He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. This moment felt larger than the both of them, the beginning and the end and the middle, all at once. While the raging beast within him hungered for her as he never had wanted another, he knew he had to proceed with caution. To treat her with the respect and care she deserved.
“We are married now, Violet, but I want it to be clear between us, you need not feel obligated to share my bed this evening. Our union is new and sudden, and Lord knows I am not worthy of you or the sacrifice you made for me. I shall not fault you if you tell me to go to the devil.”
Please, please do not tell me to go to the devil,he added silently.
For he did not think he could bear going to bed without her for one more night. But neither would he rush her. She was worth the wait. Worth any wait, however long.
“I do not want you to go.” Her cheeks flushed as she made the admission.
“No?” Unable to repress his relief, he smiled, closing the distance between them.
The scent of roses hit him right in the heart.
She shook her head slowly. “No.”
Thank fuck.
He was not sure which one of them moved first. Mayhap it was Violet, mayhap it was him. All he did know was, in the next breath, she was in his arms, precisely where she belonged. He held her to him tightly, dipping his head to take her lush lips for his own. This kiss knew no restraint. It was wild and wanton and wicked. A marriage of tongues. It was wet, open-mouthed, hungry, and unabashed.
This kiss said she was his and he was hers.
This kiss changed him, rattled him, cut straight through to his very marrow.
He kissed down her throat, worshiping the creamy, smooth skin, inhaling deeply as he went. Roses, Violet, his, all his, and so lovely. She made a soft sound of surrender, her breath catching as he kissed his way to the place where her neck and shoulder met.
And suddenly, it wasn’t enough. He gently bit her there, just a soft nip of her flesh, the scrape of his teeth and beard on her. He found the vee in her dressing gown and pulled, dragging it down to her waist so his hands could travel unencumbered over more skin. Nothing but skin, softer than silk, warm and supple.
Christ, she didn’t have a nightdress on beneath the robe. Not one single stitch of fabric. What a revelation. He kissed the delicate curve of her shoulder and then paused in his mouth’s tour of her beautiful body so he could see what he had revealed.
Her breasts were full and round, easily enough to fill his hands and then some, her nipples the same rosy pink as her well-kissed lips, standing erect. Calling for him. With shaking hands, he cupped her.
A groan tore from him. He had scarcely even touched her, and already he was ready, blood singing in his veins, ballocks aching, cockstand almost painful. “My God, Violet, you are beautiful.”
“Ara offered me a nightdress in addition to the dressing gown, but I did not want to borrow one.” Her voice was hesitant, halting. “I…I hope I have not shocked you.”
How could she believe for one moment he would be anything but delighted by the sight of her, glorious and nude, before him? Clearly, he needed to devote himself to worshiping her this night, to showing her just how gorgeous and perfect she was. Just how much he wanted her.
“Never,” he reassured her. “This,you, are a gift. The best gift I have ever received.”
He dipped his head and kissed down the creamy arc of one breast, gratified when she sighed and arched her back, presenting herself to him like an offering. He flicked his tongue over the tautened bud of her nipple, playing over it until it was puckered and wet, and then he sucked, drawing it into his mouth deep.
“Oh, Griffin. Oh my.” Her fingers sifted through his hair.
He caught her between his teeth and gave a tender tug.
She moaned, her grip on him tightening. It felt good, so good. He scraped his whiskers along her inner breast, rubbing his face up and down between the twin swells, and even here, she smelled sweet and floral and delicate. Like something he could devour. So devour he did, seeking out her other nipple, running his tongue in a teasing circle around it, again and again.
Slow and steady whorls, pinching her other nipple between his thumb and forefinger at the same time. Her breaths became small, ragged pants. She moaned again, low and husky, and the sound settled in his ballocks. He needed to be inside her, so deep. He needed her body beneath his, welcoming him, bathing him in heat and wetness.
“Please, Griffin,” she begged, as he continued to torture them both.
He loved how responsive she was for him. How in tune with her own need for pleasure, how greedy she became, desperate for release. She was enough to set him aflame, even half-clothed and standing upright in the midst of a room.
“Please what, spitfire?” he could not resist asking, glancing up at her to find her watching him from beneath lowered lashes, her kiss-swollen lips parted. “Tell me.”
“Take me in your mouth,” she whispered.
Those words, coming from Violet, were nearly his undoing. The breath fled him, and it required every bit of his self-discipline not to take her up in his arms right then and throw her upon the bed to have his wicked way with her.
