He pulled her into his arms. “Be a husband.” He pushed his fingers through her hair. “What were you going to tell me that night? In the gardens at Lucy’s house?” he asked, searching her face, loving every freckle on her slender nose.
Uneasiness flashed through her eyes. “Who told you I was going to tell you something that night?”
“First Lucy did, then Sarah. Tell me, Meg.”
“They had no right to say anything to you.”
“Perhaps, but I remember, too. You kept trying to tell me something. I wouldn’t let you. I kept interrupting.”
She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Lucy and Sarah seem to think it matters a great deal.”
“It doesn’t,” she insisted. “Kiss me.”
His mouth swooped down to capture hers and he rained kisses down her neck. “It matters to me,” he murmured against her throat.
She grabbed his head. “Not tonight, Hart. Tonight let’s just do this.” She pulled her dressing gown over both shoulders and let it drop. Her naked body gleamed in the candlelight.
Hart’s breathing hitched and he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed. He laid her down and she pulled him down atop her. He fumbled with his breeches and kicked them off. He pushed open her knees and hovered over her. “Tell me you want me, Meg.”
“I want you,” she breathed.
“Let me show you something,” Hart panted.
***
Meg was ravenous for him. She pulled his hips toward hers, wanting him inside her. Now. But Hart moved down her body. She nearly sobbed as his hips moved away from hers. “No,” she cried, trying to pull him back up to her.
“Wait,” he murmured, kissing the tops of her breasts, her belly, the inside of her thigh. When he spread her legs with his hands on her knees, she bit the back of her hand. What was he planning to…?
Oh God.
His tongue dipped into her cleft and Meg’s eyes rolled back in her head. Lucy had never told her anything aboutthis. His hot tongue stroked her in wave after wave, nudging at the spot that made her thighs tense.
“Tell me you want me,” he murmured again into her softness.
“I want you,” she echoed, crying out and biting the back of her hand to keep from being too loud so the servants wouldn’t hear.
His tongue kept up its gentle assault as wave after wave of lust shot through her. His hands held her knees apart while his mouth worked against her soft flesh. His tongue dipped inside again and again. He moved back up to lick her in that perfect spot over and over and over until she cried out in pure ecstasy. She panted and her breathing hitched when Hart moved back up her body and hovered over her again.
“Tell me you want me,” she demanded, grabbing his head by the hair at the nape of his neck.
“I want you,” he said, pressing her knees apart this time with his thighs. He nudged at the entrance to her body and then there was the smooth slick slide of him as he entered her. She cried out against his shoulder and moved her head back and forth on the pillow. He slid into her and pulled out. “No,” she cried, not wanting him to leave her.
“I want you,” he growled against her throat, sliding into her again.
He stroked into her again. “I want you.” And again. “I want you.” And again. “I want you.”
***
The next morning, Hart was pulling on his breeches when Meg rolled over and stroked his back. He closed his eyes. The touch of her hand was pure torture. He wanted her again. She hadn’t told him she loved him last night. He hadn’t said it, either. God, did he even know what love was?
She also had refused to tell him whatever it was she’d been planning to in Lucy’s gardens that fateful night. Damn it. He clenched his jaw and steeled himself. She made him jealous of other men. She made him crazy with lust. She made him want her again and again. He’d never get enough, but if she couldn’t trust him to tell him what she’d been planning to say, what sort of future did they have together? Trust had to be given and received. If he gave her his heart, if she knew she had it, he would be completely vulnerable to her. He made his way toward his bedchamber.
“Where are you going?” Meg’s voice was still sleep-muffled. He glanced at her—she was gorgeous, his wife. Their children would be gorgeous, too.
“To the club.”
