Sweet Annie Part 23

He removed his dark wool jacket, revealing suspenders crossed over a white shirt with a day's worth of wrinkles. The cotton stuck to his lean ribs and back where moisture from his body had adhered it.

He raised his head and gave her a questioning look. "I'm going to take off my shirt and wash. Shall I go in the other room?"

Goodness no! She didn't want to miss a moment of this. She shook her head slowly.

His fingers raised to his tie and loosened it, yanking it free of the collar and tossing it over the back of a chair. Next he unb.u.t.toned the top two b.u.t.tons, but he paused and met her gaze.

Perhaps he was uncomfortable with her staring at him. "Do you mind if I watch?" she asked.

He swallowed, but shook his head, and his fingers continued their journey down the line of b.u.t.tons until he shrugged out of the suspenders, letting them drop to dangle at his thighs. He tugged the hem of his shirt from his trousers. The shirt gaped open. His chest was covered with hair as black as that on his head.

Annie stared. Her knees trembled. "Do you mind if I sit?"

"No."

She folded onto a chair.

His collar came off separately, and he placed it on the table. With a fluid movement, he tugged one arm from the garment and then the other, and laid the shirt over the chair with his tie.

He was all muscle and sinew, chest, neck, arms, belly, and she could see now that the ebony hair grew in a triangle shape with the widest area across his chest and the narrowest point arrowing into the waistband of his black trousers.

His skin glowed in the sunlight from the curtainless window, dark and supple, nothing like her fair white skin with its dusting of freckles.

Annie swallowed, realizing her throat had gone dry.

He turned and poured hot water into an enamel basin, pulled a cup and bar of soap from a shelf near the stove and sc.r.a.ped soap off with his razor. Stirring with a brush, he made a lather, and, looking in the small square mirror on the wall, he spread it across his cheek, chin and neck.

"What are you doing?" She'd never seen anyone wash their face like that.

"Shaving."

"Oh." Of course.

"Didn't you ever see your father or brother shave?"

"No."

His hand lowered. "Maybe it's ungentlemanly of me to do this here-with you watching. Where does your father shave?"

"I have no idea." But she didn't want him to go somewhere else. "But I like it. Didn't you shave this morning?"

His hand came up with the brush. "My beard grows fast." He finished lathering, tipped his head back and guided the razor up his neck in even strokes.

Annie'd never been so captivated, not even by one of the adventure stories she'd read from the library. What a fascination Luke Carpenter was. Without conscious thought, she stood and moved a little closer, leaning on the back of the chair, his cotton shirt beneath her fingers, the smell of him bringing moisture back to her mouth.

From this close, she could see his eyes in the mirror. He met hers. "I can see that fire in your eyes, Annie," he said hoa.r.s.ely.

Now he drew the razor down his cheek, across his chin, then down the other cheek and stroked beneath his nose while he made a comical face that gave him access to the whiskers.

Bending forward, he rinsed the remaining streaks of lather from his face while Annie observed the flexing muscles in his back and shoulders, noted the absorbing manner in which his spine separated the corded muscles.

Picking up the basin, he moved past her, opened the door and returned a moment later with it empty. He poured more water in, and taking a cloth, he soaped it and washed his chest and under his arms.

Water splashed as he rinsed. He grabbed a towel to dry his face and arms. Straightening, he turned toward her. A damp wave fell over his forehead. Droplets glistened in the thick curls on his chest where her attention riveted. Annie reached for a length of toweling.

Luke lowered his arms.

Annie took a step forward.

He watched her.

She raised the towel and blotted at the drops on his chest, taking her time, inhaling the scents of soap and man. She wiped his ear, his shoulder, dropped the towel to the floor and stretched a tentative hand to touch the black curls matting his chest, finding them surprisingly soft.

Annie ran her finger across his collarbone, tested the smoothly shaven skin on his throat, then used her palm to test the skin of his shoulder and biceps. His flesh seemed alive beneath her touch. "You are so beautiful," she whispered.

He expelled a breath and raised his eyes to the ceiling.

Annie wanted to press her cheek against that chest. She stared at it hard. Embarra.s.sed by her boldness and the odd quaking in her abdomen, she took a step back.

Luke lowered his gaze. Intense blue heat raked her face and hair, the veil. "You must be uncomfortable after being in that dress all day. Do you need help taking it off?"

Was he thinking fair was fair-time for her to bare herself to him? Her heart hammered up into her throat. She raised her fingers to the pulse there, found the warm pearls.

Watching Luke do anything was like watching a ballet or listening to music. His perfect body moved fluidly and gracefully, each motion a synchronized harmony of muscle and flesh.

