There were so many things he could say. The words rushed to him, clamoring on his tongue.
“That is my hope as well,” he told her thickly instead of revealing the full extent of his thoughts.
His response appeared to be enough, for she nodded and continued performing his ablutions for him. Slowly, tantalizingly.
Deliciously.
Her hand slid lower, the cloth traveling down his chest, across his belly. Anticipation rose, along with the almost feral urge to have her hands upon him. Until he forcefully reminded himself of the need to maintain his control.
“Helena,” he growled in warning as the cloth moved to his thighs, in suspicious proximity to his erect prick.
He had to put an end to this before they both went too far. What was he thinking, to allow her to tend to him so intimately? To allow her to…
The cloth floated to the top of the water. He inhaled sharply as her knowing hand, already so adept at bringing him pleasure, grasped his cock. She stroked him from root to tip.
Yes, crooned the devil within as his ballocks drew taut with the need for release. A miracle, truly, for he had been making love to his wife every night since consummating their marriage.Yes, yes, and more yes.
Her thumb swirled over his cockhead.All the yeses, in fact.
He groaned, his hips jerking. Their prodigious amount of lovemaking only made him more randy.
“I love touching you,” she murmured, her voice throaty. Laden with wicked invitation.
How was it that a woman so new to pleasure already could lay him low with more proficiency than a practiced courtesan?
“Helena, I meant to give you the evening to yourself,” he gritted.
She stroked him again, her grasp tightening. “What if I do not want the evening to myself?”
Curse this beautiful, maddening woman he had wed who was all the things he should not want. Outspoken, rebellious, fiery, independent. Sensual. Because he was beginning to fear that she could prove to be everything he would ever want, now and forever.
“Devil take it, woman,” he growled, standing abruptly, warm bath water traveling down his body in rivulets. “I have had quite enough of this bath for one night.”
She rose to her full height, which was almost even with his when they were both standing. He liked that about her—how tall she was, those long, luscious legs…
“I was not finished,” she dared to protest.
“On the contrary.” He grinned when he spied the exact moment her gaze settled upon his cockstand. “It would seem we are only just beginning.”
Chapter Nineteen
What we seek is not so different from that which man has sought. Nor are we any less worthy of calling it ours.
—FromLady’s Suffrage Society Times
Helena could notwrest her gaze from the sight of Gabe standing tall, proud, and nude in the bath. And erect. Her eyes dipped to the thick protrusion of his manhood, jutting upward, stiff and proud. That part of him, like the rest, was beautiful. She wanted to worship him there, to take him in her mouth.
In truth, she wanted to worship all of him, this man she loved. This man she had married. This man who looked at her as if she were the most glorious, seductive creature he had ever beheld.
The sudden surge of possession within her took Helena by surprise. He was hers. Even if he was difficult to understand. Even if he was a lover who scorched her with his passion by night and turned into a polite stranger by day. The dichotomy was not lost upon her. But what she relished in this moment was that she had pushed the polite stranger he had been at breakfast and dinner, the man who had urged her to go to bed without him, over the edge.
There was no denying she had an effect upon him.
He wanted her.
Triumph soared, lifting her hopes along with it.
Her stare reluctantly returned to his, traveling up his well-muscled planes, lingering over all his sinew and maleness. Their stares met and held, his filled with so much heat, every part of her tingled in response.
