“I couldn’t possibly,” she muttered on a breath of air that drifted toward him and sank beneath his skin.
Cupping her cheek, he gently caressed her, allowing her to relax against his touch. “Please, Lucy, I need to know that I’m not the only one consumed by this desperate desire that I feel for you. Tell me that you feel it too.”
She responded with the slightest of nods. “I do,” she whispered, and he felt his heart soar with elation. “My heart pounds in my chest whenever you are near, and whenever I think of you I…”
His stomach tightened and his skin prickled as he contemplated her next words, but they trailed off into silence, and she looked suddenly quite embarrassed. Pulling against him, she made an attempt at escape, but he held on fast, tightening his grip instead. “What were you about to say?”
“Nothing.” Her eyes darted sideways, and he knew that it wasn’t nothing at all.
“Have your thoughts of me been…improper in any way?” Dear God, he hoped so.
Her eyes closed against his words. “How can you ask me such a thing? It’s not appropriate.”
He grinned at that, loving her innocence. “I beg to differ, my dear, for you see, I am your husband, and I simply wish to know what excites you, and given the situation that we are in, it is really very appropriate.” He paused as he toyed with a lock of her fiery red hair. “Do you understand?”
It took a while before she nodded, the simple movement sending sparks of pleasure across his skin. “I fear you might think me wanton.”
He leaned closer, so as to whisper in her ear. “I’ll tell you a secret, Lucy. You may be as wanton as you wish when it’s just the two of us.” He leaned back to meet her eyes, which were now as large as saucers, but there was something else in them too—hunger, he reckoned. “In fact, I would encourage it.”
Pulling her toward him, he settled his hands about her waist, saw the expectant look upon her face, and leaned forward, gently kissing her upon her lips. There was no hesitation on her part. On the contrary, she practically flung her arms about his neck, tugging him closer as she drew his lower lip between her own, startling him to no end with her brashness. Apparently he’d not only found himself a very astute pupil but also a delightfully passionate woman.
Taking advantage of the opening her move offered, he slipped his tongue between her lips, coaxing hers until she followed suit. Liquid heat pulsed through his veins, built by the fire she so eagerly offered. He lowered his hand to the firmness of her bottom and pushed her hard against his growing arousal, extracting a gasp from somewhere deep inside her.
Her hold on him tightened and William felt her squirm ever so slightly as she adjusted her position against him, allowing him the access he craved. It was almost too much for him to bear. He wanted more, needed more, and knew without a shadow of a doubt that so did she, and yet he forced himself to remember that he must be careful with her.
Running his fingers along the length of her spine, his fingers toyed with the small, silk-covered buttons of her gown, pushing them through their buttonholes one by one until he felt the fabric fall away from her back.
With a deep kiss, he ran his hands back up her sides. They hesitated against the curve of her br**sts, and again he felt her move restlessly against him. Intent on denying both of them a moment longer, his hands continued on their upward path. Disengaging himself from her, he then stepped back a little and, with his gaze holding hers, slipped the small capped sleeves off her shoulders and down her arms until her gown lay pooled at her feet. “Turn around,” he muttered, and she did as he asked without question or the slightest bit of hesitation.
For a moment, his eyes simply ran over her, feasting on her every curve. He reached out his hand and allowed it to slide across the plump swell of her bottom, but when he gently gave her a squeeze and she arched her back in response, he had to fight to maintain his composure. He would have her soon enough—but not in a rushed and insensitive way. No, Lucy deserved better than that. So he drew a tight breath instead and went to work on her corset, pulling on the ties until it, too, fell away from her.
Stepping back a little so as to better peruse her, it was impossible for him to hold back the heavy breath that unwillingly escaped his lips, for her chemise, much like the nightgown she’d worn the other evening, left nothing to the imagination. Indeed, she might just as well have had nothing on, and he almost staggered at the incredulity of it—and of her. Circling around in order to face her, he made no attempt to hide his admiration. Her br**sts were larger and fuller than he recalled—or perhaps they simply appeared so due to the much tighter chemise.
Her n**ples, however, were hard like pebbles, beckoning for his touch, while her waist was slim and her h*ps well rounded, with an alluring patch of red between them. She was perfect in every sense of the word—absolutely perfect.
Watching her face, the desire in it, he reached for the hem of her one remaining garment, found it, and proceeded to pull it up, so slowly and deliberately that he was certain that her expression turned to one of pure torture. A satisfied smirk lifted the corners of his mouth as the flimsy fabric came up to bunch around her waist, his fingers sliding over her soft and enticing curves. Lifting her right leg, he settled it upon a small bench that stood by the foot of the bed. Her eyes widened in response, and his smiled broadened into a roguish grin. “How do you feel?” he asked in a gruff tone as he ran his fingers along her extended thigh in small circular motions that left gooseflesh in their wake.
