He watched her blink and turn her face away, knowing she had blushed. Bethany Fitzgerald had never been kissed before. She had never known any man before. An unfamiliar feeling surged in him. Although almost impossible, his loins tightened even still.
Of course he had suspected. She was always guided around people, protesting against marriage, and the kisses they had shared told him, but Charles had told himself otherwise, that whoever she had had before him was not a skillful kisser, and maybe not a great lover. He had been wrong. She looked innocent because she was innocent.
She had never known passion, never known the pleasure a man could give her in bed. She had never felt the pleasure he wanted to give her at the moment. He groaned, already close to rapture. She was killing him even with her words.
She chuckled peculiarly, regarding him closely, anxiously. "You are my first."
