He seemed to take that as permission. His mouth moved lower, across her throat, leaving slow, open-mouthed kisses that made her toes curl in her shoes. His fingers worked at the laces of her stays with infuriating patience until they came loose, and then he took off her chemise.
Cool air hit her skin, cupping the swell of her breasts, his thumbs brushing across the peaks until she gasped.
“Ye’re shakin’,” he said roughly, almost in wonder.
“Ye started it,” she shot back, breathless.
And then his mouth followed, his stubble rasping deliciously against her breast as he tasted the newly bared skin. Iris’ hand flew to the back of his neck, clutching him there without even meaning to. A sound escaped her, low and startled and nothing like the proper lady she was supposed to be.
His free hand slid over the curve of her hip, gripping firmly before trailing down to the back of her thigh. When he hitched her leg against his, pressing her closer, heat shot straight through her middle, making her gasp. His thumb swept lower, teasing her, and Iris was trembling with need. She barely recognized the sound she made when he finally cupped her naked body and carried her to the bed.
Iris felt herself growing wetter by the second, arousal thrumming through her veins. He bent his head then, trailing kisses down her throat, over her collarbone, leaving a path of fire wherever he went. She gasped when he dropped to one knee before her, his hands sliding down her hips, pushing her legs higher.
He pressed his mouth to the inside of her knee, then higher, until heat pooled low in her belly and her fingers tangled desperately in his hair.
“Elijah,” she gasped, half plea, half warning.
He glanced up, his expression wicked, reverent, starving. He pressed one last, slow kiss to the sensitive skin of her thigh before rising again, his chest heaving.. She felt the hard ridge of his arousal against her as he pulled her close, and her nails duginto his back with every kiss he gave her, every rough sweep of his mouth.
He worshipped her body.
Elijah seemed to sense her urgency, his touch turning more purposeful. He pushed her thighs apart to make room for his bulk. Iris whimpered as she felt the thick length of his manhood slide against her slick folds, pulsing with need. She wanted him inside her, wanted to feel him stretching her open and filling her up until she was screaming his name.
But Elijah seemed determined to drive her wild, grinding his shaft against her wet folds with purposeful strokes. Iris cried out, hands scrabbling for the sheets as pleasure sparked through her core. Her hips bucked up to meet his, desperate for more friction.
“I want to taste ye,” he growled.
Iris could only whimper in response as Elijah lowered his head. The first swipe of his tongue against her most sensitive flesh had her seeing stars, legs clamping around his head. He didn’t let that deter him; if anything, it seemed to spur him on.
He licked and sucked at her like a starving man at a feast, long strokes followed by fluttering flicks against her aching clit. Iris panted and moaned above him, hands fisted in the sheets as he drove her higher and higher. She could feel the tension coiling in her core, growing tighter with each pass of his tongue.
And then he closed his lips around her sensitive spot and sucked hard, and Iris was flying apart with a sharp cry. Pleasure crashed over her in waves as she came against his mouth, back arching clear off the bed.
“Elijah, please. I want to feel ye inside me.”
He raised his head. “Nay, lass. I want to take it slow with ye. Make ye properly ready. If I take ye now, I will devour ye. I want ye to ken what ye will have for the rest of our lives.”
Elijah continued pleasuring her, working her through it, continuing to lick and suck until she was a boneless, trembling mess beneath him. Only then did he pull back, face damp with her essence and a thoroughly self-satisfied smirk on his handsome face.
“Do ye believe me now?” Elijah asked softly, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her bare shoulder. “About how beautiful ye are. About how much I want ye.”
She was quiet for a long moment, processing everything that had happened. “I’m beginning to,” she said finally.
“Good. Because I intend to remind ye every day for the rest of our lives.”
As she drifted off to sleep in her husband’s arms, Iris found herself thinking about how much had changed since that firstday when she’d marched into the great hall. And how more satisfying being Elijah Craig’s wife was becoming every day.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“What if he would have preferred her?”
The words escaped Iris’ lips before she could stop them, echoing in the quiet library. She sat curled in the window seat, a book forgotten in her lap, her mind spinning with thoughts of last night.
Elijah’s hands on her skin. His mouth claiming hers. The way he’d whispered that she was beautiful, that he was glad he’d married her instead of Lydia.
But what if he was wrong? What if he’d only said those things because Lydia wasn’t there to compare?
She’s prettier than me. Everyone kens it.
