“I hate him,” he muttered, arching as she stroked her hand over him. “I’m glad he’s dead.”
She shook her head. Right now she was very glad of the same, even if she would surely rot for such an uncharitable feeling. After all, his being gone allowed her to do…this…
She licked Robert a second time, loving the softness of his skin, the underlying hardness beneath. Loving the flavor of him, male desire and clean flesh. Loving that this man who was so capable of retaining all this control at all times arched beneath her touch and gripped the coverlet like it was the only thing keeping him sane.
“Katherine,” he groaned. “You are not doing it wrong. Don’t stop.”
She smiled against him and licked again, circling the head of him gently before she finally dropped her mouth over him and took him inside. He was bigger than her husband—she’d never had to maneuver so much. She took him as far as she could comfortably go, gripping the base of his shaft and stoking it as she withdrew.
He mumbled garbled, helpless sounds and they drove her on. She sucked him deeper, watching up the length of his body as his face grew lined with tension. With pleasure. With sensation.Shewas doing this. Making him moan. Making him arch. Making his feet flex.
She was doing it and it made her whole body tingle, the same way it did when he touched her. When he licked her. When he made her come. She moaned against him and he cursed, his eyes squeezing shut.
She knew then what she would do. What she wanted. What she needed. She stroked him one last time and then she slid up his body. Her dress tangled around him, one of her slippers clattered to the floor, but at last she straddled him once more. She was pushing at fabric, trying to get to the naked flesh beneath, for she had not worn drawers tonight.
She positioned herself about him and looked down to find his eyes wide. “Are you sure?” he asked.
She nodded, pushing away any doubt. Pushing away the wager that had kept her from this before. Pushing away memories of the night her husband died.
And she glided down, her wet sheath taking him, stretching and aching with pleasure as he filled her completely. Together they shivered, and she rested her forehead against his as their ragged breathing began to match. They were one now, joined in a way that could never be undone or forgotten.
He glanced up at her and smiled. “You’re wearing too many clothes.”
She laughed, shocked one could find humor at the same time that sensation ripped through her whole body. There was nothing dour or serious about this moment. Not like it had been before. This was no duty. It was something magical.
He caught her hips, dragging her forward and kissing her. She drove her tongue into his mouth, rotating her body, squeezing him inside of her. He moaned and she did the same as the pleasure ricocheted through her, hitting parts of her she didn’t know existed until this moment.
She was vaguely aware of his fingers flitting along her spine. Her dress opened in the back and gaped forward. He tugged at it, pulling it over her head. She heard the delicate fabric rending before he tossed it aside.
“My maid will not be happy,” she giggled. She grabbed the hem of her chemise and yanked it off her head, letting it join the dress on the floor.
Now she was naked, save her stockings and the one slipper that had stayed on her foot when she straddled him. He glided his hands up her sides, staring at her as he cupped her breasts and squeezed, massaging the flesh there.
She shut her eyes, dipping her head back as her hips thrust of their own accord. He grunted out his satisfaction, lifting to meet her as she rode him. She thrust harder, faster, feeling the pleasure build in her. She was just on the edge of it, ready to fall, when her mind yanked her back to that night just over a year ago.
The night when her husband had died in just this very position.
Her eyes flew open, pleasure gone as she stared down at Robert in horror. His face had been lined with satisfaction, but when he saw her expression, that faded. Concern replaced everything and he settled his hands onto her bare hips.
“What is it?” he said, his voice strained.
She shook her head, trying to make those images go away. “Just…he…I…”
He nodded slowly. “That night,” he whispered. “You’re remembering.”
She gasped out a sob and leaned down against his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
His arms came around her, gentle as he smoothed his hands along her bare spine in comfort. “Why are you apologizing?” he asked against her ear as he kissed her there. “Of course you would experience memories, considering our position. Had I known you were going to do that, I might have moved us this first time.”
She pulled back. “You aren’t angry?”
“No.” He traced her face with his fingers. “Never. But I need you to listen to me, Katherine. You didn’t do anything wrong. The night that he died, it had nothing to do with your prowess.”
“I know,” she said.
He cupped her chin. “You say it. Butdoyou know it?”
Her bottom lip began to tremble as she relived not just the moment Gregory had died, but the moments after. When the servants had come in to find her screaming over him. When the doctor had hissed at her to put on a robe. When everyone in the world, it seemed, judged her and whispered about her and the worst moment of her life.
