It was an invitation, and he accepted. He caught the fleshy lobe of her ear in his teeth, then traced the whorl with his tongue before licking the hollow until she moaned, her legs parting beneath the skirt of her gown to allow him to press himself more fully against her. How badly he wanted to be inside her. To sink his aching prick into the drenched grip of her cunny. He needed it more than his next breath.
And yet, his conscience chose that moment to return.
Too soon, it said.
Not here. Not now. Not yet.
With great reluctance, he removed his mouth from her skin and raised his head, putting an end to the madness that had overcome him.
“If we do not stop, I will have you on this table,” he confessed, his voice raw with a commingling of passion and emotion.
He had sensed her acquiescence. She wanted him every bit as much as he wanted her, but he would not take her this way. He wanted her to come to him, for the choice to be hers alone. It had to be that way, because of what her previous husband had done to her, robbing her of the right to choose her own path with his malicious deceptions.
Her eyes fluttered open, confusion making shadows in the hazel orbs. Her lips were swollen and dark with his kisses, parted. Her breathing as ragged as his.
“Oh my,” she said at last, appearing to collect herself somewhat.
He could hardly blame her. They both had been transported to a different time and place, when everything had been so much simpler between them. When they had been free to kiss and court and love each other. Before Shaw’s meddlesome interference.
“Oh my indeed,” he repeated, catching a chestnut tendril that had fallen loose from her coiffure and tucking it behind her ear. “Our breakfast will grow cold, and you must eat.”
“Breakfast.” She blinked. “Yes, of course. The omelet. We must ring for a servant to clean up the carpets before a stain sets in. And your shoe…”
“To the devil with my shoe and to hell with the Axminster,” he said. “You matter far more than either of them. Are you…well?”
It had never been his intention to nearly ravish her on the breakfast table. That he had almost done so was no credit to him. His question was truly asking whether or not he had frightened her with the intensity of his desire. He did not think he had, judging from her response. However, he was treading with the utmost of caution where she was concerned.
“I am.” Her gaze lowered to his neck, her fingers tugging at his opened neck cloth. “I fear I have ruined the knot and left you looking suspiciously ruffled.”
“What a pair we make then, for you are lookingdeliciouslyruffled,” he could not resist teasing.
Her gown’s bodice was not askew, though it was gaping in such a fashion that allowed him full view of the small, pert mounds of her breasts within her corset. Her clothing and undergarments were ill-fitting, which suggested she had not recently been as dainty as she now was. He tried to look away and play the gentleman, but not before he spied a glimpse of perfectly pink nipples.
God, to have them in his mouth.
He ought to have undone her bodice before putting an end to this.
He would happily cast himself to perdition for the chance to suck on those tempting buds and slip his hand beneath her skirts.
“I do not ordinarily conduct myself in such a shameless fashion,” she said, her cheeks going pink.
He had not meant to shame her. He loved her this way.Hell, he loved heranyway, but she was a far cry from her customary, reserved self, and he could not be happier that she had finally lowered her guard enough to let him in. Even if for this moment and no more.
“I hope you are not apologizing,” he said, fumbling with the knot on his neck cloth as he attempted to tie it once more. “If anyone should apologize, it is me. Only, I do not want to. Those kisses were exquisite, as you are.”
Her fingers were upon his, the glance she sent him suddenly shy. “I can fix this, if you will allow it?”
“Of course.” He dropped his hands to his sides and held still as she made steady, calm motions, righting the neck cloth.
Damn it, but he continued to enjoy an excellent view down her dress. He ought to look away. A gentleman would. He allowed himself another few seconds of gawking before returning his attention to her countenance. She was a study in concentration as her fingers worked in nimble, smooth motions. The knot tightened, and she tucked it into place, her fingertips grazing his bare skin in the whisper of a caress as she did so.
“There you are,” she said softly.
Their gazes met once more and held.
It was the first time he had truly felt like her husband since their abrupt ceremony yesterday morning, and the feeling was a good one.
“Thank you,” he told her, forcing himself to step away and then offering her a hand.
