When I cupped his cheek, he stared down at me. Finally, he broke the silence with a small shake of his head. “Don’t be afraid.”
I smiled. “I’m not afraid. Not with you.”
He didn’t reply, but there was a heat in his gaze that I hoped meant I’d pleased him. I’d been subjected to disapproval since moving in with my aunt and uncle, so it wasn’t surprising that it comforted me to know Clifton didn’t seem to regret our marriage.
He carried me over to the doorway I had studiously tried to ignore. He shifted slightly to open the door, and I expected to find a bedroom not too dissimilar to the one at the inn we’d stopped at that one time. It occurred to me that I should be nervous, but I wasn’t afraid. Instead, every nerve in my body seemed to be tingling with anticipation of what was about to happen.
When I tore my gaze from Clifton’s face, I realized that I’d vastly underestimated our hosts. This bedroom could have belonged to a wealthy lord with its pale-blue walls and rich mahogany furniture. The centerpiece, of course, was the large four-poster bed with rich blue drapes. Beyond that, the counterpane was a patterned navy-and-gold fabric. And in here, as well, a wall of windows faced the pond at the back of the house.
Clifton lowered me onto my feet. “If I do anything that alarms you, just say the word.”
Stopping him was the last thing I wanted, but I nodded. Now that we were here, I was eager to experience what it would be like to make love with him. I wanted a small taste of what existed between Caroline and her husband and between Moreland and Victoria. I couldn’t expect love from Clifton, but I could pretend for now. It would have to be enough.
“Just tell me what you want me to do.”
He replied with a kiss, and I threw myself into it, showing him what I could never say aloud. That I wanted this more than he could possibly imagine.
I didn’t notice, at first, what his hands were doing. I was so wrapped up in the feel of his mouth on mine and in the heat sweeping through my body. I just knew that his hand was at my waist. Before I realized it, he’d managed to unbutton my dress. Granted, it wasn’t a difficult task since Victoria had made sure to pack dresses that could be easily worn by a woman who wasn’t traveling with a maid.
He raised his head and looked down at me, one brow raised in silent question. When I nodded, he turned me around and unlaced my corset. It was a relief to be out of it after so many days of traveling.
I looked over my shoulder at him when his hands stilled. There was a frown on his face.
“Is something the matter?”
He shook his head. “I don’t understand why you’re laced so tightly. You’re not a large woman.”
I bit my bottom lip and turned around. His eyes widened in shock when he saw the secret Aunt Matilda had been trying to hide. My breasts were unnaturally large for my slender frame. She called them unseemly and had gone to great efforts to ensure I always wore a corset that was designed to compress them as much as possible.
Embarrassment filled me. “I know they make me look large, and my aunt didn’t like them at all?—”
Clifton hauled me against him, and the sudden movement stole my breath. “It was a crime to flatten them in such a way, and you are forbidden from doing so again.”
I knew that men liked a woman with a generous bosom, but my aunt had convinced me that without my corset I looked as though I was at risk of toppling over. In retrospect, I realized that she might have exaggerated the problem. “You don’t mind?”
He grinned and then cupped me through my chemise. “You are turning out to be a delightful surprise in so many ways, wife.”
Pleasure shot through me, and I could only moan in reply. The way he caressed me took away my capacity for speech. I’d touched my breasts, of course, but I’d never imagined that such a seemingly simple caress could bring about the sensations flooding through me. I knew what the tightening sensation between my legs signified, but I’d never imagined that having a man touch my breasts could cause it. Clearly, there was a lot that Caroline had left out in our conversations.
Clifton lowered his head then, took the peak of one breast into his mouth, and began to suckle me through my chemise. I clutched his head and had the unsettling thought that I was going to collapse when my legs suddenly felt weak. When I swayed, Clifton swept me into his arms again. He crossed over to the bed and lowered me onto it.
“Please take your hair down. I want to see it.”
It seemed a simple enough request, so I did as he asked. He was watching me, rapt. I couldn’t understand why, but then I saw the way his nostrils flared when the mass finally fell around my shoulders.
Clifton liked my hair. And my breasts. The knowledge filled me with a confidence I’d never experienced before now.
Without a word, he started removing his clothing. I watched silently as he untied his cravat and shrugged out of his topcoat. Then he unbuttoned his waistcoat, and I imagined what it would feel like to be doing that task myself. Perhaps next time, but for now I was content to watch as he removed that too.
His shirt gaped open at the neck, and I could see his muscles, along with a tantalizing display of hair peeking out from the deep V of the shirt. I hadn’t realized that men had hair on their chests.
I held my breath when Clifton began to unbutton the fall of his trousers and said nothing when he removed them. All he was wearing now was his shirt, which dropped down just low enough to cover his manhood. I swallowed hard, my throat dry, but not with fear. I wanted him more than I had ever wanted anything in my life.
He lowered himself to sit on the edge of the bed, and I shifted over to make room for him. His hands moved to my breasts, his eyes intent on what he was doing. Before I could think to protest, he began to lower my chemise. At the last moment, before I was bared to his gaze, he met my eyes.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, his voice husky.
I shook my head, incapable of asking him to continue. But if he stopped now, I might very well die.
