Paladin114

Sophia didn't want to move from her place on the bed. With Erik's shoulder as a pillow and his fingers serving as a comb through her long hair, she found herself content. Each warm breath caressed her forehead where pain still lightly throbbed. Part of her reasoning for remaining so still was the pain, which didn't seem bad if she reclined.

"Are you cold?" he whispered.

"No," she replied, snuggling closer, comforted by his touch and the smell of his masculine body cradling her feminine form. She never would have guessed that arms could entwine with such tenderness, such perfection.

"Good," he answered, his voice dreamy and thick with sleep.

"Didn't want to move?" she teased.

He grunted, fingers lazily stroking her skull before he lifted her hair from her shoulder and allowed it to fall down strand by strand. The gentle tug against her scalp gave her the most exquisite sensation she'd ever experienced, a toe-curling tingle. As long as he didn't touch the bump that had formed on her forehead, she didn't mind his gentle attention.

"What does that mean, hmm? A grunt?"

"It means not really."

"You know," she said. "I've been thinking."

"You're always thinking."

"Well, that's a good thing, isn't it?"

He squeezed her tighter. "I'm not always certain."

She giggled and lifted her chin to see his expression. He appeared amused, which she'd never seen on his face. 'Playful' rarely seemed like an apt description of Erik Belmont, yet he looked almost boyish in nature. Each second she looked at him seemed to sink her deeper and deeper into pure bliss of the storybook variety. Doves would soar, angels would sing, church bells in the distance would play the sweetest music she'd ever heard.

Or perhaps she'd tell him what she'd been thinking.

"I was thinking about the word seed."

"Excuse me?"

"Seed," she clarified.

"Spring," he murmured. "It will be nice to see the manor with the trees in bloom and the ivy alive. It's been a long time since I've lived in the country. I'd forgotten the smell of freshly cut grass, how the house smells with the windows open."

"No," she said, drawing the word out longer than necessary. "I mean you're correct, of course, but that isn't what I meant. Not those kind of seeds. I mean the….well, you know."

His shoulder tensed beneath her head. "I'm afraid I don't."

Her lips pursed, but it wouldn't keep her quiet. She'd need to have her mouth sewn shut to keep her from continuing. "A…man's seed."

He'd stopped breathing the moment she elaborated, which immediately turned her cheeks and neck to fire. Never one to fear words, she shrank at her boldness, wondering if perhaps now wasn't quite the time to voice her observation that she thought a better description was salad dressing.

-o-

Erik stared up at the ceiling and wondered if this conversation was really a dream. It didn't seem possible that he lay beside Sophia in her bed, but now that seemed at least feasible while this sudden turn in conversation felt more like a nightmare.

Her inability to censor herself seemed to rub off on him as well. "I still don't understand," he said.

"It wasn't what I expected."

He hesitated, wondering if he truly wanted to know what she'd expected. His only reply was a weak, cowardly, "Ah."

"I really thought it would be more like…well, poppy seeds."

A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Poppy seeds?"

"Yes, I always thought it was literally seeds shooting out from…there. But it's not it's more of a…"

He held his breath, partly horrified and partly intrigued. She seemed like an entirely new person sprouted from the innocence of the old Sophia.

"Concoction."

Unintentionally he chuckled and buried his face in her hair.

"Which, if I may say so, is quite frankly making me hungry just thinking about poppy seeds and salad dressing."

"This has turned into a highly inappropriate conversation."

She moved onto her side and furrowed her brow, apparently taking his words seriously. She drew further away from him and carefully looked him over. "Why is it inappropriate?"

"Honestly, I'm not certain," he answered, afraid he'd offended her with his teasing. He wanted to stay with her, couldn't imagine a more perfect scenario than the one they'd spontaneously created. Now, all he needed was to fall asleep at her side and wake with her still in his arms.

"You're not certain but you think it's inappropriate?"

"Sophia, I never thought I'd hear this from anyone, let alone you."

"Are you…angry?"

He kissed the side of her head. "Why would I be angry?"

"You seem quiet," she replied. Her brow knit with worry. "Or am I speaking enough for the two of us?"

He closed his eyes, tempted to fall asleep beside her. "Continue."

"Are you sure?"

"Mmmhmm. I want to hear your voice."

"Then may I ask you a question?"

"Yes, so long as it's not about food." He kissed her again to make certain she knew he was only teasing.

"How did you know what to do?"

He paused and considered her question a moment. "Instinct, I suppose."

"Instinct?" Her voice sounded meek. "Then why don't I have such instinct?"

"You do," he assured her.

"But then, how did you know how to…I had no idea that a man who did what you did would feel so wonderful." Her voice had turned high, perhaps a sign of her embarrassment. "It's like you'd… done it before."

Despite her innocence, he heard the unintentional insult in her words. She knew no better, he realized, and he'd admitted in a roundabout way to having no experience, but now she blatantly questioned his manhood.

"I did what I wanted to do," he answered.

"Is that how you also knew how to show me what brought you pleasure? Instinct?"

He winced before she finished.

