Sebastian couldn’t stop himself. He was no longer a man. He’d gone wild, slaking his lust with the woman he’d dreamed about nightly for so long. He was on fire for her, and nothing could stop him. Nothing except a word from her. Only she hadn’t stopped him. Instead, her head was thrown back, her eyes were tightly shut, and she was making whimpering noises in the back of her throat that made him want to cum so hard.
But he couldn’t. Not yet. They might be pretending this week, but he’d be damned if she pretended in bed. No. Every single one of those little sobs, every clamp of her knees against his hips, every rake of her nails down his back, told him the truth. She wanted this. She wanted him. And she was enjoying it. But he intended to make it even better for her.
Sweat beaded on his brow. “God, I’ve wanted you…for so. Damn. Long.” Each word was punctuated by a long stroke. Every thrust sent a shiver up his spine, one that clutched at his bollocks and made him want to spend himself. But he couldn’t. Not yet. Not while she was yet unfulfilled. After all, he wanted her to want more, didn’t he? So much more.
Veronica was mindless. She couldn’t talk, couldn’t think, could only move her hips in time to his thrusts while she struggled for the release she knew he could give her, the release she wanted so badly.
Gasps hitching in her throat, she bit his neck, sucking on the slightly salty skin while his finger moved between them again to rub her in the spot where she wanted it most.
God. What had he just said to her? He’d wanted her for so long? That was hot. She’d be lying to herself if she didn’t admit she’d wanted him, too. That she’d laid in bed alone at night at Edgefield Hall, remembering the nights he’d made her body come alive. The way he’d touched her, stroked her, licked her, kissed her until she was a quivering mass of need in his arms and then he’d released her. Let her soar among the clouds, shivers racking her body while he stroked into her and took his own pleasure. She’d missed it. Blast it. She’d missed this. She’d wanted him for so long, too.
“Cum for me, Veronica,” he growled in her ear. “Say my name,” he demanded.
The pressure built between her legs as he pumped into her and rubbed her until Veronica was a mindless, panting mess. Her thighs quivered, her knees clamped tightly against his hips, and she was making tiny sobs in the back of her throat. “Yes. Yes. Yes,” she breathed against his neck over and over before letting her head fall back. And with a keening cry, she called his name while the exquisite feeling overtook her, and her legs trembled before she went limp.
“I’m sorry, love. I can’t…stop,” he groaned, pumping into her one last time, and growling her name against her rumpled hair before falling to a spent heap atop her.
Chapter Seven
Sebastian propped the pillow behind his head and frowned at the far wall of the bedchamber. Immediately after they’d made love, Veronica had called for a bath and disappeared into the next room while the footmen brought up steaming buckets of water. She couldn’t even stand to remain in the same room with him while the bath was prepared.
Damn it. He wasn’t proud of himself. His performance in bed just now especially. He’d behaved like an untried schoolboy. He hadn’t been with a woman—with Veronica—for over two years. And even though he’d told himself repeatedly on the journey here that he would have to think of something else, anything else, in order to control himself, the first time he touched her, the moment his fingers met her soft skin, all of his good intentions flew from his mind. He’d been overcome with lust, completely out of control. It had been far too long.
Veronica had enjoyed herself. He knew that much. She might think the worst of him, but she’d wanted him. She couldn’t fake the wetness between her legs or the moans she’d made deep in her throat, and when he’d asked her if she wanted him, he’d seen the truth deep in her dark eyes. And then he’d made her come apart with his finger. He smiled to himself. He’d wanted to do it with his tongue, but there’d be time for that later. Oh, yes. That had been the best part. The way her thighs had quivered. The way her knees had clamped him. The way she’d tossed back her head and raked her fingers through his hair. He could feel the need building inside of her and when she’d found her release, she hadn’t been faking that. He could tell she’d found pleasure beneath his touch. They might be estranged, but he wasn’t such a scoundrel that he’d forced himself on a woman who didn’t truly want him.
