Watching at his desirous gaze focused intently upon her breast, she placed another drop of wine along the upper slope. Then she waited, allowing the wine to slide over her skin to her nipple.
“Drink.”
With a gruff sound, he leaned forward. Touching her with just his tongue, he swirled over her breast, chasing the wine to its resting place before taking her fully into his mouth. Thedeep, lush draw of his mouth sent flames licking through her body, flowing like molten need to that aching place deep inside. A quick flick of her finger had the negligee falling to the floor, baring her completely. The sound he made was raw and deep. Almost feral. Releasing her breast, he sent his heavy gaze down the length of her, soaking her in through his dark, penetrating stare.
Already trembling, Charlotte dipped three fingers into the wine and placed them at her sternum.
His lips parted as he watched the three distinct rivulets slide down the center of her body, past her navel to disappear into the thatch of dark curls below.
A rumbling growl issued from his chest, but he did not move other than to return his ravenous gaze to hers with an expression that was weighted with tumultuous cravings.
With a soft smile, she placed her hand to his chest, then slid her palm down to the ridges of his taut abdomen before allowing her fingertips to tease across the edge of his waistband, near his swiftly rising erection. Sliding him a look of wicked promise, Charlotte drained the last of her wine from the glass, making sure to lick every bit of residue from her lips, inspiring a deep and throaty moan from her husband.
“Oh,” she exclaimed softly, “Did you wish for another taste?”
His chin dipped as he replied, “Oui, Madame.”
Slipping her finger into her mouth, she wet it thoroughly with her tongue, then offered her finger to him. He opened instantly and when she slid her finger past his lips, he groaned with raw pleasure. His tongue twirled, lush and hot and hungry, as his eyes drifted closed. The attention he lavished on that single digit sent spirals of pleasure through her body, swirling with heat until her bones melted with a delicious aching.
“Enough,” she managed in a rough whisper as she withdrew her finger.
His gaze found hers, frustration and yearning filling the dark pools.
She smiled. Then took a step back. “On your knees, my love.”
A ripple of what might have been resistance or acute anticipation rolled through his body. But he murmured his assent before smoothly dropping to his knees before her. His gaze naturally fell to the floor as his hands came to rest on his thighs.
“Beautiful,” she praised huskily, her belly swirling at the sight of him. Forcing an evenness to her breath, she said, “Tell me what you want.”
His lashes fluttered against his sculpted cheekbones. His voice was raw with desire, thick with need. “I must have another taste.”
Glancing to the empty glass she still held in her fingers, Charlotte replied, “But my wine is gone.” She tilted her head and smiled. “Do you desire another taste of my mouth?”
“No, Madame.” His tone was raw and vulnerable. “It is the taste of your desire that I crave. So fiercely it hurts.”
Charlotte nearly collapsed to the floor. Her nipples peaked painfully and her sex throbbed in response to his words as liquid heat flooded her core.
“Please, Madame,” he begged in a tortured whisper.
Though her legs threatened to give out, Charlotte held herself still. Everything in her demanded she offer herself to him like a feast, but she wanted to make it worth it. For him. Take him to the very edge of his control.
Turning away from him, she walked naked across the room to set her empty glass on a small table. “Do you think you deserve such a valuable reward?” she asked, her tone light despite the lust and longing twisting almost violently through her.
He answered quickly—fiercely. “I will do anything.”
Charlotte did not respond right away. Instead, she continued to one of the tall-backed armchairs in front of the fireplace. With deliberate, languid movements, she lowered herself to the chair. Keeping herself perched at the edge of the seat, her legs pressed together and crossed at the ankles as she draped her wrists over the arms.
Then she stared at her husband.
Devoured the sight of him. Admired every inch of him. Consumed the dark look in his eyes, the tension binding his torso, the spread of his fingers atop his thighs, the hard, thick ridge angling up from his groin.
He was astonishing. His beauty. His power. His commitment.
She met his intent burning stare and offered a smile. Telling him with everything but words how much she desired him. How deeply she loved and trusted him.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Ralston’s throat nearlyclosed and his brow furrowed with forced restraint.
