You?”

“I will be,” Beck answered. God willing, he would be soon. “But I’m concerned.”

“Hnn.” Sara’s tongue found his nipple, and by the lazy way she stroked him, Beck knew he’d chosen his moment well. Sara would not know a concern now if it kissed her on the lips.

“It’s not a serious concern,” Beck went on, “but I’d like your agreement to humor me, Sara.”

Sara sighed contentedly. “Right now, you can have anything you please of me, Beckman. I am powerless to refuse you.”

Beck smiled, his imagination taking off with that offer. “I want you, Sara, more than I can recall wanting anybody or anything, but there’s only one way I will have you.”

She raised her face up to peer at him, the gravity in his voice perhaps penetrating her haze of well-being.

“What are you about, Beckman?” She reached up and brushed his hair back from his forehead. “And you needn’t be diplomatic. Have I disappointed you?”

“Does this feel like disappointment?” He wrapped her fingers around his shaft.

Sara smiled wickedly. “No. That feels like the sweet shop is still open for business.”

“Not to you.” Beck answered as sternly as he could, but he had to close his eyes as Sara’s fingers stroked lightly over the head of his cock. He caught her hand with his, stilling it, but not making her turn loose of him.

“What do you mean, Beck?” The beginning of hurt laced her tone, and Beck was relieved to know he had her attention.

“You have to promise me, Sara, you’ll let me have the reins for the next little while.” He kissed her cheek to soften his words and to take in a gratifying whiff of her fragrance.

“Didn’t I just give you my reins? And the whip and spurs, along with a few lumps of sugar?”

“You did.” Beck smiled despite himself. “But I want to be inside you, Sara. Want it so badly my eyes are crossing, and if you get to showing your enthusiasm, I could hurt you.”

“That is nonsense,” Sara began. “You are being overly…” But he held her gaze and slowly stroked her hand over the entire hard, thick length of him.

“I’ll sleep in the stables,” he threatened. “I’ll sleep in the Solent rather than hurt you, Sara. You can’t undermine my control on this, not this time.”

She frowned, maybe sensing there was a compliment, a reason to be pleased in his words, and then he saw her put it together: she could drive him beyond reason were she too enthusiastic. Her, Sara Hunt, retiring, rusticating, widowed housekeeper.

“I will abide by your direction,” she said gently. “No matter what, Beck. You can trust me on this, for this once at least.”

He kissed her to hide his relief. In bed at least, he’d never disappointed a woman. And he really would sleep in the stables before he’d start now. Carefully, he shifted over her and settled between her legs.

Sara’s hands came to rest low on his back. “What do you want me to do?”

“You can kiss and pet and carry on all you want above the waist.” Beck nuzzled her throat. “Below the waist, you don’t move unless I tell you to. Not a wiggle or a tease, Sara.”

“Below the waist, I am your statue. I will come to life only at your command.”

For several minutes, he tried to content himself with easy kisses.