-o-

Sophia finished her question in barely a whisper and chewed on her lower lip. Basking in the afterglow of their intimacy, she'd wanted to know more and more about what they had done together, to assure herself that they hadn't done anything wrong. Words, it seemed, were her greatest enemy.

Erik had become rigid beneath her, his breaths hard and steady, the hand that had recently stroked her hair now balled into a fist where it lay on the pillow beside her.

"It was," he started and abruptly paused. "Not instinct on my part. It's more likely experience."

"Oh," she said, unsure of what else to say. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and she licked her lips. Just when she needed something else to say, words escaped her. Discomfort washed over her and she gnawed on her lip. "What kind of experience?"

If it were possible, he stiffened even more. "Personal, intimate experience," he said, his voice hinting at the first spark of anger. "Is that what you wanted to know, Sophia? How many times I've…done this to myself?"

She started to shake her head but realized he wasn't paying attention to her.

"Many times," he seethed. "What would you expect from a man who had never touched a woman until tonight? Is that what else you wished to know? If I were Don Juan? I'm not, Sophia, I'm no such thing. I am thirty-seven years of age, and you are the very first to ever…allow me…" He paused, his Adam's apple bobbing, his anger faltering, mood plummeting. "I know of your body only what I've read in books, just as you knew of mine because of your studies, only I didn't merely study. I indulged."

She sat up and clamped her hand over his lips, which startled him into silence. He appeared livid, if only for a heartbeat, before he merely stared at her, his gaze filled with shame.

"Stop," she said, her voice more harsh than she'd intended. "Please, just stop."

To her surprise, he made no attempt to protest. The wild, pained look in his eyes subsided. His lashes lowered, closing out the pale green pools reflecting her face. He'd gone unnaturally white, the relaxation she'd seen earlier turned to pinched lines between his eyes and along his forehead.

"I'm so sorry," she said, hoping her accepted her apology. "I never meant it like that, to insult you."

He turned his head to the side. "It's what I am," he answered bitterly. "A novice."

"Then we belong only to each other," she said softly. Timidly she placed her hand over his and looked up to meet his gaze.

He eyed her with suspicion. "Do we?"

"I'd like to think so," she answered dreamily.

"You're not disappointed in me, in what I've done?"

She tilted her head to the side. "It doesn't seem like you've done anything wrong, at least not to me. I understand that others may disagree, but if you know what you're doing you could always teach me, couldn't you? So that I could…help."

A tingle ran down her spine, and for a moment she could have sworn that someone else spoke on her behalf. The boldness in her voice surely belonged to someone else, and the words couldn't be her own. If her parents ever intended to roll over in their graves, they would have been in constant motion once they heard her words.

"I think you would have figured it out on your own."

"No, I don't think so. I didn't know what to do with your thing besides stare, and that wouldn't have gotten us very far."

"No, I don't suppose it would have." He settled back beside her, his hand relaxed beneath hers. For a long while he studied her face as though judging if she told the truth or had spun a lie for his benefit. Eventually his expression softened and he offered a cautious smile. "If you want my honesty, Sophia, then I'll tell you that your soft touch was the most wonderful sensation I've ever experienced."

She was certain she glowed with pride. Grinning, she ran her fingers along his ear and caressed his jaw. A strange mix of giddiness and delayed understanding filled her as she realized that these lips had touched her breasts, her neck, and her shoulders. These beautiful, soft lips, had triggered a sensation inside of her that she'd never known her body was capable of feeling. She wanted to reach down and touch where he had touched, but she couldn't, especially with him beside her. Somehow she understood that it wouldn't be nearly as pleasurable.

"Sometimes," she whispered, "I feel as though everyone in the world knows more than I do. I feel as though I'll marry one day and be a terrible, inexperienced wife. I'll bear children and be a terrible, inexperienced mother. Tonight I felt like I could be good at this—this love. The sounds you made, what happened between us…you made it perfect and special. I don't care if it's because you've done it to yourself before. You showed me, and I'm the first for you, just as you're the first for me."

"And we haven't done anything," he mumbled.

"It was more than I ever imagined," she said, her face flushing with embarrassment.

He leaned over and kissed her gently on the forehead. Long, steady fingers combed through her hair, traced the slope of her nose. With heavy-lidded eyes, he looked her over, watched her with cat-like interest in its conquest. She thought for a moment that he'd seize her with his lips and at once they'd be clawing at one another again. Instead, he reclined.

"Forgive me for my words, Sophia, but I don't want to talk anymore. I just want to stay here a little longer, hold your hand, and close my eyes."

Content with the warmth of his body, she snuggled up closer and shut her eyes. "Are you angry with me?"

He grunted. "No," he answered at last. "Merely unaccustomed to your curiosity."

"Good. I had no intention of ruining this night."

He nestled his face in her hair. "You are incapable of ruining a single minute of my life. Now, hush, beautiful Sophia. Hush."

She smiled again, having no desire to continue the conversation, especially when she could run her fingers along his chest and feel his breath on her scalp. The beat of his heart and the sound of his breath said enough for her. She knew he loved her and she loved him.