Chapter Fifteen

She had paced her bedchamber for the last half hour. Perhaps it had even been longer than that. All she knew was that her nerves were beyond frazzled. She’d never been this anxious.

He was coming to her room to consummate their marriage. He had to. This was what he’d said he wanted. Yet as she stared at the door adjoining their chambers, it did not open.

She went back and stood before the mirror again. In addition to the wedding gown he’d purchased for her, he’d evidently bought something for her to wear tonight. Though it completely covered her body from neck to toes, the gossamer fabric was as delicate as fairy wings and nearly as translucent.

This was ridiculous. He did not make all the decisions. Starting their marriage this way would give him the wrong idea. She donned her dressing gown and took a sobering breath before she opened the door between their bedchambers.

At first she thought the room might be empty, but then she heard him…grunting. She stepped farther into the room and came around the corner at the foot of the massive four-poster bed. There, hanging in the doorway, was Oliver.

He wore only his breeches, and the bold display of his body was breathtaking. As he methodically pulled his body up and then down, the muscles in his arms and shoulders shifted and bulged. She could not tear her gaze away.

Her brought his legs up to his waist, then dropped them again.

“I’m nearly done,” he said.

She hadn’t even realized he’d seen her yet, she’d been so absorbed watching the sinuous play.

“I’d never realized that men had those.” She pointed at his stomach.

He glanced down as best he could from his dangling position. He finished his count, then dropped from the hanging bar and landed on his left leg.

“Can you hand me that?” He pointed to the towel hanging on the basin table.

She grabbed it and walked it over to him. Her eyes ate every inch of him. Perhaps if he allowed her to simply look upon him until she had her fill, she might not miss the affection of a loving husband.

He wiped his face and neck and torso, ridding his body of the sheen of perspiration. She had the ridiculous urge to follow the trail of that towel with her tongue. Her cheeks heated.

She looked up at his face and found him watching her, one brow cocked, a quirk of a grin on his lips.

“I must admit, wife, that I very much like the way you are looking at me right now,” he said.

She swallowed. “I, uh…” She reached out and traced her hands over the ridges that lined his abdomen to make eight defined flesh-covered rectangles. His stomach tensed beneath her touch, but he did not move, allowing her to explore the hard muscles. “You’re beautiful.”

He chuckled. “I’m glad you think so.”

“I was nervous.”

“Pardon?”

“Waiting for you to come to me. You were planning to consummate the marriage tonight, were you not?” The words rushed out of her in a quick ball that seemed to simply roll off her tongue as she opened her mouth.

He ran a hand up her arm; even with the dressing gown between her skin and his, she shivered at his touch.

“Sweet Harriet, I have waited far too long to let this evening pass without consummating our union. I merely was attending to some things first. I apologize for causing you nerves.”

“Let us get it over with then.” She quickly untied the dressing gown and let if fall to the floor, leaving her in the impractical shift that essentially covered nothing. She squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to see any disappointment on his face.

He swore. “You’re not going to make this easy on me.”

“Make what easy?” she asked.

“Taking my time. Trust me when I tell you you’re going to want this to go slowly.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her lips. It was gentle and full of promise, but he did not delve into her mouth as he’d done before.

“What is that bar for?” she asked, pointing at the metal pole that hung horizontally in the doorframe leading to his dressing room.

“Oh, primarily I use it to tie up servants when they misbehave. But on occasion, such as tonight, I exercise with it,” he said.

She laughed and felt her shoulders relax. “I know you well enough to know you would never mistreat a servant.”

He moved away from her then and went over to a table across the room, where he opened a decanter and poured two glasses of amber-colored liquor.

“Here, sip slowly. It will help with your nerves.” He handed her the glass.

She brought it to her lips and took a small swallow.

He took her other hand in his. “You do know I will never hurt you in any way?”

Her body? Yes, she knew that. Her heart, she wasn’t so certain.

…

Hell, he’d not intended to use his bar tonight, but he’d already been so bloody hard for her, he’d thought taking the edge off by punishing his body might help him. Then she’d burst in and her lust-filled eyes had devoured him. He’d never built his body for any reason other than to assist with the limitations of his leg. But that look on her face had been worth every sweat-filled time he’d spent on that damned bar.

The soft, shimmering shift cupped her breasts, not quite allowing him to see all of the details, but enough that his erection was back in full force. He had to take things slow with her, he knew that. She was a virgin; she’d need him to be tender, not rut her like a randy boy.

Her pink tongue darted out to lick a drop of the brandy off her lip. He nearly groaned. He set his own drink aside, untouched. Tonight would require him to have full use of his senses so he could better control himself.

She drank the last swallow of her brandy and let him take her glass.

“Feeling more relaxed?” he asked.

She took in a shaky breath. “Yes, I think so.”

“You looked so beautiful today, the perfect bride.”

She smiled. “Thank you. You selected a wonderful gown. Though I did wonder how you managed to order something with such a perfect fit.”

