| |
Moira sat up, suddenly feeling foolish and frustrated. “Aren’t you supposed to be one of the most accomplished rakes in London? Nay, in all of England. This isna something I expected I’d have to explain to you.”
His eyes widened at her testy, challenging words. Then he laughed—a rich, heavy, gravelly sound that seemed to settle deliciously in Moira’s core.
“I’m getting an awful sense of what you were expecting tonight and I am sorry to disappoint you, love”—he lowered his tone as a bold and sinful light sparked in his gaze—“but that is not how I do things.” Stepping toward her, he pulled back the covers. “Come here.”
With a flutter in her pulse, Moira slipped her legs over the edge of the bed and stood. Taking a much-needed breath deep into her lungs, she tried to figure what came next since her assumption about lying in bed had obviously been incorrect.
“Relax,” he said in a rough whisper.
“I’m perfectly relaxed.”
He made a sound like an abbreviated chuckle. She tipped her head to frown up at him and was immediately distracted by that damned dimple. Then her gaze drifted along the strong line of his jaw, the sinful curve of his lips, up to the smoldering blue of his eyes.
He was right, she was a bundle of tightly bound nerves.
“Give me your hands,” he commanded softly as he held his own to her, palms up.
She rested her hands lightly atop his, hoping he wouldn’t detect her trembling.
Holding her gaze, he slid the tip of his index finger over the pulses at her wrists, just as she’d felt him do during the ceremony.
The caress—so slight and subtle—sent tingling chills up her arms and down her spine. When he turned her hands over and swept his thumbs across her palms in lazy circles, her muscles melted like butter in the sun while her heart leapt to a dangerous pace.
One step brought him close enough she smelled the warmth of the honeysuckle soap Nan made emanating from his skin. He tilted his head as his gaze scanned her face, pausing over the furrow between her brows and the firm press of her lips. “Something is bothering you. What is it?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
He gave a slow smile. “The truth, please.”
It was a knowing smile, arrogant and gently smug. Just the kind of thing to set Moira even more on edge. If there was one thing she hated, it was having her ignorance proven.
“What on earth could I possibly have to be concerned about?” she asked in agitation. “I’m only standing in nothing but my nightgown before a perfect stranger who I’ve vowed to honor and cherish. But first, to make it all official, I must allow him to claim my body. Ach, there’s nothing at all to be worried about, is there?”
His eyes darkened and his mouth tensed. “I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do.”
“I’m not saying I don’t want to,” she said quickly as heat infused her cheeks. She really did want to.
Before she’d gone to London to face Melbourne, she’d known that whether he agreed to the compromise or decided to fulfil the contract in full, the union would be consummated. She’d mostly chosen not to think on that issue overly much.
But since her first encounter with her betrothed, it had been nearly all she’d thought about. She was clearly not immune to the man’s charm considering how her body seemed to light up in his presence. And she had to admit...she was curious. About lovemaking. And him.
What would his lips feel like? Would his hands be firm or gentle? Would the heat she felt from his body overwhelm her?
Lowering his head, he whispered, “We don’t have to do anything tonight. We can wait.”
She shook her head, feeling the weight of it on her softening shoulders. “Nay, there has been enough delay.” She cast a quick glance toward the bed. “I’m just nervous. Perhaps we should do it quickly. Get it over with.”
The shadow of concern slid from his eyes and he once again looked slightly amused. “Not a chance, sweetheart. I’ve an urge to make this last a long, long while,” he murmured before lowering his head to press a brief kiss to her temple. Then he shifted to do the same on the other side.
Moira didn’t realize her eyes had drifted closed in response to the gentle caress of his lips until he asked, “Have you been with a man before?”
She jerked back at the question, her eyes flying opening. “Of course not.”
He shrugged as if her response wouldn’t have mattered either way. “I didn’t think so, but I didn’t want to make any assumptions.”
What manner of man was he that he didn’t seem as if he’d be the slightest bit put off if his bride had come to him less than pure?
A man who had enjoyed his fair share of lovers and, apparently, wasn’t a hypocrite about it.
Releasing her hands, he trailed his fingers slowly up her arms, inspiring delicate chills along her skin before he gently cupped her jaw in his hands. Tipping her head back, he brushed a thumb across her cheek. His blue-gold eyes probed her gaze as though searching for something.
Moira held her breath. She hated feeling as if she should know what to do or, at least know what to expect.
For nine years since her Grandda’s death, she’d successfully managed the estate and addressed the concerns of her tenants with confidence and efficiency. She rarely questioned her own judgement or instinct. She was known for being fair and decisive.
She was not accustomed to trusting in someone else’s direction. Yet in this...with the duke—her husband—she had no choice. She had put herself in his hands and must surrender to his greater experience. It was terrifying.
