Tonight, she wanted more.
Cassandra rinsed, dressed, and dismissed the maid for the night. She did not even want herchocolat chaud, and promised Wenna the entire pot just to get the girl out of her hair.
She did not want to tarry. She didn’t want to lose her nerve.
Wenna had turned back the counterpane and plumped the pillows, yet Cassandra did not climb into bed. She crossed the carpets instead. With a deep breath, she raised her hand at the door panel, and rapped her knuckles upon the gilded wood that separated her from the man she loved.
Wade always came to her, but now she was coming for him.
He opened the door. His hair was damp, as if he had just washed his face and raked his wet fingers over his head. He wore his nightshirt, which gaped loosely at his throat, exposing a deep V of bare, muscled chest to her gaze. He’d hastily slung a dressing gown over his shoulders, not bothering to tie the sash.
“Is anything the matter?” he asked, lazily.
“I’ve grown tired of waiting.”
He smiled, for they both knew she was not discussing bedtime—at least, not their usual ritual. Wade had respected her need to wait. For weeks, they’d shared nothing but kisses and the closeness of their bodies. But he had opened her eyes to a world of pleasure.
Cassandra wanted what was hers—what wastheirs—for she had not come to Pender Abbey to remain the chaste companion of a lonely man.
She crossed the threshold and entered his ducal bedchamber. She recognized the large, canopied bed draped in velvet and silk damask. He had lain with her there, reading from a copy ofthe Times.
Cassandra remembered the sofa and armchair by the marble mantel, and noticed her handkerchief folded in pride of place. Wade must have sat and held it when he’d left her.
Had he been waiting, anticipating?
Did he know that she would come to him? That one sip of pleasure wouldn’t quench a thirst that had been choking her for a decade?
Wade gathered her into his arms. He tipped her chin and met her mouth. She welcomed his touch and his kiss, and opened for him on a sigh. Cassandra drew on his tongue, feeling a wash of heat as she recalled where that mouth—that tongue—had been.
Her knees went weak, and she sagged against him, grateful for Wade’s strong arms holding her tight.
“Come to bed.” He tugged her hand, guiding her toward his mattress. The hangings had been tied back with gold cord, exposing the bed linens to dim moonlight that filtered through the open windows. “We’ll do all the things you like…for as long as you like.”
She did not wish to be selfish. This night was as much for him as for her. “What about whatyoulike?”
“We’ll do some of that, too, when you’re ready.” Wade smiled. “Until then…”
He was a man of his word. He kissed her the way she liked to be kissed. He caressed her in all the ways she wanted to be caressed, and once she was panting and pliant in his arms, Wade fondled the hem of her night rail. The ribbon-edged fabric was already halfway up her thigh.
“Can’t we take this off?”
She swallowed. “You first.”
He hauled his nightshirt over his head and let it fall carelessly to the floor. Moonlight glinted off his firm, broad chest. Her eyes raked the length of his naked body. There was no part of him that was not hard, lean, and perfectly formed.
She reached a trembling hand to touch his abdomen. Muscles flexed beneath her fingertips. The feeling of him—so unyieldingly masculine—sent little ripples of desire through her core. A dark thrill settled in her breast, for this man was her lover. His body was all for her.
Wade curled over her, shadowing her, blocking out the bed curtains, the canopy, and the light of the moon. She could see nothing but him, and felt nothing but him as his hands gently guided her backward onto the pillows.
Cassandra allowed him to strip off her night rail. She dared not look away as he drank in the sight of her nude body. He reached his hand to touch her. Fingers skated over her chest, and she expected him to slide down and cup her breast, but Wade simply brushed his fingertips over her bosom and shoulders.
“So many freckles, Cassie,” he said, almost reverently. “I noticed them that first night I saw you, peppered above the low bodice of your frock. I swore this part of you had never known sunlight.” He bent to press a kiss to her sternum. “How did you get them?”
“I suppose they’ve always been there.” She gasped as his lips trailed between her breasts. “I never thought anyone would notice. I never thought anyone would see them.”
“I see them.” He groaned. “Ilikethem.”
She wanted so badly to please him. Cassandra searched for his hands. She brought his palms over her breasts, squeezing them. Her nipples felt hard, aching.
