Chapter Thirty-two
Thump, thump, thump . . .
A pounding rhythm pulsed through her body, echoing her heart. She was equal parts ready, and not. Half thrilled, half scared, glorying in the moment, and worrying over it, all at once. How she could divide herself so equally, and with such opposition, was unknown, but it was the truth.
It was folly, because as soon as Ramsey—her husband—how she loved the way it sounded—kissed her, everything but need vanished. But when he wasn’t kissing her, fear crept in.
Because she had very little experience, and no real knowledge on how to go about . . . it.
And while she was quite certain he would make the experience fantastic for her, she wanted to be able to return the favor, and that is why she was hesitant, because what if she couldn’t please him as he pleased her?
“Grace.” He whispered her name, and she licked her lips. A smile teased her face as she thought back over to how it all started with the same instinct. And how so much had changed since then.
“Grace.” He whispered again, stepping toward her. Upon arrival in the bedroom he’d set her on her feet, then moved to lock the door. He was now closing that distance, one step at a time. His gaze was hungry, full of desire and unspoken promises of pleasure. Her body hummed with the want of it, the fear thawing slowly in the warmth of her desire. The way he looked at her, it was music, it was glory, it made her not only feel beautiful but it made her feel . . . enough.
How could such a common word mean so much, and carry so deep a resonation in her soul?Enough.It was all she had ever wanted to be. Ladylike enough that she wouldn’t be a disgrace, clever enough not to fail her tutors, dance well enough not to be a disaster . . . enough. But when her husband’s gaze lingered on her, as if cataloguing every nuance of her face, her expression, and her body, it was as if she was not only enough, but perfect, at least to him.
And she decided that all the time she thought she only wanted to be enough, she actually just wanted to be enough for someone, the right one. For him.
Ramsey.
“Your mind is spinning, isn’t it?” he asked, reaching up and tucking a curl behind her ear.
“Maybe,” Grace replied, sighing softly. Why was she always so easy to read?
“I love that I can gather your thoughts just by gazing at your face. Your expressions are my favorite book, and I cannot wait to spend the rest of my life reading it.”
Grace blinked, her lips dropping open slightly. “That is quite possibly the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”
“It’s only the truth, though I’m pleased you find it romantic.” He lifted her hand and placed a lingering kiss there. Without a word, he lowered her hand and tugged on each finger of her glove, slowly removing it from her hand. The leather whispered as it was taken off, and he allowed it to fall to the ground. He repeated the same movements with her other hand, kissing it first, then removing the glove.
Her heart started pounding again; when it had slowed she hadn’t noticed, but it was no longer slow, but pounding hard—not fast, just powerfully, as if starting to gear up her body for something . . . for someone.
“I love your hands,” Ramsey whispered against her wrist, kissing it softly, his lips delicate on her skin. “You talk with them, did you know?”
“My father often said I did.”
“He was a wise man.”
“The best.”
“Do you think . . .” Ramsey paused and met her gaze. “Would he have liked me? Approved of us?”
Grace smiled warmly. “If you love me, then my father would have needed no other grounds to approve of you. He only wanted me to be loved like he loved my mother.”
“A love match,” Ramsey whispered, grinning. “Is that what we are?” He flirted, tugging on her hand to pull her in close enough to kiss.
“Would you disagree?” Grace teased, tipping her chin upward, just enough to make it easier for him to bend down and take her lips.
He kissed her nose instead. “I would never imagine disagreeing with you.”
“Why do I find that hard to believe?” Grace returned, dryly.
“Because it’s a lie.” Ramsey let out a low chuckle, and then finally lowered his lips to hers, lingering there just enough to send her blood to pounding. “But what is not a lie is that I love you.” He kissed her again, deeper, searchingly, as if answering his own question with a kiss by pulling the love from her heart and tasting it in her kiss.
Grace returned the kiss, her hands winding around his neck, lacing through his hair as he deepened the exchange, her body singing in response to the firm lines of his frame pressing into her softer ones.
“I love you too,” she murmured against his lips, without giving him a chance to respond as she pressed harder into him, needing him to be closer.