His gaze dropped to her mouth as he spoke in a rough whisper. “I’d like to start with a kiss.”
Moira managed a brief nod though sparks ignited in her blood at his words.
His expression was patient as he leaned forward to press his mouth to hers. The pressure of his lips was warm, pleasant, and undemanding, but before she could discern anything else about her first kiss, he lifted his head.
“Was that all right?” he asked in a hushed murmur.
She drew a long, steady breath to ease the tightening in her muscles. “It was fine enough, I suppose.”
He smirked and arched a brow. “Fine enough?” His focus fell to her mouth again. “Hmmm.”
Then he lowered his head once more. But this time, instead of a simple press of his mouth, he executed a brushing caress across her lower lip. Then a too-quick nip at her upper lip before he parted his lips and tilted his head to take her mouth more thoroughly.
Moira stood still and receptive through the initial movements of this second kiss, even though her heart raced and her skin tingled with sensations she’d never felt before. She was afraid to do anything that might alter his intentions and cause him to stop the wonderfully tantalizing touch of his mouth.
But the moment she felt the heady warmth of his breath followed by the wet touch of his tongue at the seam of her lips, she could no longer hold back her response. Her eyes fell closed while her mouth opened on a sigh and her hands grasped his forearms.
He murmured something rough and rich against her parted lips. She couldn’t comprehend the meaning of the words though she knew by the way it made her body heat that it was something wicked and brazen.
When he gave a gentle nudge of his thumb against the corner of her mouth, her lips parted farther and his tongue slipped past her teeth in a sultry exploration that had her fingers curling into his taut muscles.
The sensation was intoxicating. The heat of his mouth. The rich, masculine taste of him. The wet, velvety glide of his tongue as it teased and tangled with hers. And then the shift of his body as he pressed his tall, hard form against her. Curving his arm around her waist, he held her in place to feel every inch of where their bodies came in contact.
With focused intent, his kiss caressed and coaxed and devoured. He claimed the breath from her lips and replaced it with drugging flicks of his tongue. He curved his shoulders around her and pressed his fingertips to the pulse below her ear. Then he boldly palmed her buttock to draw her hips toward his until she could feel the rock-hard length of his arousal against her belly.
The evidence of his physical reaction to their kiss made her light-headed and heavy-limbed. Heat and hunger swirled in her core as she shifted her hands to grab his shoulders, in part to keep herself upright, but also in a desperate urge to bring herself closer to him.
Then he broke away. His eyes burned bright blue, the gold flecks were like tiny flames, and his breath rushed swiftly through his parted lips. Releasing her, he tugged at the sash of his robe. “This has to go,” he said roughly as he shed the garment and tossed it aside, leaving him bare from the waist up.
Moira stared at him. She could do nothing else.
Muscle shaped the length of his arms in long, solid curves. His shoulders were broad and strong, his chest was defined by more muscle covered by a patch of hair that swirled around his nipples before fading away to reveal the rippled lines of his abdomen, then starting up again in a narrow line that descended from his navel downward.
“Is my bride pleased by what she sees?” he asked.
She looked up from admiring his body to meet the teasing glint in his eyes. “I doubt you need me to tell you what a splendid physique you possess.”
One side of his lips lifted. “Splendid? And what of my kisses? Improved?”
Moira withheld her own smile as she gave an assessing look. “I imagine they can get better.”
A deep chuckle rolled from his chest. “Oh, they get better,” he assured as he rubbed his palm across his lower stomach, drawing her attention downward. “Much better.”
And then she couldn’t resist glancing a few inches lower to where his erection was visible beneath the casual fall of his trousers.
Heat blasted through her as she forced her attention back to his face. Though he had to have seen the momentary direction of her gaze, he said nothing. He just lifted his hand to brush the backs of his fingers along her jaw and then the side of her throat as he brought his body back into direct contact with hers.
Already his heat and his scent were becoming familiar.
He paused to pluck at the ribbon ties that kept the wide neck of her nightgown cinched. “Shall we loosen these ties?”
Again, he gave her the option to refuse. It confused her.
She’d expected him to fall atop her in the bed, shove her gown to her hips, rut between her thighs for a bit, then roll away. At least, that’s what Nan had led her to believe would happen when Moira had mustered the courage to ask about the marital act a few years ago.
She could see the desire in his eyes and there was no mistaking the arousal in his body, yet he was being unexpectedly patient and considerate of her inexperience. That he would do so affected her more than she would have admitted.
As soon as she gave a brief nod, he pulled at one of the ribbons, releasing it from its careless knot. The soft cotton neckline immediately began to gape. A gentle tug of his fingers widened it until the cotton drifted down to pool at her feet.
