“How is this?” he asked quietly.
His manner had shifted, and he was now intent, his regard stealing her breath. “I’m afraid it’s not much of an improvement.”
He startled her by splaying a hand over her stomach. “How about this?”
His touch slowly glided upward in a caress. His bare skin was upon hers wherever the ends of her gaping night rail parted. She swallowed hard against a sudden rush of need.
“It would have been preferable if you hadn’t torn my gown to shreds.”
“It’s not shredded. But I daresay it’s not worth repairing either.” His gaze was upon her body, watching the progression of his hand as if he were observing someone else, removed from the action.
His hand crept to her breast, and she inhaled sharply, startled when his fingers gently traveled along the swell. He said nothing else, simply concentrated his efforts there, caressing herleft breast over the thin barrier of fabric whilst she clung to it, keeping the night rail in place as best as she could.
She hadn’t expected to enjoy his touch.
Not after everything that had happened. It was one thing to objectively admire his masculine beauty and quite another to enjoy his hand on her. But she did. Her nipple ached, and her breast tingled. A longing unfurled deep within her.
“How is this?” he asked, his voice a deep and pleasant rumble.
“What are you doing?” she asked instead of answering his question, because there was no need for the rotten man to know the truth.
His arrogance already knew no bounds.
“Touching you.”
“Yes, but why?”
“To prepare you for what’s to come. Now, do hush and allow me to attend to my husbandly duties.”
She held herself stiffly, turning her gaze back to the ceiling because looking at him hurt. He was so handsome, so impossible, so wrong for her. She had never believed it possible to feel the depth of emotion she had already experienced for this man, and she wasn’t certain she would be capable of remaining impervious if forced to endure his attentions for a prolonged period of evenings.
“I hope you get me with child tonight,” she muttered.
“Maybe I will, but we won’t know immediately.” He stroked her breast idly, the pressure light. “You can expect me again tomorrow night.”
A fire lit deep within her. At his words, at his touch. In truth, his hand on her felt lovely. Her nipple was more sensitive than she had ever realized, aching and tightening into a pointed tip. His soft caresses felt like they weren’t nearly enough. She wanted…something. But she didn’t know precisely what.
“And every night thereafter until the desired outcome is reached,” he added.
Then he dragged her night rail away, revealing the curve of one breast. Before she could shield herself, his head dipped, and he took the peak into his mouth, sucking. The wet, velvet heat was astonishing but thrilling also. Even more shocking, she felt the suction between her legs in a throb that came to life in her most intimate place.
Shelikedit.
But of course she did, curse him. Was he not a rake, particularly practiced in the art of seduction? Yes, he was. And she had known that about him, and it hadn’t concerned her until he had abandoned her.
The thought cooled her ardor.
She pushed at his head—and none too gently. “Enough. You’re deliberately prolonging this to torture me.”
He rose over her, supporting himself on one forearm, scowling as he did so. “Madam, this is the proper order of things, I can assure you.”
“Fine.” She waved a hand airily toward him as if she hadn’t a care, when in truth she had to summon all the confidence and daring she possessed to keep her breast bared to him. “Do what you must. I shall try to nap.”
“Nap?”
He sounded horrified.
Good. Perhaps she had wounded his pride. She certainly hoped so.
