“Morgan,” she repeated softly. “I wish for you to consummate our marriage.”
Damnation. He was going to spend in his breeches without even touching her. It had been madness to allow a week to pass. Madness to think waiting would enable him to control his raging impulse to claim her. He wanted inside her. Wanted to bury his cock inside her pink, slippery flesh and fill her with his seed.
To mark her as his.
Forever.
Four strides was all he required to reach her, and then, she was in his arms.
Chapter Five
Freddy had toldher to seduce Searle, and Leonora was sure she had not meant for her to merely blurt the wordsI wish for you to consummate our marriage. But she did not have long to wait to discover whether or not her embarrassing attempt at swaying her new husband had been successful. Because he was upon her.
There was really no other way to explain it. His hands were everywhere, a hot brand through her chemise, beginning at her waist, cupping her breasts, molding her bottom. He swept over her, leaving a trail of longing in his wake. As he touched her, his gaze traveled over her as well, scouring her flesh as surely as his touch.
The silence was heady, heavy. Somehow, his lack of words heightened the moment, making her every sense sing. Her breasts felt full and achy, the mound between her thighs throbbed and pulsed. She could smell the earthy scent of him, the bergamot of his tea lacing his breath. She had never been so aware of her body, so aware of her own need to be pleasured. Of another person’s capacity to fulfill that desperate longing.
He found her breasts again, cupping one, then rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger through the barrier of her chemise. When a gasp tore from her, he increased the pressure.
“Tell me if I hurt you,” he rasped.
His words took her by surprise, sending confusion skittering through her, along with a small tremor of alarm and a trill of something else, anticipation. His touch was firm but not rough. Pleasure tinged with an edge, just as he was. This man was dangerous, as she had thought all along, and she…shelikedit.
Craved it, in fact.
He pinched her nipples harder, then rubbed lazy, soothing circles over them with his thumbs. His eyes scorched her, the amber flecks alive and alight. He dipped his head toward her, running the blade of his nose along hers and inhaling deeply, as if she were something delicious he wanted to savor. But still, he did not kiss her.
His breath fell hot upon her lips, and she licked them, eager for this small part of him she could have. It shocked her to realize she was every bit as ravenous for Searle as he seemed for her.
He pinched again, until a small moan left her. And then he rubbed his lower lip along hers. Nothing more. “You like this.”
It was a statement, not a question. Because he could read her better than she could even understand herself. Pleasure and yearning were not new to her, but this—her reaction to the marquess and the way he seemed to anticipate what she wanted before she could even ask—took her by storm.
She swallowed. “Yes.”
A low sound, part growl, part groan, rumbled from deep within his broad chest. “You want this.”
Good heavens, yes.She wanted what he was doing and more. How odd it seemed, how incredibly awakening, for this beautiful man in his fully-clothed elegance, scarcely touching her, and yet so thoroughly consuming her. And he had still yet to kiss her.
Leonora nodded because she did not think she could speak. Her hands had landed upon his shoulders somehow in the aftermath of his seductive aggression, and her fingers tensed upon him now. He was warm, so very warm.
He released her nipples and caught her lower lip between his teeth, delivering a nip that stung yet was somehow tender at the same time. “You are mine, Leonora. No matter what happens. Regardless of what is to come beyond these walls and beyond this moment. You are mine forever.”
Yes, she was his now. It had not felt that way over the last week they had spent at daggers drawn, circling each other like duelists, afraid to make the first move. But it felt that way now, with him surrounding her with his hands on her body and…
He stepped into her, pressing his hard body against her softness. She felt something long and thick through the layers between them, and she knew what it was, what it meant, for Freddy had explained a great deal more to her mere hours before. He raked his teeth down her neck, and her head fell back of its own accord, desperate for whatever ravishment he would give. Teeth and lips and tongue. He sucked at her throat, beneath her ear, then lower, once more at the place where her shoulder met her neck. These were places she had never bothered to touch herself, skin that had never clamored to be touched until this man.
“Mine,” he said, finding her collarbone and biting. “Say the words, Leonora.”
When she hesitated, he bit again. Harder this time, and she was sure it would leave a mark. She did not care.
“I am yours,” she managed, breathless.
“Yes, you are.” His voice was dark and resonating, and it made something inside her flutter and then burst wide open.
Her leg pained her, but she was helpless to stop the reckless desire coursing through her. She would stand here with him all day, his mouth and hands upon her, his body burning into hers. She never wanted it to end, except she did. She wanted more. She wanted to be closer. She wanted nothing between them but skin.
The first time she had touched herself, she had not dared to do so directly. Rather, she had used her nightdress as a barrier to keep her shame from drowning her. In time, she had realized her nightdress was not necessary and that everything felt so much better without its encumbrance. She had no doubt Searle’s body and caresses would only be enhanced by the same removal of limitations.