She hadn’t been fully nude in front of anyone since she’d been a small child in need of assistance at her bath. Though a trickle of anxiety tumbled through her, she was saved from embarrassment by her stubborn pride, which insisted she remain straight-spined and silent beneath his perusal.
He sighed deeply—a rough, masculine sound—before he murmured in a thick voice, “You are a beautiful woman, Moira.”
She experienced a flood of warmth at his earnest appreciation.
“I’m going to touch you now,” he continued. “If anything makes you uncomfortable, I want you to tell me.”
Unable to speak past the anticipation rising within her, Moira nodded.
In a slow, gentle movement, he brushed the heavy fall of her hair over one shoulder. The drift of his fingers continued down the hollow of her spine to the inward curve of her waist...and then lower to the swell of her buttocks.
Stepping closer, he gently smoothed his palm over the soft flesh of her rear, his fingertips just barely tracing the cleft between. Tingling sparks of fire ignited in the wake of his touch, throwing heat in every direction. And all the while his gaze smoldered.
Lifting his other hand, he brushed the knuckle of his index finger down the slope of one breast to drift lightly across the sensitive peak.
Moira drew a swift breath.
The dimple flashed and he repeated the caress, just a faint teasing stroke.
Moira’s belly trembled and she curled her hands into fists but she couldn’t look away from his bold and beautiful face. Not when he briefly caught his bottom lip between his teeth. And certainly not when he drew his middle finger between his lips to the knuckle, wetting it before he lowered his hand to her breast once again.
Moira noted the bunching of muscle in his jaw a split second before she felt the wet touch of his finger followed by the cool bite of air on her moistened flesh when his wet fingertip circled her nipple.
“Lovely,” he murmured thickly in appreciation.
Tightness threatened to close Moira’s throat. “You don’t have to do this,” she forced in a whisper.
“Do what?”
“Seduce me. I’ve told you I’m willing.”
He chuckled, a rich, velvety sound. “Willing isn’t nearly good enough, love. I insist my women be eager. Desperate. Melting and mewling for my touch.”
An uneasy feeling stirred in her stomach. “Your women?”
“Many women,” he replied with an unrepentant grin. “One wife.”
“I don’t mewl.”
The look in his eyes was far too wicked...and far too potent. “We’ll see.”
His hand slid warmly over her hip, then across her low belly as he stepped around behind her. Pressing his palm flat over her navel, he lowered his head. She felt his warm breath first, then the touch of his lips, soft and delicate against the curve where her neck met her shoulder.
Tingling sensations spread from the gentle kiss, making her nipples pucker as heat filled the flesh between her legs. Another quiet press of his lips. Her eyes closed as her head fell to the side. When she felt the wet touch of his tongue, she struggled to draw a full breath.
“You respond beautifully. But you’re holding back. There is no shame in this, love. No shame in succumbing to pleasure in its purest form.”
He released a heavy sound from the base of his throat. “Can you feel how badly I wish to please you?”
She could. His hot, hard length nestled insistently against the softness of her buttocks.
“I need to touch you.”
Something in his words—his deep, throaty voice—triggered a tightening within her and caused her to arch and press her hips against him as she made a sound that was half pleading, half demand.
He immediately slipped his hand between her legs. The warmth and strength of his touch easing between her thighs was disconcerting. But the first slide of his fingers along the seam of her sex was astonishing.
Her legs stiffened and she grasped his forearm. The increased pressure of her hand over his wrist caused his middle finger to dip into the wet heat of her inner folds. The deeper caress sent a swift shock of sensation across her tense, concentrated nerves, drawing a gasp from her throat.
“You are so beautifully responsive. Your body already melts to my touch,” he murmured thickly against her ear. “But I want more.”
She held her breath and her hand remained wrapped tightly around his wrist as he guided his fingers in a mind-stealing rhythm against her previously untouched flesh. The first circling pass over the bundle of nerves at the apex had Moira tilting her hips for more. On the second, firmer press of his fingers over that sensitive bud, her spine curved into his chest, her rear pressed back against his groin, and her head dropped to his shoulder.
She no longer felt in control of herself as his fingers explored her secrets. She couldn’t stop seeking—needing—a deeper possession. A more intent claiming.
As though reading her mind, he slid his fingers in a luscious caress along her folds before the blunt tip of one finger delved past her entrance. The intrusive pressure of his finger inside her was unexpected and wonderful. Languid heat rushed to meet his touch.
“That’s better, love,” he praised in a gruff purr as he withdrew his finger slowly before returning it to her sheath, pressing deeper.
A sound rose in her throat, a half-strangled cry behind clenched teeth as she curled her fingernails into his arm.
