He sank to his knees, his lips burning a hot path through her nightgown, descending through the valley between her breasts and settling over her navel.
"John?" she asked breathily. "What…?"
"Shhh, just let me take care of everything." He sank down even lower, until his hands could wrap around her ankles. "So soft," he murmured. "Your skin is like moonlight."
"Moonlight?" she said in a strangled voice. The powerful sensations streaking through her body had rendered her voice barely usable.
"Soft and gentle, yet with a touch of mystery." His hands made the slow trip up her calves, pushing her nightgown up along with them. When he was halfway up, he twisted around her to deposit twin kisses on the backs of her knees. Belle cried out and nearly fell over, and she had to clutch on to his head for support.
"You like that, do you? I'll have to remember that." He continued moving upward, marveling at the delicate skin of her thighs. With a devilish laugh, he darted his head under the now rather high hem of her nightgown and planted a kiss in the crook between her leg and her hip.
Belle thought she might faint.
The nightgown moved even higher, past her hips, and Belle felt a vague relief that he had moved from her thighs straight to her stomach, bypassing her most private area.
As John pushed the material further, he rose to his feet, pausing briefly before he bared her breasts. "Did I remember to tell you the other day that they're perfect?" he murmured huskily into her ear.
Belle shook her head mutely.
"Round and ripe with two precious pink buds. I could suckle at them all day."
"Oh God." Belle's knees went completely and totally weak again.
"I'm not done yet, love." He held the hem of her gown just below her breasts and then pressed it to her skin. As he lifted it up, Belle could feel the pressure traveling up the underside of her breasts. Spasms of pleasure shot through her as the hem caught her nipples and then freed them with a bounce. And then before she knew it, she was completely naked, her skin glowing soft and white in the dim light of the candles.
John sucked in his breath. "Never in my life have I seen a sight so glorious," he whispered reverently.
Belle flushed with delight at his words, and then all of a sudden she seemed to realize that she had on not a stitch. "Oh my God," she croaked. Shyness swept over her like a cool wind, and her hands snaked forward to cover herself.
As best she could.
Which wasn't, after all, very well.
John chuckled and lifted her into his arms. "You, love, are perfect. You shouldn't feel ashamed."
"I'm not," she replied softly. "Not with you. It's just very strange. I'm not… used to this."
"I should hope not." He pushed the books off of her bed and laid her down on the soft white sheets. Belle stopped breathing momentarily as she watched him begin to undress. His shirt came first, baring a firmly muscled chest that spoke of years of hard exercise. The sight of him caused warm, tingly feelings to pool in her belly. Without thinking she reached a hand out, even though he was much too far away to touch.
John both smiled and groaned at her curiosity. It was getting harder and harder for him to maintain his control, especially when she was lying there looking up at him with huge blue eyes. He sat down on the edge of the bed and yanked off his boots, then stood up again to peel off his breeches.
Belle gasped when she saw his manhood, huge and… no this wasn't going to work. He must be bigger than normal, or maybe she was smaller than normal, but-she gasped again.
His knee.
"Dear God," she whispered. It was covered with scars, and it looked as if a large chunk of flesh had been removed from just above the joint. The taut skin was discolored and without hair, its mere presence an angry reminder of the horrors of war.
John's mouth twisted. "You don't have to look at it."
Belle's gaze shot quickly up to his face. "It's not that," she assured him. "It's not ugly at all." And to prove her point, she slid out of bed and knelt before him to kiss the scars. "It makes me sick to think of how this must have hurt you," she whispered. "And how close you came to losing your leg. You're so vital, so strong. I can't imagine what that would have done to you." She began to kiss him again, raining a soft stream of love onto his skin.
Emotions John had never expected to feel, never dreamed he could feel, surged powerfully within him, and he pulled her roughly to her feet. "Oh God, Belle," he rasped. "I want you so much."
They tumbled onto the bed, landing so that John's hard frame covered hers. The breath was squeezed from Belle's body, yet the weight of him was glorious, unlike anything she'd ever experienced. He kissed her and kissed her until she was certain she would melt, and then suddenly he lifted his head and looked deeply into her eyes.
"I'm going to pleasure you first," he said. "So you know that there is nothing to fear, that there is only beauty and wonder."
"I'm not afraid," she whispered. Then she remembered how large he had looked. "Well, maybe a little nervous."
John smiled reassuringly. "I haven't any experience with innocents, but I want this to be perfect for you. I think it might be easier if I give you release first."
Belle had no idea what he was talking about, but she nodded anyway. "You sound as if you've given this considerable thought."
"Believe me," he said hoarsely. "I've thought of little else." His hand gently slid down the length of her body.
She reached up, touched his cheek, and softly said, "I trust you."