He hissed in a breath, the pleasure of her touch explosive.
“Elara,” he rasped, snatching her hand away from him.
Confusion glittered in her eyes as he held her hand between their chests. “What is it? Why do you not want me to touch you?”
Constantine huffed out a laugh.
“It is not that,” he rasped, entwining his fingers with hers, “Despite what you may think of me, Iama gentleman in certain aspects, and I do believe that a woman’s pleasure should come first. However, if I do not stop you now, I fear your touch will undo those aspects.”
Constantine clearly saw the tremor pass through Elara’s body as pleasure replaced the confusion in her eyes. Knowing he eased her fears, he took her hand and rested it on his shoulder, then tightened his arm around her waist. Slowly, he looked down her body, desire awakening once again.
“God but I love you in crimson,” he whispered, his tone reverent as he slowly dragged his fingertips over the right strap of her nightgown.
A whimper escaped Elara’s throat as his fingertips traced the line of the strap, down the V of her neckline, and to her breast. She arched into his touch as his fingertips brushed over the silkabove her nipples, satisfaction building within him as he felt the rosy pink bud below already taut from his touch.
“You are so beautifully sensitive, love,” he murmured, tracing the outline of her nipple again.
Elara drew in a slow, shuddering breath as her fingernails bit into his shoulder.
“It is your touch that makes me so,” she whispered.
Constantine’s gaze snapped up to hers, pleasure sparking through his veins at her confession.
“Would you like more?” he asked, his hand relaxing into a gentle massage on her breast as he drew her closer.
“Yes,” she breathed, then her pink tongue darted between her lips to lick them, the sight teasing Constantine even more.
“Yes, what?” he teased.
“Yes,Constantine,I want your touch,” she pleaded, her hand sliding from his shoulder to around both of them. “Please.”
The plea in her voice was his undoing, and with a strangled groan, he jerked her toward him, slamming their lips together. Elara moaned into his lips as his hand shifted from her breast to up to her throat, and he flicked his hips between her parted legs as he squeezed her there possessively.
Forgetting that they were in the kitchens altogether, Constantine gave in to his desires. He nipped and suckled and took possession of Elara’s lips and tongue as he ground his tented breeches into her apex, reveling in the fact that already the proof of her arousal was soaking through the fabric between them.
He only broke the kiss when his lungs reminded him he needed air, and they both let out a ragged gasp. Constantine paused, but only a moment, so he could take in Elara’s dazed eyes, swollen lips, and flushed cheeks, then he was on her again, fusing his lips to the buttery soft flesh of her neck.
He hissed out a breath and shivered as Elara’s nails dragged down his spine, and he silently prayed that she had left marks on him. In turn, his hands were everywhere on her. On her throat, at her breasts, wrapped around her waist, and digging into her parted thighs. He could not stop; he could not decide which part of her body he wanted to remain on. She felt too good, responded too beautifully, for him to land on a favored place.
Then suddenly, as his tongue skimmed along her collarbone, both of Elara’s hands drew up into his hair and yanked his head up to collide her lips with his. They let out matching moans of fierce need as their kiss became a fight of passion, and needing to feel her more, he grasped the straps of her nightgown and dragged them down her arms.
Taking control, he tore away from the kiss and forced her grip from his hair, only so that he could get her arms free of the straps and drag the bodice of the nightgown down to her hips. His breath caught in his throat as he leaned back, needing a moment to revel in the beauty of her perfect figure.
He had had many women. Elara had not insulted him the first time she had called him a rake. It had been true. He had seen dozens of women naked before, but Elara... Elara was the epitome of beauty. He had never seen such perfect breasts. Neither too big nor too small, they sat high and round, her tiny nipples a lush, rosy pink. Those perfect breasts tapered into a small waist that flared beautifully into slightly wider hips.
Hips that he lifted so he could pull the nightgown completely away from her and marvel at her stunning figure. Constantine was not an artist by any means. His brain was more oriented toward business and mathematics. Yet as he looked upon Elara, sitting on the counter with her arms slightly back and her spine arched, her hair wild and loose, her little feet dangling in the air, he wanted to paint her.
Proof that even for a brief time, they were more than just two people forced into a marriage. Proof that their feelings were more than adversarial; that they were, for a moment at least, lovers.
Chapter 25
“Is something wrong?” Elara asked.
Constantine’s heated gaze raked up her naked body and met her eyes, immediately making her shiver. She should have been worried about something else. Like the fact that she was naked before a man for the very first time in her life. Or that she was made so bare in such a place where anyone could walk in. But she was not worried about those things. Instead, she was worried about what had made Constantine stop his delicious kissing and addictive touch.
“No,” he rasped, the ache clear in his voice.
He swallowed, and his hand slipped around the back of her neck; his touch was almost reverent. He drew her close, stopping just until their lips almost touched.