Without removing his hand from between her legs, he wrapped his other arm around her torso to palm her breast. “I’ve got you, love. You can let go. Surrender to the sensations.”
Her breath moved swiftly between her parted lips as he pressed delicate kisses along the side of her throat. She felt wanton and wild standing there in his arms with his fingers playing over her body as though he knew every secret yearning she’d ever had.
She never could have imagined anything so decadent—so erotic.
And then he pressed a second finger inside her to join the first. The added pressure and fullness tugged another sound from her throat and caused her inner muscles to clench around his fingers.
“Perfect,” he whispered as he gently curled his fingers inside her, eliciting a new streak of pleasure that weakened her legs.
With her body trembling, he offered a few more lush strokes before withdrawing his hand to sweep her up in his arms. He carried her swiftly to the bed and lowered her to the mattress, following her down until his large, muscled body covered hers. On instinct, she parted her legs, providing space for his hips to rest.
The broad crest of his heavy arousal was poised at her entrance, shielded only by the thin linen of his trousers. The presence and pressure of him caused a flutter in her belly that traveled down to her sex. Her thighs tightened against his hips and her breath came short.
On instinct, she slipped her arms around him to press her palms flat to the muscles of his back. She was on fire, breathless, needful, and terrified.
It was too much. Far more than she’d ever expected to feel with him. More than she wanted to feel.
He gave a rocking thrust of his hips and the delicious response in her body made her squirm. His breath caressed her face and knew he was looking down at her, but she kept her eyes tightly closed. If she looked into his blue eyes now, she’d be lost completely.
His mouth fell to the side of her throat as he performed another roll of his pelvis, causing his hardened length to glide along every awakened nerve of her sex.
Then he made a gruff sound and rolled to the side. He shed his trousers quickly before settling back between her legs to cover her breast with his mouth. The feeling was indescribable. Hot, luscious, demanding, generous. He laved and sucked and scraped with his teeth.
The sensual distraction was so overwhelming she didn’t even tense at the feel of his erection pressing more firmly to her core.
And then he reached down between them and slipped his fingers along her opening, softening her flesh before parting it gently to make way for his thick member. The pressure of his possession was slow and encompassing. It took her breath and all her concentration to keep from pushing him away as he slowly breached her virgin flesh, inch by inch, stretching her until he was full and heavy inside her.
And then he stilled.
With his head bowed beside hers and his breath fanning across her shoulder, he paused.
Long enough for Moira to make note of the sweat coating his skin and the brush of his chest hair against her nipples. She breathed in his scent and felt his heartbeat shuddering through her body. And she felt the deep, hot throb of him inside her.
The intimacy of the moment stole her breath. She felt empowered by the passions rushing through her, yet also more vulnerable than she had ever known was possible.
With her awareness muddled by astonishing new sensations, she didn’t notice that, in their stillness, she caressed his back in long, gentle strokes of her fingertips. Once she realized what she was doing, she stopped, which seemed to inspire a low groan of dismay from the man atop her.
He turned his head and pressed a kiss to the outer shell of her ear. “Have you become accustomed to me inside you?” he asked in a gruff whisper.
“What?” she asked, a bit a confused.
“Has your pain passed? Are you ready for me to move?”
“Why do you have to move?”
His body shuddered with what she quickly realized was a deep roll of laughter. “So I can make love to you properly, wife.”
There was more?
What had already transpired had been quite intense enough for one night. But then he must have realized she wasn’t going to reply, because he withdrew from her by slow degrees, igniting strange tingling sensations throughout her body, inside and out. After a brief shuddering pause, he thrust carefully forward once again.
He repeated the motion a few more times, withdrawing farther and thrusting deeper each time until tension built slowly in her muscles and low in her belly. Then he brought a hand up to the side of her face and his mouth claimed hers. Soft at first and languid with gentle sweeps of his velvety tongue.
But as the motion of his hips became more insistent, so did his kiss. His tongue delved past her lips and played with hers. He sucked her bottom lip into his mouth and released it with a gentle bite.
The sensations became steadily more intense—more consuming—until she clutched fiercely at him, her fingernails curling into his skin. She arched her back to press her breasts more firmly to his chest and lifted her knees to deepen the strokes of his flesh inside her.
She grew nearly mindless as the needs of her body overruled all else.
And then, with a deliberate change in the angle at which he entered her, the perfect grinding pressure of his pelvis to her sensitive swollen bud caused a sweetly sharp and sudden pulse. Her body froze as she clung to him. He gave another hard thrust and the pulse exploded into a wave of aching, sparkling pleasure that rushed out to her toes and fingertips and swept the breath from her lungs.