To his astonishment, she shifted closer.
He cradled her jaw with a gentle hold, brushed his lips against her temple.
She stilled, and he had a moment of hope she’d forgiven him for deserting her that morning after their wedding.
“This won’t take long, will it, Huntley?”
The flare extinguished quickly. To her, intimate relations meant pain. She’d been scared out of her wits.
“I suppose you believe once you do your duty, I shall retire to my own chamber to leave you in peace the rest of the night.”
“That is my grandest hope,” she gritted out.
So much to make up for. He laid his palm on her sternum and contemplated the situation. It called for drastic action with undo patience. He rubbed her satiny skin with his thumb. It was remiss of me leaving you alone this past month.”
She shoved at his shoulders, but he refused to give an inch. “Where exactly did you disappear to this evening, sir?” she said in that tight tone.
He paused in his light caress, considered all sides of the question. Perhaps there was no harm in answering. “The prime minister requested my presence. I couldn’t very well ignore such a matter.” He lowered his lips to the side of her neck, and licked, then nipped.
She jumped. The reaction sent his blood rushing as far south as Brighton. “The p-prime minister?” Her voice came out in a raspy breath.
“I assist him on occasion.” He slid his mouth down to the opening of her prim night rail. “I’m not particularly fond of this nightgown. What became of the sheer muslin you held earlier …” His words trailed as he licked at her nipple through the sturdy fabric. Most unsatisfying. “In fact, I believe this is nothing but a rag.” He rose up and gently tore it from the top down then peeled it back, revealing an alluring banquet of choices. “That’s much more like it,” he whispered, deciding on a breast first.
Her reaction filled the shadows with a light that burned with a blinding brightness inside him.
~~~
Gabby gasped. “What—”
His hand moved to the flat of her stomach holding her in place, his tongue laved her breast.
She moaned, swallowing hard. This wasn’t so bad.
Her nipple beaded under the onslaught of his ministrations. He licked. He laved. He suckled.
He used his lips to trace an outline from her nipples to beneath her breasts. Slowly, to the flat of her stomach, while his hand moved between her legs. His attention on her was… divine. But she knew now from experience it would not end that way.
But then his fingers found a particularly sensitive part and pressed. Her body launched into an explosive convulsion. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders. To her utter horror, he shifted lower on the bed. Her attempts to wriggle away were futile, and his mouth covered her sex, his tongue dancing something foreign and exotic on her. Huntley—” that wail could not be her. His large hands held her buttocks in place while he feasted on her as if she were the final meal of his lifetime. Again, she shattered.
He crawled his way up her limp body.
“I owe you a tremendous apology, love. My behavior drove me to destruction on our wedding night. I was clumsy and thoughtless. And…” She listened, but her pounding heart almost drowned out his words. “Angry. Yet, I wanted you so much I lost control.”
"But you… you left me alone the next morning.” She closed her eyes against the gathering tears, but that only served to send them streaming from the corner of her eyes.
“I’m more sorry about that than you can know. Liverpool sent over that damned note. I hadn’t any choice but to go, Gabriella. I’m so sorry,” he whispered. His lips brushed hers, and she was stunned by the pungent scent. It was her on him she tasted.
She couldn’t decide if she was repulsed or excited. It seemed shameful to be excited, but it didn’t stop her nipples from beading and her sex throbbing.
“I’m going to make it up to you now, darling. You are never to fear me,” he said fiercely. “Do you understand? Never.” He sealed his lips over hers in a promise.
Her breaths sped in the rise and fall of her chest. Her throat closed up. “I-I wish more than anything to believe you,” she whispered.
He ran his palm back over her abdomen then to her hip, his thumb moving, a rhythmic measure brushing her skin. “And you will,” he vowed.
His hand found her clenched fist, and brought it to his lips. Kissing her knuckles in the dark. He did this until her fingers coaxed loose. He laid her hand against the stark cut of his cheekbones. His skin was warm, roughened by the growth of his whiskers. His fingers clasped her wrist, and he moved her hand as if she were a puppet, over his jaw, his eyes, his forehead and down to his lips where he kissed her palm, moistening her skin with the light scrape of his tongue. He suckled the heel of her hand, then released his hold, and cupped her breast. The covers she’d clung to earlier, had been abandoned. Cool air touched her sternum. He lowered his head and kissed the space between her breasts.
“Your skin is softer than the velvety petals of a rose. The scent, even sweeter. You leave me humbled. Breathless,” he breathed.
