She flexed her hips against him in time to those glorious sucks and licks and nips, feeling pleasure rise in her, push her toward release, toward madness. And it affected him, too. He was already hard, but every rolling flex of her hips made him even harder.
She reached between them, hands shaking, and traced the line of his cock. He lifted his gaze and met hers, and in that moment she knew they were both ready. No more teasing or preparing. She lifted slightly and he tore the buttons of his trousers open. His cock pushed on the loose fabric and cast the front fall away, revealing him in all his naked, hard glory.
She couldn’t find words as she lowered herself back into place. He slid a hand between them, positioning himself at her entrance, and then she was taking him inside as they let out a moan in unison that echoed in the quiet chamber.
Once he was fully seated, he reached out and dragged her down to his lips again, kissing her as he flexed his hips up, thrusting from below as she dug her fingernails into his bare chest. She met his stokes, grinding her hips down to his. It took her a moment to find the rhythm, but once she did, she let out a soft cry at how very good he felt.
And how right their joining always was. Like their bodies were made for each other, made for these illicit pleasures. She wanted them, wanted him, wanted to learn all the ways he liked to be touched, all the ways they could make each other shudder like they shuddered together now. And that wasn’t just a general desire, an ache that needed to be filled by any person in her orbit who could do so.
She wantedthisman. No other. It was shocking, but it was true. Long gone were thoughts of Aaron or of some fairytale ideal she’d spun for herself as a naïve girl. All that was left was Hugh, and as the first flutters of release ripped through her, he was all that mattered.
She dropped her head back, gasping out pleasure. She gripped him through the crisis, continuing to ride, continuing to grind as the sensations rolled higher and higher.
He pounded faster, his neck straining, and then he let out a low groan of his own and she felt the heat of his release joining hers. She collapsed against his chest with a sigh of pleasure and his arms came around her, tucking her tightly against him as he slid kisses along her neck and her shoulders.
“And now you’re truly home,” he murmured.
She opened her eyes at that statement. Perhaps he meant it that their marriage was fully consummated, or that she truly belonged because she had been claimed in his house at last.
But there was something deeper to the words. Something that rang so true that it was terrifying. She felt like she was home. In his house, certainly. In his family, yes.
But mostly in his arms. Yet she had no idea what he wanted for their future, so it made his words terrifying, because they could lead her to heartbreak that could change her life forever.
Chapter Fifteen
Hugh could not believe how swiftly a week had passed since he and Amelia had arrived in Brighthollow. But the days had rolled away, filled with laughter and relaxation. The nights with unbridled and thus far unrelenting passion. In three days they would return to London, for he had things to attend to in the city and he found himself preoccupied over whether they could bring the charmed nature of their time on his estate with them.
It wasn’t that it had been perfect. There had been times when being with Amelia was almost painful. She was so lovely, and when he caught her looking off into the distance with a troubled expression, he was obsessed with her thoughts. Was she thinking of Walters? Wishing that her life were different? She was owed that desire, of course, but it still tore his heart to shreds.
He’d tried to run from it. Distance himself. But somehow Amelia always found him and drew him back, like a beacon in the darkness.
He shook his head as he pushed back from his desk and paced out of his study. He’d been working all morning, but now he wanted to see his wife. Hiswife, which was still a foreign and shocking concept.
He prowled the halls, searching for her like a lost dog seeking its master. But she seemed to be in no parlor, not in the library, not the music room. As he turned every corner, the keen desire just to look at her face grew sharper and more desperate.
“Good afternoon, Your Grace,” his housekeeper, Mrs. Williams, said as he poked his head into yet another room. She straightened from her work and tilted her head with a friendly smile.
Hugh focused on maintaining even a fraction of decorum and returned the expression. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Williams.”
“May I help you with anything?” she asked, watching as he looked around the room in what felt like lost distraction.
“Er, my wife,” he admitted, and hated how heat flooded his cheeks. “I cannot seem to find her. Do you know if she went for a walk?”
“She didn’t, sir,” the housekeeper said with a knowing expression, like she could see what he didn’t want to admit. “I think she and Lady Elizabeth were going to the ballroom.”
Hugh wrinkled his brow. “The—the ballroom?” he repeated in confusion. “Why would they do that?”
“Her Grace said something about practicing,” Mrs. Williams said. “I don’t know much more about their plans.”
Hugh’s warm desire to see Amelia faded a little at that statement. Practice. In the ballroom. His wife didn’t know his sister very well. Certainly, Lizzie had not shared her painful past. What Amelia was doing might trigger Lizzie’s bad memories. Her uncertainties.
“Thank you,” he muttered as he exited the room and strode down the long hall to the back of the house, where the massive ballroom was situated. The door was cracked as he approached and behind it, he heard the echoing voices of the two women.
They were…laughing.
He stopped in his place, stunned by that realization. Lizziehatedthe ballroom—she avoided it at all costs—and yet he heard her giggles coming from behind the big, carved door. He hesitated, then pushed the door open just enough that he could see inside.
In the middle of the big, empty room, Amelia and Lizzie were facing each other. As he watched, Amelia executed a stiff, formal bow and Lizzie curtsied. Then Amelia held out her hand and they began the intricate steps of the quadrille, spinning round the room as they tried to maintain serious expressions.
