She moaned against his lips, gripping his broad shoulders in an effort to pull him even closer. Somehow, she couldn’t have enough of him.
He stopped at her moan, breaking the kiss to glance down at her, their noses nearly brushing against each other. “Are you sure, darling?”
Victoria nodded, incapable of coherent speech, and slid her palms down over his strong back to his buttocks. She urged him to come inside her more fully, drawing him into her. He obeyed her unspoken plea, pushing deeper. If she had thought his touch had driven her mad, it was nothing compared to the onslaught of sensation she felt now.
He began a wicked rhythm, and she matched him, raising her hips eagerly for more. Each thrust built the intensity of her pleasure, bringing her closer and closer to the point of fulfillment once again. He groaned, increasing his speed as he pumped into her before lowering his head to claim her lips in another kiss. His tongue swept into her mouth, possessive and demanding. When he reached between their bodies, she couldn’t stave off the ripples of bliss that began to overtake her. She shuddered, coming helplessly undone, crying out her pleasure.
Her climax seemed to drive him wild, for he propelled himself into her even faster, harder and deeper. He tore his mouth from hers to throw his head back, eyes closed. The expression on his face was one of pure ecstasy. She’d never seen him look so unguarded before, and watching him as he took his pleasure filled her with a new feeling of warmth for him.
In another series of thrusts, he stiffened against her, a groan so low it almost sounded like a growl coming from his throat. She knew another wave of heady passion as the wet spurt of his seed went inside her. And then he collapsed atop her completely, breathing heavily. He pressed a reverent kiss to the side of her neck.
In the aftermath of their desire, neither one of them spoke. Victoria gently brushed a lock of hair from his forehead and held him, a quiet sense of happiness taking root within her.
ill woke to the strange presenceof his wife in his bed. He blinked his eyes open as a thin sliver of sunlight cut through the drapery of the windows. She was curled against his side as if she were a little cat. A handful of long blonde curls tickled his nose as he assessed the tableau before him.
Devil take it. He was actually in his wife’s chamber. He hadn’t returned to his. He had never, not once in his life, slept for the entire night with a woman. What the hell was the matter with him? One week in the country and he was noticing things like dust, housekeepers and footmen, and allowing the wife he hadn’t wanted to drape herself all over him and choke him with her wild hair. His right arm was even wrapped around her, anchoring her to his side as if it were where she belonged.
Christ.
Careful not to wake Victoria, he rescued his arm and raised a hand to pluck her curls from his face. They smelled like her sweet perfume. Damn if his cock didn’t harden at the scent. He wanted her again. With a muttered curse, he dropped her curls as though they were made of asps.
He had to escape her clutches, perhaps go for a head-clearing ride. He gently laid back his portion of the bedclothes and sat up. Then he made the mistake of glancing in his wife’s direction. She was still gloriously nude, lying on her side with her back to him. The position and the peeled-back coverlets provided him with a fair view of her pale, perfectly rounded backside. Even her back, small and curved into a dip at her narrow waist, appealed to him. Her hair was a riot of golden tresses tangled across both his pillow and hers.
Hispillow?
True, he supposed everything in the house was his, whether or not it had received an improvement from the marriage settlement. But he certainly didn’t want to get in the habit of thinking he belonged in her bedchamber unless it was for the sort of passion they’d shared the previous evening. After which he would bloody well leave.
A slow, steady ache took up fastidious residence in his skull. What had he been thinking to allow her to cozen him into making promises to her? By God, he had never made a promise to any woman.
An odd feeling lodged in his chest. Guilt. His wife was turning him into a saint. He wouldn’t have this. Not a bit of it. But her sweet bottom was certainly a tempting sight. His cock pointedly reminded him of that fact yet again. What was the harm in indulging in another bout of lovemaking? He longed to lose himself inside her wetness, fill her with his seed. Get her heavy with his child.
Sweet Jesus, his depravity truly knew no bounds, for the thought of her carrying his child made him even harder. This was not the proper order of things. Something was decidedly wrong with him. Making love to her wasn’t just a task he had taken on in the name of restoring his funds any longer. He’d lost sight of duty and necessity. It wasn’t even a game, a sharp blade to slice the ennui. It was sheer madness.
He leaned down, unable to stop himself from the folly, and kissed the arch of her bare shoulder. He flicked his tongue against her skin, tantalized by the smooth creaminess of her, the taste of sweetness mingled with a hint of salt. She made a breathy sound and rolled over onto her back. Not enough of the coverlet traveled with her, leaving one of her generous breasts peeking out at him. Her pink nipple pointed up, hard and ready for his mouth. He wanted to suck it until she bucked wildly against him as she had last night.
He gave in to temptation and cupped her breast in his palm, loving the way her nipple puckered and tightened against him. She truly was a gem. Perhaps there was something to be said after all for American ladies who wore seductive silks and walloped their husbands in the nose with fine English literature.
Will kissed her then before he lost complete control of his upper works. She was slow to wake, but after a bit of coaxing, she parted her lips and sighed into his mouth. Kissing her was a prelude to something he wanted much more than mere kissing. Unable to help himself, he pushed the obstruction of her coverlet away so that he could straddle her naked body. He needed to be inside her. His hands were on both her breasts, her fingers tangled in his hair, her petite limbs wrapped round his waist.
Ah, hell.If this was what living with his wife was like, he’d never leave. It seemed there were benefits to waking up in her bed. He skimmed his fingers down between their bodies to the juncture of her thighs and the prize he sought. Her cunny was already slick and ready for him. He flicked his thumb over the sensitive nub just the way he’d discovered she liked. Her body was incredibly responsive, jerking against him.
If he didn’t take her soon, he’d explode. He positioned himself at her entrance, raining kisses down over her throat, and thrust. All lucid thought fled his mind. His entire world became focused on losing himself in his wife’s luscious body. In and out he stroked, loving the throaty moans he produced from her lovely lips. He pumped at a fast pace, knowing from the heaviness of her breathing that she preferred her lovemaking to be deep and intense just the way he did.
Caught in the throes of heady desire, he almost didn’t hear her half sigh, half-whispered words.
“I love you.”
She loved him? Had he heard her aright? He couldn’t have, and she was still dazed with sleep. Surely she didn’t love him. Still, somehow her declaration had the opposite effect on him than it should have, because he was suddenly about to climax. Instantly. He couldn’t hold it in any longer. Throwing his head back like a conquering warrior, he spilled his seed inside her.
When he was finally spent, he rolled to the side and forced himself to get out of her bed before he decided to live there forever. Empathy was one thing, guilt another. But this inexplicable, unavoidable attraction he felt for her was becoming altogether unacceptable. He couldn’t allow it to rule his life. He had to remember that his primary focus was saving himself from financial ruin and not playing lovelorn suitor to his wife. The very wife the duke had chosen for him
“Will?”
Her sleepy voice called after him, her tone questioning. He hadn’t even looked at her in the aftermath of their lovemaking. He was afraid to, by God. He stalked across the chamber and recovered his discarded dressing gown. Perhaps he owed her an explanation for his boorish behavior this morning, but he had none. He was more bollixed up than he’d ever been in his admittedly bollixed life.
“Will?”
Christ. Her voice sounded unsteady. He turned to look at her as he stuffed his arms into his sleeves and knotted the belt at his waist. She had covered her beautiful body and appeared incredibly small in the large high tester. Her hair was still a halo of riotous curls around her face. She had told him she loved him, and he had embarrassed himself in response by coming as quickly as a lad having his first maid.