She was clumsy and imperfect and would never be called graceful. Luke would never watch her move or see her without her clothes and be able to call her beautiful.

Annie swallowed humiliating self-doubts, knowing he loved her. Never would she be here if he didn't love her.

"Yes," she said, finding her voice, but it sounded as though it came from far away. "I need help unb.u.t.toning my dress."

Chapter Thirteen.

"But it's-" her gaze went to the window "-it's not dark yet."

"Not yet," he said, puzzling over her words. "Should it be dark?"

"Well, I just thought, I mean I imagined..."

The reason for her hesitation dawned on him. "Annie, we're not gonna do anything at any time that you're not comfortable with. I was only suggesting that you might want to change clothes. If you want to dress in somethin' else until bedtime, that's fine."

Her gaze lifted, and the fire wasn't gone, but other emotions were crowding it. "Luke," she said.

He tossed his toweling aside and took her by her upper arms. "Yes?"

"Could you just kiss me? I'm feeling awkward, but everything feels right when you kiss me."

He smiled and drew her close. "I'd love to kiss you."

Her satin dress was cool against his warm skin as he drew her into his arms and lowered his face to hers. Lace and seed pearls pressed against his aroused flesh. He recalled the ludicrous admission when she'd told him he'd be the first. Annie was as pure and innocent as a newborn babe, but a banked fire glowed deep inside, waiting for fuel and air.

Perhaps it was to his benefit that she'd never been coached in the ways of "womanhood"-that her mother had never expected her to become a wife, because she hadn't been instilled with the foolish ideas of what was ladylike and what wasn't. She'd been thoroughly engrossed by his body and her indulgence aroused him beyond belief. He'd learned already just how sensuous and eager and warm-blooded his new wife could be.

It was his job to show her the beauty and purity of their love. She stroked his bare shoulders, her fingers trembling on his skin, skimming down his arms, kneading his neck. She had no idea of the fire she fueled in him.

Against his lips she parted hers and he sensed her waiting breathlessly for the play of his tongue. He teased her by darting it against her lip.

She made a soft cry in the back of her throat.

This time he drew a line across her lower lip.

Annie held his head still and raised on tiptoe.

"You do it, Annie," he whispered.

She hesitated only a brief moment, then swept her tongue into his mouth, against his teeth, tasting him, drawing him deeper into the kiss.

Her erotic kisses and the glide of her hands over his chest had him aching and burning with want.

She separated their lips by a fraction of an inch to speak. "Can we do it all now?"

His head was a little numb and he had to rethink to make sure he'd heard right. "All?"

"Take off my dress. And the part that comes after that."

"Make love, Annie? You want to make love now?"

She nodded.

As if he would say no? But he wanted her rea.s.sured. "There's something you should know," he said.

"What's that?"

"I am yours Annie. My heart." He placed her hand over his chest and her fingers curled deliciously. "My body." He made out her pulse beating rapidly at the base of her throat. "My body is yours. For your pleasure. If you can understand that, then you won't have to be afraid."

"I'm not afraid." Her quavering voice belied those words.

"Has anyone ever told you-that-that it hurts the first time?"

She shook her head. "No."

"It's normal," he offered, hoping to rea.s.sure her.

Her body trembled in his arms. "Okay."

"Are you cold?"

"No."

"Then you are afraid."

"Not of you, Luke."

"What are you afraid of?"

She lowered her gaze, encountered his chest, and turned to the window, the picture of innocent beauty in her pristine gown and veil.

He imagined all the things she might fear. "You're not afraid I will hurt you?"

"No."

"You're not afraid to have a baby?"

She blinked. "No."

"Tell me, Annie. You can tell me."

Her cheeks bloomed with bright color. She lowered her eyes to the floor. "It's me," she whispered. "I'm not...perfect."

That word stunned him. As well as the fact that she doubted her perfection. "Is this about your leg? Your hip?"

Tears gathered on her lowered lashes.

"It doesn't look the way you'd like it to?"

"No. It doesn't look the way it should."

He raised her face with his knuckle under her chin, forcing her to look at him. "You think I care about perfection? You think after what we've shared and the way I've always treated you that a small thing like outward appearance makes one d.a.m.n bit of difference to me? You hurt me if that's what you think."

Tears spilled over and ran down her pale cheeks. "I think you're the kindest, most loving person I've ever known."

"Then you know I don't care about a physical difference. I love you. You."

With a sob, she hugged him around the waist and clung.

Luke rubbed her back until she calmed, then pulled away. "I'll help you with your dress and then I'll bring fresh water for you to wash if you'd like."

"Here?"

"No. In the other room. In private."

She nodded and he led her toward the bedroom. She stepped in ahead of him.