The Regency Bestsellers Collection. Bronwyn Scott

gritted his teeth, and pushed into the hot, tight silk of her body. “God.”

      Her fingers clutched his shoulders. He heard her sharp intake of breath.

      “Are you hurting?” Even as he asked, he dug his hips to steal another inch. Bastard. “Can you bear it?”

      She nodded. “I . . . I’m fine.”

      Thank heaven.

      He kissed her in gratitude. With each advance, he sensed her wince beneath him and felt like a monster for causing her pain.

      All his rakish technique had been forgotten. He wanted to be gentle, patient. But it had been forever since he’d been inside a woman this way, and this wasn’t just any woman.

      This was Alexandra.

      His Alexandra. His always. His only.

      Just a bit more, he promised himself. He wasn’t a selfish lover. He could be patient. He’d take this at a leisurely pace, allow her plenty of time to adjust.

      But first, just a bit more.

      A bit more. And a bit more. And oh, God, more. Until he’d taken everything she had to give. Sheathed to the hilt, his hips welded to her thighs, her body surrounding his.

      He’d never known such bliss.

      On her part, Alex had never known such pain.

      Good heavens. She knew virgins often found the first time uncomfortable, but she hadn’t known it might be like this. Pleasure wasn’t even a mirage in the distance. She would count herself lucky if she made it through the act without shrieking.

      She bit her lip until she tasted blood, determined not to give herself away. She didn’t want to hurt Chase’s feelings.

      “Alex.” He rocked against her. “You feel so good.”

      She growled in pain through sealed lips, hoping it sounded like a moan of pleasure.

      “Tell me what pleases you,” he said.

      “That’s perfect. Just . . . keep doing what you’re doing.”

      “At the moment, I’m not doing anything.”

      “Yes, I know.” She let her head roll back against the grass and flung a hand over her eyes. “It hurts like the devil. I’m sorry, but you’re either unusually large or unusually bad at this. I suspect it’s the former.”

      Laughter rumbled through his chest. It rumbled through that painful part of him, too. Alex whimpered.

      “You should have said something.” He pushed up on his hands, kneeling between her thighs. “We’ll stop at once.”

      He began to withdraw. She squeezed her thighs together, locking his hips in place. “I don’t want to stop.”

      “But—”

      “If it’s going to hurt the first time, I’d rather have the first time over with.”

      “Yes, love. But I’d rather our first time not be something you grimly endure. Unusually large men have their pride, too.”

      “I don’t see the way around it. There must be some solution.”

      “That’s my girl,” he said fondly. “Always sensible, never deterred.”

      Alex’s mind began spinning. “I mean, there are a dozen positions for intercourse, aren’t there?”

      “Hundreds. If a well-worn, illustrated volume in my library can be believed.”

      “Perhaps we can find one that isn’t quite so painful,” she said. “If it’s not an inconvenience.”

      “An inconvenience?” he echoed. “Alexandra, you are asking me to make love to you in a dozen different positions. If that’s an inconvenience, I beg you. Impose upon me nightly.”

      Alex smiled. She loved him so.

      Oddly enough, the pain had already begun to lessen. Their time spent talking had given her body time to adjust, and now that she wasn’t trying to hide her discomfort, she wasn’t holding every muscle tensed.

      “Let’s try this, then.” He rolled onto his side, taking her with him. He grabbed her bottom, holding her close and hooking her leg over his hip. “Any better?”

      “I think so.”

      Without the force of his body weight added to every thrust, the sensations were gentler. More within her control.

      He still felt impossibly big within her—but Alex was gaining faith in her ability to conquer the impossible.

      As a test, she cautiously rolled her hips, slowly moving up and down his length. The dull ache was still there, but it had a new, sweeter edge. A low moan eased from her throat.

      He studied her face. “Still that bad?”

      “No.” She repeated the same subtle movement. “No, it wasn’t bad. It was rather good.”

      “That’s encouraging.”

      “Yes,” she breathed, moving her hips again. “Yes.”

      She didn’t know how long they remained that way. Moving together in a slow rhythm, perspiration building between their bodies.

      Alex felt as though she were climbing a mountain slope, one step at a time. Each movement taking her higher and higher. The nearer she came to the peak, the thinner the air became. Her lungs worked for breath. She was dizzy.

      “Chase.”

      “I’m here.” His reply was shaky. “Still good?”

      “Very, very good. And how are you?”

      “Dying by a thousand blissful cuts, thank you for asking.”

      Alex smiled to herself. He’d been so patient with her. So gentle. She thanked him by trailing light kisses along his neck and chest. She scraped her fingernails lightly down his arm.

      His grip tightened on her backside. “For God’s sake, Alexandra. You’ll ruin my display of heroic restraint.”

      She looked up at him. “Perhaps that’s what I’m hoping for.”

      He pressed his forehead to the crown of her head and gripped her tight. Then he thrust hard and deep, wrenching a gasp from her.

      “Yes,” she managed, worried he’d mistake her reaction for pain. “Don’t stop.”

      She needn’t have worried. He didn’t even slow down.

      If pleasure was a mountain slope, Chase was scaling its rocky face in determined strides. And Alex was slung over his shoulder, carried along for the ride.

      He took her in strong, fierce strokes with an intensity that thrilled her. Even the gruff, desperate sounds he made were deliciously arousing. When he growled crude profanity in her ear, a naughty sense of excitement shot through her veins.

      Yet the wilder he grew, the safer she felt. His need for her was so palpable, so raw. As though he would die before he let her go. She felt, for the first time in ages, truly, entirely protected. All the uncertainty she carried inside her—the constant fear she shrugged off as practicality or logic or common sense—it drained from her body.

      The climax sent her soaring, weightless and free.

      “God.” His rhythm faltered. But he never buried his head in her neck, or her hair, or the crook of his arm. He never went away.

      He was here. With her. With her. With her.

      “Alexandra.”

      “I’m here.”

      “Talk to me.”

      “It’s me.” She stroked her hands down his back. “You’re here, with me. I love