Emboldened, she skimmed her fingers across his cheek and jaw, tracing the hard contours of his handsome face before trailing them down his linen-covered chest. The desire to feel his flesh drove her wild.
He broke free of her lips, trailing kisses down her face to her throat. He sucked and nibbled her tender flesh as he loosened the ties of her nightgown. Pushing the white muslin from her shoulders, he uncovered her body inch by inch as his lips burned a track ever lower until he captured one of her nipples.
When he suckled the tender nub, passion fully engulfed her. She shoved her hands into his hair to hold him in place as she writhed beneath him, a moan escaping from her throat.
Caleb moved his mouth to her other breast, where he continued to lathe and suckle, sending her into utter turmoil. He reached lower, skimming his fingers over her belly, across her hips, and between her thighs, sending pulses of sensual delight through her.
As he stroked her tenderest of flesh, she sighed his name. He lifted his head, gazing at her with emblazoned brown eyes.
She wanted to stop him, to tell him the truth, but in that moment, he blanketed her mouth with his once more. The next second, his hand was between her thighs, caressing her, stoking the flames that threatened to reduce her to cinders.
The pleasure and need were so dizzying, so intense, she would have done anything to keep him where he was. She tugged and pulled at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin on hers.
Caleb broke their connection to pull his shirt over his head and remove his trousers. Then, in an instant, his hot, slick skin pressed to hers. She dropped kisses on his throat, reveling in the salty taste of him and craving still more.
Driven by an unstoppable force, she allowed herself to explore his body, running her hands down his chest, across his stomach. The urgency she felt was far stronger than she could have imagined. The sensations intensified tenfold from their previous encounter.
She took hold of him, molding her fingers to his erection—wanting to give him everything.
He covered her mouth in an all-consuming kiss before positioning himself between her thighs. As he pushed into her, she arched up, wanting all of him.
White-hot pain shot through her, replacing all of the pleasure that had been there moments before.
Caleb went rigid, his only movement the ticking of his jaw.
Jane lay beneath him, heart pounding, eyes wide.
He eased out of her, then quit the room without a backwards glance.
Her heart sank like a millstone. How could he simply walk away? Did she mean so little to him?
Caleb sat at a corner table at White’s, a tumbler of scotch in his hand. Luvington and the Duke of Goldstone sat with him, but he could not keep his mind off Jane long enough to pay his friends any attention.
It mattered not that Jane had still been intact. He’d compromised her all the same simply by being in her room all those nights ago. Still, it mattered a great deal because, had he known, he could have spared her the pain he caused this evening—spared himself the torment he had felt since their first encounter.
Why the devil had she kept something so important from him? Had she purposefully entrapped her? He did not believe so. Perhaps she had feared he would not marry her if he knew the truth.
He emptied the contents of his tumbler in one long drink before signaling for another. He had no doubt hurt her further by storming away, but what was he to do? He wanted her too damn badly to stay.
Had he remained, the thread of control that kept him from thrusting into her again would have snapped. He would have indulged his passions, ravishing her completely. Had he known of her maiden state, he would have moved slower, shielding her from excess pain and building her desire to a fever-pitch. He would have eased her into their joining rather than ripping into her tender body.
There was nothing for it. He had been a brut tonight and, after the way he rushed to join with her, it would have been too uncomfortable for her if he’d continued. She would have found no pleasure in the act.
Caleb lifted a fresh glass and emptied its contents in one long drink. The scotch burned a familiar trail down his throat and into his belly, but it did nothing to either improve his mood or settle his thoughts.
Luvington pinned Caleb beneath his gaze. “Whatever has you so surly tonight?”
“And why the devil are you here when you have a new bride at home?” the Duke of Goldstone put in.
Caleb, lifting a fresh glass, looked between his friend’s bemused stares. “Perhaps the two of you should explain why you are not at home with your own wives rather than concerning yourselves with mine.”
With a self-satisfied grin, Goldstone spoke first. “Amelia and Sarah are spending time together. As you know, the duchess and I spend most of our time at the ducal estate in Scotland. When we do come to London, she prefers to catch up with her friends rather than spend time with me, leaving me mostly to my own devices.”
“There you have it, old chap,” Luvington said. “Our wives are otherwise engaged. What of yours?”
Caleb exhaled a bated breath. “It appears I have made a hash of my marriage.”
“How?” Luvington arched an eyebrow.
