And she was still wearing her night rail, whilst he remained impeccably dressed in his robe.
How easily he made her come undone. But she was already too far gone to care. Not even the brightness of the lights, nor the fragility of her frame, nor the specter of the past, could affect her now.
He released her nipple with a lusty, wet sound, and rose to his full height, his expression slack with desire. “Damn, Sunshine. That was incredible.”
Incredible did not begin to describe the power of her release and its decadent aftermath.
She struggled for her breath, for words. There were none.
“Mmm,” she offered instead, a delirious hum of approval.
The possibility was very strong that she may never speak another sensible word after this night. Especially if her husband did more of…that.
And it appeared as if he was intent upon doing so, for he removed his fingers from between her thighs, allowing her night rail’s hem to drop back into place, and took her hand in his. “Come, darling. I want you to see yourself as I do, to watch as I pleasure you this time.”
Shehadwatched. She had been looking down at his lips against her, his teeth on her, until she had been out of her mind and her eyelids had fluttered closed. Until she had given herself up to the pure glory of sensation.
But before she could protest, Roland had guided her across the carpets until she stood before the looking glass. And then she began to understand he intended a different manner of watching.
The relentless pull of her release still had her feeling at sixes and sevens, as if at any moment, she might flit away, into the clouds.
He guided her around the bench placed before the dressing table. “Sit, darling.”
She did.
And then he moved to the looking glass, which was attached to the table and capable of being slanted to such an angle that…
Oh good heavens.
He tilted the mirror so it included not just her expression, but the floor at her feet as well. And then he sank to his knees before her, his hands on her thighs. She found herself mesmerized by the view of him. His dark hair—worn too long and tousled, those inky, black waves calling for her fingers to run through them. His wide shoulders, the strength of his back. The perfect delineation of his bottom, the soles of his feet.
The heat of him stole through her night rail, singeing her. His gaze drew hers back from her admiration of his form.
“Time to make you come on my tongue, Sunshine.”
His low decree forced a whimper from her throat. Not from fear, but from desperate, confused yearning. What did he mean to do? Surely not what her wicked mind supposed?
Whatever it was he intended to do, she wanted it. She wanted him, and quite desperately, too. And he was about to deliver if the intensity of his expression was any indication.
He caressed from her thighs down to her ankles, where the modest hem of her gown brushed against her bare skin. He slid his fingers beneath that hem, over her ankles and calves, up the outsides of her knees, taking the fabric with him as he went. Along her outer thighs, all the way to her hips. His gaze never left hers. His hands swept across her bare skin, caressing, filling her with fire and longing. He touched her so sweetly, so tenderly, fingertips gently kneading into her flesh.
“Open your legs for me,” he urged, his tone part command, part plea.
He wanted this as badly as she did, and the knowledge was heady. Potent.
His hands found her inner thighs. She parted them, opening herself to him completely. His gaze left hers for the first time, dipping to the skin he had revealed. He pulled her to the edge of the cushioned bench and pushed the fabric of her night rail higher still, until she was completely on display.
“Like this?” she asked, somehow finding her tongue.
An inner brazen streak she had not known she possessed had emerged. She felt no shame in the cool air washing over her bare flesh, nor in his gaze, hungrily devouring her. There was a heightened awareness hovering between them. A tacit acknowledgment they had progressed to the next stage of their journey together. There was no place for polite manners here. No time for the past. There was only Pippa and Roland, and so much desire, so much need.
“Wider,” he growled, keeping his hands on her knees, his touch working over them, making her wetter still.
She obeyed, sliding her legs apart even more.
“Tell me what you want,” Roland said.
Oh.He was going to make her work for the pleasure, was he?