She sighed in response, her back instinctively arching once more, forcing her br**sts against the taut fabric that was still covering her upper half. “Sinful beyond compare,” she muttered.
A deep throaty chuckle escaped him. “This is only the beginning, my love.” He lowered his lips against her neck to plant a row of kisses there. “By the time I’m through with you, you’ll feel just about ready to burst into flames.” His teasing fingers skirted along the place where he knew she desired him the most. She groaned, tried to move herself toward him, but his fingers moved on up and over her hip, crawling beneath her chemise and over her naval. With determined fingers, he grasped the delicate fabric that still encased her, and then with a quick upward sweep, he pulled it away from her body and tossed it on the floor.
Lucy immediately sucked in a breath, and he felt her shiver. Reaching up, his hand found her breast. He squeezed her nipple, gently at first, and then more insistently as she arched her back further, her eyes glazing over. By God he could kick himself for wasting this much time on what led to their marriage. This…what she had to offer was exquisite pleasure beyond belief. She was innocent, yes, but the way she responded . . . he’d never find another woman more erotic than her. The effect she had on him . . . Lord help him. If he didn’t remove his breeches soon he felt certain that the buttons would begin to fly right off.
Lucy was in heaven. There could be absolutely no other explanation, she reasoned. The way he touched her . . . the feelings and sensations those nimble fingers of his evoked was completely maddening.
The juncture between her thighs had long since grown hot with need—the ache there almost impossible for her to bear a moment longer without losing her mind. What sort of woman would think such deplorable things? Good heavens, she actually wanted him to touch her there, in her most private of places. Indeed, she was quite prepared to beg for him to do so. It was appallingly inappropriate to say the least!
But of course the blasted man seemed quite indifferent to her need. In fact, his fingers had danced right past her most urgent desire and . . . She let out a small gasp as he pinched her nipple. Apparently the pleasure that waited between her thighs would have to delay a while longer, for she felt her whole body tremble as he touched her and . . . Dear merciful God, his tongue . . . that devilish tongue of his was licking at her br**sts, sending bursts of scorching heat along her flesh. Lucy whimpered; it was unavoidable. And then she felt his whole mouth descend upon her, suckling with ferocious need as his hand swept down along her midsection. Down, down, down, until . . .
Lucy practically buckled, the sensations were so overwhelming, but he held her firmly in place, cradling her against him with his left arm while his right hand stroked the soft folds of her womanhood.
“Bloody hell, Lucy,” he murmured against her ear, “you’re so incredibly wet…”
She wanted to ask him what he meant, but the words wouldn’t come. She was beyond speaking, beyond chastising herself for this utterly divine and alarmingly uncivilized behavior. All she could do was enjoy it. So she did—every second of it.
Pressing against his hand, she reveled in the odd yet delightful feel of the caress that his fingers offered as they feathered inside her, stroking her toward a place of wondrous glory.
Tugging on her nipple with his teeth while his fingers continued to work their magic, she suddenly felt herself burst like fireworks erupting in the night sky, and for a moment there was no doubt in her mind that she would crumble from the force of the waves that shook her. But William held her firmly in place, allowing her to lull in his embrace. “Good gracious,” she muttered, her breath still coming in heavy pants.
She felt him nuzzle her neck. “There’s so much more,” he murmured.
Her eyes grew wide with wonder. How much more could there possibly be? She felt dizzy just contemplating it but was afforded little time to consider the matter any further before finding herself lifted off the ground. A moment later, William settled her down on the bed, straightened himself, and then looked at her in much the same way that a hungry lion might view a gazelle. He was all but salivating. His eyes were hooded, his breath coming fast as he ripped his shirt from his shoulders and flung it across the room. Next, he started popping open the buttons of his breeches, one by one.
Lucy stared, mesmerized and incredibly curious. The bulge at his crotch appeared to have grown in size, if such a thing was even possible. Perhaps her eyes deceived her?
Bending at the waist, William drew both his breeches and his unmentionables down over his long, lean legs, and Lucy’s mouth grew instantly dry at the sight of the flexing muscles he revealed. Pulling the garments over his bare feet and kicking them away, he then righted himself and turned to face Lucy. She couldn’t help but gasp at the sight that presently greeted her. William merely grinned, eyes sparkling like those of a young boy about to do a world of mischief.
Never in her life had she seen or imagined something like this. It was huge—much larger than his fingers had been. And yet as horrified as she was at the prospect of him coming one step closer with that . . . thing jutting toward her, she was also somewhat intrigued. Feeling the need to say something—anything at all—she suddenly asked, “Is that . . . normal?”
Looking up, she saw that his lips had begun to twitch ever so slightly and knew that he was trying to stop from erupting into a fit of laughter. Well what was she expected to think? She frowned and crossed her arms, feeling a bit put out, not to mention rather embarrassed that she’d asked what apparently appeared to have been a rather silly question.