“I’ve measured enough items and designed structures, that I suppose I have an eye for that sort of thing.” He moved his hand to the curve at her waist. “This is stunning, too.” He let his eyes rove over her. Damned if he didn’t want to pick her up and toss her onto the bed, but doing so would be impossible with his leg. He could barely hold his own weight let alone anyone else’s.

He led her over to the bed and gently pushed her backward so she fell onto the mattress.

She bit down on her lip. “Please douse the light.”

God, he didn’t want to. He wanted to drink in his fill of her. With his eyes. With his mouth. With his cock. But tonight he’d indulge her. This first time. Then never again.

He turned and walked across the room to douse the lamp on his side table, then the one on his chest of drawers, and finally the one on his bedside table. Thankfully, the glow from the fireplace gave off some light.

He heard something hit the floor next to him, and when he reached out to Harriet, he found she’d removed her gown. Her bare skin was so soft.

Quickly, he relieved himself of his remaining clothes and climbed onto the bed.

She’d scooted herself fully onto the mattress and lay silent and still.

He leaned against her, his heavy erection pressed to her thigh. She sucked in a breath.

“I’m assuming you know about the goings-on between a husband and a wife in the bed?”

“Of course. I am a virgin, my lord, not a ninny.”

He chuckled. “Excellent, as I have no use for ninnies. Then again, I’ve never had a use for a virgin before, but with you it’s different. Everything with you is different.” He leaned down and kissed her throat; the pulse under his tongue leaped. He moved over to her mouth and slanted his across, putting forth all the passion he felt. Showing her precisely what he wanted to do to her body.

Her tongue slid against his, and he groaned. Her hands forked through his hair angling his head to meet her kiss. He lowered a hand to cup one breast. She moaned into his mouth and arched herself into his palm. Her nipple beaded under his touch.

“I’ve had dreams about these breasts,” he murmured.

She giggled.

“Why is that funny?”

“I don’t know. Just seems an odd thing to dream about.”

“Oh, but that’s because you don’t have the imagination I do. The things I want to do to your breasts, Harriet.” He lowered his head and sucked the hardened tip into his mouth.

She cried out.

He massaged the other one while he continued to kiss and suck the first. Her hips bucked and twisted, trying to find relief.

Her hand moved up his chest, then back down, tracing the muscles in his torso. Though her fingers were cold, he’d never tire of her explorative touch.

“I’ve dreamed of washing them, lathering up soap, and rubbing the soft bubbles against your magnificent breasts.”

Her fingers ventured lower, to the indention at his hip and then around to his bottom. She brought her entire hand there and cupped him. He ground himself against her thigh as he sucked hard on her breast.

She arched again, pulled at his bottom to get him to move closer to her. But it wasn’t time yet. He needed her nice and wet and wanting him so badly that he barely had to touch her before she came.

“I, of course, dreamed of kissing and sucking them, as I am now.” He showed her precisely what he’d thought about doing to her so many times. Her moans of pleasure tugged at the base of his erection. He slid a hand up between her breasts, the sensitive skin that lay in her cleavage. “More than anything, though, I’ve thought about putting my cock here.”

He’d have given anything to have seen her expression because the little “oh” that came out of her mouth must have reflected pure desire.

“But not tonight. Tonight, I’m going to put it here.” He slid his hand down her stomach, into the warm, wet spot between her legs. He did not slip his finger inside her just yet. All the same, she pushed herself into his hand, her body begging for what it needed.

Her hands were frantic and needy as she moved them across his skin. One still cupping his ass, the other moving over his stomach muscles.

She rocked her hips toward him. He slipped one finger into her folds.

“Oliver,” she breathed.

He closed his eyes and relished his name on her lips. He pushed another finger inside her, and her hands gripped at his flesh, her nails biting into his skin. Then he moved them, slowly at first, but as her whimpers increased, so did his speed. With his thumb, he traced over the hidden nub, and she gasped.

“Oh my, oh my!”

He kept his rhythm, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. Her channel tightened around his fingers, and her breathing shallowed. She was getting close. He lowered his head and took her nipple into his mouth and laved it with kisses. She tensed and then broke.

“Oliver, Oliver, yes…”

He could wait no longer. While she was still riding the aftereffects he positioned himself atop her.

“Am I too heavy for you?”

“No, the pressure is actually pleasant,” she said. “Though foreign.”

He was glad that she felt free to talk to him during their lovemaking.

“This might pinch,” he said, then he sheathed himself inside her.

Her nails bit into his biceps, and she tensed.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. There’s no way around that little pain. It won’t hurt from now on.”

“I’m fine,” she said.

He bent and kissed her, tenderly, then slowly he moved his hips, pressing into her, then pulling back out nearly to his tip.

“Harriet, you have no idea how good you feel.”

Gingerly, she pulled up her legs and wrapped them around his waist, seating him into her even deeper. He swore.

She froze. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, it’s just really good, and I wanted to last longer for you.” With this new angle though, every thrust rubbed him against her bundle of nerves, and she gasped each time.

“Again?” she whispered.

He chuckled. “I hope so.” He thrust into her, in and out and then felt her spasm around him as she cried out his name. One more push and he spilled his seed inside her.

He’d been right about one thing—his desire for her would never wane.