She swallowed hard and nodded, watching him as he watched her. His gray gaze swept over her body, drinking her in, his pupils dilating and his hands lifting to touch her bare skin at last.
He cupped both breasts, sweeping his thumbs over her already hard nipples. She threw her head back in pleasure and he leaned down to suck one peak into his mouth. He worked her tender flesh, stroking and laving, then sucking until she was gasping and groaning his name over and over.
He repeated the same action against her opposite breast, all the while inching her gown and chemise the rest of the way down her body until she was naked but for her sheer stockings.
He pulled away at last, his lips wet from tasting her, and motioned to the bed wordlessly. She smiled as she followed that order, settling back against his pillows and watching with great interest as he stripped his own clothing away.
She sat up straighter as he peeled his shirt off and kicked out of his trousers. He was already hard, his cock curling toward his stomach in a proud display of desire. She licked her lips as she stared at it, anticipating every moment they would share. Every way he would pleasure her.
“You will kill me with just a look,” he grunted as he crawled over her, bracing his hands on either side of her head and letting his hips lower to hers so their bodies touched at last.
She hissed out a breath at the heat of his skin against her skin. His hardness on her softness. She had missed this so very much. Thought she’d never experience it again.
And here they were, with the rest of their lives to explore each other. To dive into the well of passion and pleasure together. Perhaps that would be enough. She lied to herself that it would be as she gripped the back of his head and drew his lips to hers.
He sank into her with a shuddering sigh that seemed to move through his entire body. She wrapped her arms around him, cradling him as she parted her legs and created a place for him to rest. He broke the kiss, resting his forehead to hers as he positioned himself at her entrance and then slid effortlessly into her waiting and willing body.
They both exhaled a long sigh, their breath mingling in the quiet. He smiled at her and she massaged her fingers against his back. It felt so right, this moment. No longer stolen, no longer thick with lies. It was their moment and she refused to share it with anything or anyone else.
“Ready?” he whispered, his voice rough.
She nodded. “Oh yes.”
He thrust then, long, heavy motions that seemed to take a lifetime. She rose to meet him with each one as she kissed his neck and his chest and his arms. Already, she was on the edge, the result of such a long time apart.
And he knew exactly how to take her over that edge. He ground his hips hard against her, and the pleasure that had been building deep within her reached its peak. She cried out his name as she came, milking him with her quivering body. His neck strained as he took her harder, faster, losing his finesse, losing his control. She watched him as it happened. Watched the moment that there was only animal need driving him. Then he made a guttural cry and she felt him pump hot into her.
He collapsed on top of her, his breath coming short as he smoothed his hands over her naked, sweaty body. She turned into him, kissing him while their bodies were still connected. The moment would be gone shortly and she wanted to make it last. Last as long as she could. Maybe even last forever.
Matthew lay in his bed, watching as dawn’s first light began to brighten the horizon out the window. He had not slept that night. Not even for a moment. All of it had to do with the woman beside him.
He glanced down at Isabel. She was tucked into his chest, her hand resting there. Her legs tangled in his. Her naked body half-uncovered after a night of making love to her over and over again. Until she was spent. Until she was incoherent with pleasure. And somehow his desire for her had not been slaked. It was still there, pulsing through him even when he brushed a lock of hair from her forehead and she snuggled closer with a faint whimper of his name.
It hadn’t just been making love to her that kept him from sleep. It was the feelings that doing it created in him.
He had every reason in the world to doubt the woman in his arms. The short time they’d known each other had been thick with lies, with manipulations. And yet as he held her, he didn’t focus on those things, even if he should. What he felt was a connection. Something powerful that transcended the physical bond that was obvious the moment they barely touched.
This was deeper. It gave him comfort. It gave him peace. It gave him hope.
At least he thought it was hope. Hope had been such a stranger to him lately that he hardly recognized it. He only knew it was powerful and positive.
And when he acknowledged that, what followed was intense guilt.
How could he feel this way about another woman,anyother woman, but especially Angelica’s own cousin? A person he would have met, even invited to his home if his fiancée hadn’t died all those years ago. Did that mean he would have betrayed her? That he would have felt this draw to Isabel that now seemed to throb in him like a drumbeat?
What kind of a bastard did that make him?
He let out his breath in a ragged sigh and gently detached himself from Isabel’s embrace. She made a soft sound of protest that was lost in the air, and settled deeper in to the pillows. He walked to the window and stood looking out on the garden behind the house.
A new day was almost here. The first of the rest of his life married to Isabel. But he still didn’t really know what that meant to him. Or to her. But there was no denying it, just like there was no denying the sun as it finally popped up above the horizon.
So he would have to find a way to move forward.
Chapter Eighteen
Isabel paced through the halls of her new home, peeking into parlors and hesitating in music rooms as she explored her surroundings. She spent hours doing so. Well, to be fair, most of those hours had been spent cooing and fawning over Matthew’s fine library.
Still, her first day as the Duchess of Tyndale had been occupied, indeed. Just not by her husband, who had been all but hiding since they broke their fast together hours before.