He had to wonder, however. Had she also been celibate all this time? The way she’d said, “It’s been so long,” made him wonder. Perhaps she’d meant with him, but he hoped she’d meant with anyone. He wanted to believe that. Of course, he hadn’t ever dared to ask, or to pretend he cared. It was an unspoken rule that she would not produce someone else’s bastard and try to pretend as if it was his child, but he hadn’t been able to contemplate the idea that she may have been unfaithful. Though she’d been convinced he’d been unfaithful to her, which allowed her an excuse. It was just that…the thought of another man touching Veronica ripped Sebastian apart inside. It made him want to destroy things. He didn’t want to contemplate it even now. But something in her demeanor, her words, her uncertainty at first, had told him she’d been untouched all this time. And that thought made him smile, made him breathe a sigh of relief. The woman may not trust him, but God, how he wanted her. Even now. Their lovemaking hadn’t slaked his desire. It had only inflamed it. He wanted her again. Already.
A faint noise coming from the bath chamber caught his attention. She was…humming. He grinned, then pushed himself out of the bed, located his breeches, and pulled them on.
Clad only in his breeches, he strolled into the bath chamber, where he stopped near the door and propped his shoulder against the frame, watching her as she soaped a slender arm. “Might it be that our, ahem, time in bed this afternoon is the reason for your good mood?”
Her eyes widened, and she dunked beneath the water until the bubbles covered her head. A moment later, she emerged tentatively, ensuring the bubbly water covered her breasts. Such a shame.
“What are you doing in here?” she asked, eyeing him carefully.
He arched a brow. “You object? After what we just did in the bedchamber?”
A shocked smile played across her pink lips, and she splashed water toward him. “This isn’t the bedchamber,” she answered primly, lifting her nose in the air.
He pushed himself away from the door and stalked toward her, capturing her gaze with his. When he reached the side of the tub, he leaned down and trailed a finger into the steamy water. “Yes, but I also seem to recall a time in Paris when we—”
“Sebastian!” She clutched an arm over her breasts this time.
He chuckled. “Ah, I see you remember it too.” He leaned across the tub, bracing a hand on each side and gave her a positively roguish stare. “Baths can be quite amusing with the right partner.”
She gave him a condemning glare. “Be that as it may,” she said, clearing her throat. “I would like some privacy now, if you don’t mind.”
“A pity,” he said with a sigh before straightening and turning back toward the door. “But I’ll go.”
Sebastian sauntered back into the bedchamber, retrieved his shirt, and pulled it over his head. Yes, even after their lovemaking—he refused to call it anything else, even if she insisted on it—it was clear his stubborn wife still didn’t trust him. He’d told her he hadn’t been with Melissa, at least not sexually, but Veronica refused to believe it. She had proof of his lie in the form of a note from Melissa. But the fact remained he hadn’t touched Melissa since well before his and Veronica’s engagement, let alone the wedding. What his stubborn, infuriating wife didn’t know was that he actually had been madly in love with her. Only he hadn’t said it before…before she’d left him. And now he had to live with that regret.
Veronica watched Sebastian leave the bath chamber and close the door behind him. She couldn’t tear her eyes off his enticing backside. The man had been blessed with an unmercifully fit body and this afternoon she’d had the chance to see it once more. See it. Touch it. And feel it. A shudder ran down her spine. She hadn’t been hallucinating in the bath chamber at his town house the other night. He was godlike and the muscles on his abdomen were even more impressive when she was running her fingers along them.
He was also a master with his fingers and his mouth. That was all there was to it. He’d broken down her defenses and made her feel…everything again in just minutes. But oh, God, the best part. The best part hadn’t even been when she’d shattered into a million little pieces against his fingertip…the best part was when he’d pumped into her again and again, sweat beading on his brow, apologizing for his performance because he couldn’t control himself. That had been the best part, and she’d squeezed him with her inner muscles as tightly as she could while she raked her nails down his strong back because she knew that drove him mad.
It had been…magnificent. Only…she hadn’t planned to enjoy herself so much.
Tears sprang to her eyes. But not tears of sadness. Tears of anger. She was angry at herself. It was so good with him. She’d allowed him to break down her defenses so quickly. He’d always been able to do that to her. How? Why? She wanted him with an intensity that frightened her. Again. Already.
