He plucked the glove from her, setting it aside. Then he pounced.
Trapped beneath him, she said breathlessly, “What are you doing?”
“Having my way with you.” He nibbled on her ear, his breath warm and teasing. “All that talk of curved bottoms reminded me of my favorite: yours.”
He slid his hands beneath her, his playful squeeze making her giggle. He kissed her, and her laughter vaporized in the heat that leapt between them. Before long, she was wriggling with need, yet when she reached for him, hard and insistent against her belly, he caught her hand. He guided it above her head, then did the same with her other hand.
“Keep them there.” His gaze smoldered. “I meant what I said about having my way with you. You are delectable, Evie, and I am going to savor every part of you.”
As always, he was a man of his word. His sensual onslaught was slow and steady, fanning her flames. He lavished attention on her breasts, licking and nibbling. His naughty words aroused as much as his oral skills.
“Your tits are exquisite. Will you come for me, sweetheart, if I suckle them just so?”
The answer was an emphatic yes. While she floated in bliss, he kissed his way down her belly. To her surprise, he continued to her legs, tickling behind her knees and pressing his lips to the arch of her foot. Then he made his way up again, and her breath hitched when he spread her thighs and stared rapaciously at her exposed flesh.
His nostrils flared. “Delectable, as I said. How I shall enjoy eating you.”
Her head fell back on the pillow as he feasted. He brought her to the peak again and again, until she was boneless and limp. Then he turned her onto her stomach, pressing her into the mattress. The things he did were so depraved that she became hoarse from crying out with pleasure. When he entered her, face to face, his hands clasping hers above her head, the joining was as essential as their beating hearts. The world fell away. Their gazes locked, he opened her, filled her, and gave even as he took. His controlled rhythm revived her spent nerves, and she was simmering again—with passion and all that she felt for this man, her husband, the mate to her soul.
“I love you,” she breathed. “I don’t want anything between us. Not ever again.”
“Never again,” he vowed. “You are mine, and I am yours, sunflower.”
He sealed his mouth over hers, and they soared into ecstasy as one.
Chapter Twenty-Five
James had always admired his wife for her intellect, courage, and quiet dignity.
Yet he’d never been prouder of her than now.
It was after lunch, and they were in the drawing room of Bottoms House. Seated beside him on the settee, Evie finished telling his assembled kin about her past. Even though she hadn’t gone into detail about the abuses she’d suffered at the hands of Wilmington, she’d shared enough. James saw the protective fury on the faces of his papa, brothers, and even his brother-in-law and knew he must look the same way. The women were no less affected. Gigi and Mama’s eyes were bright with emotion. On Evie’s other side, Xenia was dabbing her cheeks with the handkerchief Ethan had passed her.
Evie, herself, had lost her color, yet she pressed on, sharing about the blackmail: the notes and her payments, including the hundred gold sovereigns and the delivery of the pearls last night. He didn’t know what it cost her to lay herself bare to his kin—to their judgment—but her willingness to do so humbled him. He made a silent promise to be worthy of her trust in him and the future they were building together.
“I know how shocking and despicable this must all sound.” Despite Evie’s composure, the tremor in her voice betrayed her. “I can claim no defense but fear. I have been afraid for so long—of Wilmington, of what I had done, intentionally or not, and of my secret being exposed. Most of all, I was afraid of…of losing James.”
He tightened his grip on her hand. “That will never happen, my love.”
The look she gave him—glimmering with love and hope—constricted his chest.
She turned back to the family. “I understand if you find it difficult to forgive me. In your shoes, I would feel the same. It was selfish and wrong of me to marry James”—she shook her head when he tried to interrupt—“but I do not regret it. I cannot regret loving him as I do. And I pray you will understand.”
Rising, Mama came to Evie, who shot to her feet.
“My dear girl.” Mama’s voice was husky with emotion. “You love my son, and he loves you. What is there to forgive?”
James, who had also risen, saw Evie’s eyes well up.
“After what I’ve done, I don’t deserve?—”
“No.” Mama cut her off sharply. “Do not blame yourself. It was an accident, borne of fear and desperation. That monster Wilmington deserved what he got, and I only wish he would have suffered more. I understand why you felt you needed to keep this a secret, but the shame was his and never yours.”
“Thank you,” Evie whispered. “Thank you for…for standing by me. For understanding.”
“My dear, I understand all too well.”
James saw a flash in Mama’s gaze before she drew Evie in for a hug. His wife clung to his mother, her lashes spiked with moisture. After, Mama went over to Papa, who tipped her chin up and looked into her eyes. Something passed between the two that James didn’t quite understand. Then Papa kissed her, tenderly and rather thoroughly. James exchanged awkward glances with his siblings; knowing one’s parents were in love was one thing, witnessing it quite another.
