“You’re not done.” The command was husky with want.
“Yes madam.” She cracked a smile with that, but she was still pressing her breast into my grasp, panting as I switched between the two.
There was a soft whine when she pulled my hand away, I was not certain who it belonged to. But then, she dragged my hand along the outside of her thigh, her calf, until, together, we reached the edge of her nightgown, her ankle.
I could feel the harshness of my breath rasping against her cheek as my forehead fell against her temple. I was desperate to watch as she slipped our joined hands under her hem and along the inside of her leg, repeating her path in reverse. My fingers caught in the bend of her knee, smoothing over a satin thigh.
“While you’re kissing my chest, your hand is going to follow this path,” she explained. I nodded, eagerly, anything she desired, it was hers. Especially this.
Her direction ended with my hand cupping her sex, hot and damp against my eager fingers. She didn’t adjust my hand and neither did I, merely holding position as she pressed against me seemingly without thought. The fabric of her gown was bunched near to her waist, but I still could not see.
“You want my hands here?” I needed to confirm it, that she wanted my touch on this, most private, part of her. I would not take this from her, not again. She would have to offer it willingly.
She did, with an enthusiastic nod, tucking shyly into the crook of my neck. With my free hand, I cupped the back of her head, pressing her there—the place she belongs.
Lech that I was, my mind was flooded with another image, one that once planted there had taken root. Much as I loathed the thought of Michael at this particular moment, I had been able to dream of little else since he mentioned it. Nightly, I dreamed of planting my lips where my palm currently resided. Images, thoughts of providing her pleasure in such a way—
“I could,” I had to pause to swallow, the thought nearly too much. “I could use my mouth here too. If you think that might be pleasing.”Please, please, say yes.
Her response was nearly inaudible, buried in my throat as she was. “You would do that?”
“Yes.” Something in my tone must have intrigued her because she pulled her head free from the hideaway of my chest.
“You want to do that?”
More than anything. “Lord, yes.”
“Then yes, please.”
I had the most perfect wife in the entire world. That much was absolutely certain.
Forty-Five
THORNTON HALL, KENT - NOVEMBER 25, 1814
KATE
Our conversation had cooledmy ardor somewhat and left me an inextricable mess of nerves and lust. I could not have attributed one emotion or the other to the tumultuous fluttering of my heart to save my life.
Hugh appeared more certain. His interested gaze flitted up and down my body. He stood abruptly. Then, without warning, my husband slipped one hand beneath my knees and the other around my back, lifting me into his arms.
In my startled state, my arms flew around his neck to steady myself. I needn’t have worried because he had never lacked for strength. He answered my flailing with an amused chuckle, it was warm, and I could feel the vibrations of it deep in his chest. Down to that place between my legs, the one he’s going to—I couldn’t think of it.
“Grab that candle?” It took a moment to understand his meaning, distracted as I was with what was to happen. I grasped it in the hand that wasn’t clinging desperately to his neck. He’d given no indication that he might drop me, but I couldn’t convince my body to trust that. “Try not to set us on fire, yes?”
“Where are we going?” He blew the rest of the candles out—we were not to remain here. I hadn’t thought this far ahead during our conversation that my piano bench might not be the best location for our activities. It was probably a good thing, because I would never be able to look at it the same way as it was.
“Bedroom. Need room to maneuver and you need to be comfortable.” I could feel the flush building once more, stronger than before. He shifted me slightly in his arms, and I clutched him tighter still. “Much as I appreciate your grip on me, I’m not in danger of dropping you.”
“Promise?” His answering grin was a little crooked, but he tightened his grip on me, grasping just a bit more firmly.
“Promise.” I bit back a smile of my own, consciously loosening my death grip around his neck. His hold was steady, even on the stairs, movements confident and gentle—careful not to jostle me.
He nudged the door to his room open with a foot, still refusing to set me on my feet. Finally, he laid me on his bed. He occupied himself with lighting some of the candles scattered around the room. The fire in the hearth was high and warm against the autumn night’s chill. Task complete, he turned toward me. “Kate?”
“Yes?”
“You must tell me at once if I do anything you do not like. I do not ever want you to merely tolerate my attentions again.”
