Really, someone ought to have thought this through.
As though he knew what she was thinking, he drew her skirts further up her thighs, revealing her legs to the cool air.Or perhaps the air was warm, and it was her that was burning up.
He toyed with the top of her stockings. “While these are delightful,” he murmured, “I really think we could dispense with their services.”
“I’m wearing a dress, stays and a chemise, and your priority is my stockings?” Unable to help herself, she grinned up at him, her chest bursting with such fierce adoration she half thought her heart would explode with the force of feeling. “Of everything I’m wearing, I mind those the least.”
There was a wicked twinkle in his eyes that made her stomach twist with anticipation. “Oh, I intend on removing it all.”
“Soon?”
“Impatient, my muse?” He used the name as an endearment, as though the memory of their first joining brought him only pleasure. “Half the joy comes in the anticipation.”
“We have had five months of it.” To prove her point, she tightened her legs around his waist, holding him to her as he had been before. In a different bed, certainly—far less grand—but the feeling was the same.
Consumed.
There was a slight growl to his voice as he said, “Today, I want to worship you as you deserve to be worshipped.”
Well, Theo couldn’t complain atthat.
He moved torturously slowly, as though his entire being was focused on the feeling of his lips against hers, the slow sweep of his tongue; an endless provocation, calling to mind all the other things he could do if he had but the inclination.
And the fire that had remained banked within Theo grew stronger with every movement of his mouth, with the soft travel of his hands down her body, starting from her shoulders and trailing down her arms to her waist, her legs, exploring the skin just above her stockings. His fingers toyed with the laceand silk almost idly, as though he barely noticed what he was doing.
It transpired Theocouldargue at the idea of being worshipped if it involved so little touching.
“Nathanial,” she groaned as he kissed her again, leisurely, as though they had all the time in the world. “Please.”
His lips curved against her mouth. “Say it again.”
“Please.”
His smile was all delight and desire that made her catch her breath. “Your wish is my command, Your Grace.”
Never had those words taken on a more sensual meaning.
This time, when he kissed her, it was with the edge of intention, and she responded in kind, running her hands along his chest, avoiding his wound, to his stomach, and further down, to his breeches and the bulge that she knew now was an expression of desire just for her. It twitched under her curious fingers, and he groaned.
“Lord, Theo,” he said, and there was no sensual promise in his voice now. It was raw and full of need, and he ripped off his cravat, then his waistcoat, followed shortly after by his shirt, tugged over his head with such impatience it stoked the fire in Theo’s stomach. It was the first time she had seen his wound in weeks, and she sat up now, her gaze fixed on his shoulder.
He caught his breath, holding it as she reached out and touched the puckered skin. His eyes were dark and heavy on her face. “Does it hurt?” she asked.
“Very little.”
She had almost lost him; the wound would never heal, and she was, in a way, relieved. They would never forget what they had been through, and what they had gained by his recovery and everything that had happened since.
She didn’t want to forget. Not the pain or the joy that had followed after.
Would her happiness now be as potent if she hadn’t suffered the pain of loss and despair? They had fought for this moment, and it was all the sweeter for it.
“Theo,” he said quietly.
“I love you,” she said. He stiffened. “Every inch, Nate.”
His hand came up to cup hers, holding it against the wound. “I would do it all again,” he murmured.
Before she could cry during their joining—three for three really would be unacceptable—she kissed him. Tenderly, cupping his face in her hands as he pulled her closer. His arms wrapped around her, holding her against him, and this time she felt no impatience.
