Her arms wrapped tightly around his waist, and he felt the hot kiss of her breath on his neck as she exhaled. “You were weeping.”
Ah, she had seen his wet cheeks, then. He had been hoping she would not take note. He buried his face in her hair, the soft tangles smelling sweetly of her. Lily of the valley and Elysande. Love and promise and hope. What would he have done if he had lost her?
He could not bear to think about it now. She was here, soft and warm and wonderful in his arms. She was his, and he was hers.
“I was feeling a bit overwhelmed this morning,” he admitted, for once unashamed of his vulnerability. “I watched you sleep and thought about what a gift today is, that we are here together.”
Alive.
He did not say the last. It was unnecessary.
Her lips moved on his neck, and for the first time since their terrible adventure the night before, his cock stirred.
“Together,” she repeated against his greedy skin.
The rush of need thundering through him took him by surprise. He was suddenly ravenous for her. Why the hell had he dressed? Why had he even spared a thought for coffee and stupid bloody eggs?
All he wanted was to lie in this bed with this woman, to hold her in his arms, to slip inside her. To stay there forever if he could.
As was always the case with Elysande, she seemed to know what he needed before he did. She pulled at his coat, and he disentangled from her long enough to shuck it off. He wanted—needed—for there to be no barriers between them.
His fingers fumbled on the buttons of his waistcoat. “Damn it.”
He was trembling with the furor of his emotions. Everything he had managed to tamp down last night unleashed now, a raging waterfall.
“Yes,” she said. “Why are you wearing so much dratted clothing?”
“Hell if I know.” Breakfast had never seemed more superfluous than when his beautiful wife was awake and deliciously rumpled in bed. When he could join her there.
“Let me.” She dropped the bedclothes and reached for his buttons, brushing his ineffectual fingers aside.
He had a brief, inviting view of her breasts, pale and full and pink-tipped, her chestnut curls trailing over the delectable swells. But she was at work. His waistcoat parted, then disappeared, whisked somewhere over his shoulder. She leaned into him, kissing his jaw.
Which of them was the seducer and which the seduced? He could not say. It hardly mattered. Nothing mattered but her.
He tore at his shirt, feeling more alive than he ever had. And desperate. But Elysande was there, with her calm, measured movements. With her rosebud lips curved in a knowing smile.
Words had never been more inadequate, but he felt he should say something. To explain himself lest his inglorious display somehow alarm her. He was not ordinarily such a voracious beast.
“Ellie.” Her name, a prayer torn from him as she plucked more buttons from their moorings and his shirt came undone. “I need you more than I need another breath.”
An exaggeration, but true. He felt it down to his bones, this all-consuming yearning for her. Nothing had ever been so strong. So right. So real. He had almost lost her. The reminder was there, a flame burning steadily beneath the surface.
He had almost lost this incredible woman.
He swallowed down a knot. His shirt was gone, and then he rose from the bed to remove his trousers as well. To his surprise, she joined him, all pale, elegant curves. Her waist was the perfect place for his hands, and he set them there, caressing her silken warmth as she opened the placket of his trousers and slid them down his hips. His smalls came next, pooling to the floor.
He stepped out of them, his cock springing high between them.
Elysande sank to her knees.
“You do not need…” His words ended on a groan as her tongue traveled down his length.
“I do need,” she said, glancing up at him with a minx’s smile as she grasped him at the root.
Her hand wrapped around him and the flick of her tongue on his cock head was enough to make his knees nearly buckle. He caught a handful of sweet-scented chestnut curls, wanting to hold her there, to thrust his cock down her throat, yet needing to be gentle. To allow her to have her way with him.
And have her way, she did. Those perfect pink lips parted, and she took him into her mouth.
