“That actually happened?” she whispered. “I thought that was a dream.”
“Oh, it certainly was a part of a dream I had,” Adrian agreed. “However, the reality was one thousand times better than anything I had imagined.”
Affection glittered in Bridget’s eyes, taking over worry. Then, when she moved to kiss him, Adrian did not stop her, but let her seal her lips to his. It sent a bolt of pleasure through the entirety of his body, and he knew he had convinced her to stay.
He just needed to hear her say so.
“Say you will stay,” he implored, breaking away from the kiss as gently as possible. “Say you will give me one more chance to prove to you how much I want you.”
“Adrian, I…” she breathed as his kisses trailed down her neck.
He loved the way her breath caught in her throat as his lips reached a particular spot between her neck and shoulder, and he kissed her there again. He was rewarded with a tremor that ran through her entire body, followed by a contented sigh.
“I will stay,” she breathed.
Triumph surged through him, making his hands tremble as he untied the stays of her gown and corset. To his pleasure, Bridget helped him, her trembling fingers all too willing to pull back the fabric of her gown away from her shoulders for him. His eyes roamed hungrily down her body when he pulled her corset away next.
“You are perfect for me, Bridget,” he whispered, staring in awe at her pert breasts, small waist, and flared hips. He reached down, unable to help himself, and traced his fingertips lovingly over the taut bud of her rosy nipple, down the swell of her breast, and to the dip of her navel.
“So perfect,” he rasped as she trembled under his touch.
Bridget’s eyes opened then, her shining green orbs bright and dilated in the way he loved. There was a look there that needed no words. A look that begged him to prove to her that she was exactly where she was supposed to be.
With a throaty groan, Adrian brought his lips to hers again. This time, she kissed him back with a desperation that left his manhood hard and aching in his trousers. He ignored it, knowing that in time he would be satisfied, and trailed nipping, possessive kisses down her throat. He drew each nipple into his mouth, lavishing attention on first one, then the other, until Bridget’s words were breathy and incoherent and her hands were yanking at his hair.
He then showered her waist with attention, nuzzling his forehead against her ribcage as his large hand splayed over her abdomen and took in the buttery softness of her flesh. He lazily drew symbols with his tongue and lips over her lower belly and pubic bone, as if he had all the time in the world to devour her.
“Please,” Bridget breathed, breaking him out of his obsession. “Please, please, please,” she chanted.
Adrian did not stop, just continued his torturously slow exploration over her hips and toward her mons as he rasped, “Please, what, wife? Tell me, and it’s yours.”
Bridget whimpered at his words, the sound pulling at his heartstrings as much as it pulled at his aching groin.
He swirled his tongue lower, just barely grazing that taut bud of nerves between her thighs. She gasped and shuddered as her legs locked onto his shoulders.
“Please do not stop,” she begged.
Adrian let out a dark chuckle as he settled himself between her thighs and braced his hands firmly on her backside.
“Do not worry, love,” he rasped, then blew soft air over her dewy mons. “I do not plan on stopping for a long time.”
Chapter 21
“How are you, Mother?” Adrian greeted her as he stepped into Nora’s room.
His mother looked up from her embroidery, smiling. Then it was as if she realized who she was looking at, and her smile faded into a frown as she returned to her embroidery.
“Oh. It is you,” she said flatly. “I thought for a moment you were Evander. Where is your brother? He has been gone far too long.”
Adrian took a deep breath, steadying his nerves. He had put so much effort into finding Evander’s killer that he had not paid proper attention to how far his mother had slipped from reality. Seeing it now, though, he vowed then and there to do better.
“Mother, I have some devastating news,” Adrian began. He walked into the room, removed her embroidery from her lap, and took her hands in his.
She tsked her tongue at him and tried to pull them away, but he held them fast.
“What is it you speak of?” she demanded. “And why are you holding my hands like this?”
“Mother, please,” Adrian implored, tightening his hold on her hands. “I need you to hear me. Evander has passed away.”
