Triangulated points—his only guide. “Shall I ring for a maid to help you undress?”
“I’d rather…” She touched her tongue to her upper lip. “Well, don’tyouwish to help me?”
Sweet torture.
Bloody dammed challenge.
Hell, in fact, when all he wanted to do was strip her bare and plunder.
“Of course.” He’d be good.
As in all of this, when his other choices shriveled, Julia became his north.
She unhooked her velvet spencer. He slid the tight sleeves off her arms and folded the garment over the chair. She removed a white shalloon petticoat by pulling the garment over her head. Only half-stays covered her whisper-thin chemise.
Instead of the crisscross lacing he preferred, her stays wrapped fully around her ribs, tapering down to thin strips which knotted together in the front. Serviceable, as she’d described…but not entirely. Tiny bowed ribbons at each shoulder made a pretty, enticing touch.
And the garment displayed, rather than hid, her breasts, exposing a tantalizing hint of her dark nipples. Now that he had a wife whose breasts watered his mouth, he had a mind to design a corset specifically for his gratification and delight.
Finally…something to anticipate without reserve.
Holding his gaze, she unlaced the gathered neckline of her chemise. He removed her hands and drew them down against her sides.
“I’ll take things from here.” Holding her still, he kissed the spot beneath her ear that made her shiver. Then, he peeled down her bodice, reached beneath, and fully freed one puckered nipple.
“There you are.”
Her amused half-chuckle lifted her breasts as he indulged his first taste. He teased out one rosy nub, then the other, all while continuing to unwrap her like a prized gift.
He cast aside the outer garment, leaving only her chemise.
“Wait.” She trembled—a soft, pink petal in the wind. “Pleaseunderstand. I’ve touched you. We’ve done…other things—but I’m not sure how…” She blushed. “How we are going to fit.”
Still—after all the time they’d spent luxuriating in each other’s flesh?
He could tell her…anything. His filthiest thoughts, and she would think them the way of things between a husband and wife.
He could.
But he wouldn’t.
“We’ll fit. Trust me?”
She nodded.
Slowly, he removed his coat. She could trust him in this. Just as he could trust her wide-eyed wonder. Strange how trust could change a man.
She warmed as he murmured soothing words—posies to her allure, oaths and covenants he had no right to speak.
She raised her arms when he directed. He removed her chemise, then lifted her against his chest. Slight weight—but one he would carry from now until death both metaphorically and in fact.
But now was not the time for such thoughts. Thoughts wouldn’t see him through this. Thoughts couldn’t help him survive the torture of making her bleed.
How mutton-headed he’d been—boasting how he wished to rip her maidenhead. Games of dominance piqued and honed his lust, but to harm her in truth?Never.
What she was giving—what he would take—both were essential parts of a deeper, growing bond. A bond he didn’t understand. However, with faith, he handed the reins to the one thing between them that never failed to guide—sensation.
He set her against the pillows and then divested waistcoat, trousers, and stockings. Power rippled through his muscles as he pulled his shirt over his head. In contrast, her small chest rose and fell in quickening pants.
