“More pudding?” Grovemont offered from his side of the table with a bright smile. He’d had nothing but bright smiles for her all day. Apparently, she would have to endure two months of his cheerfulness.
She was tempted to say yes to the additional pudding. But ugh. She was already so full. If she ate one more bite, she might cast up her accounts. “No, thank you.” She stood and spent an inordinate amount of time folding her napkin. She couldn’t meet his gaze. “I suppose I should…”
He stood too. “Retire for the evening?” he offered.
Her only response was a curt nod. “I’ll see you…later.” By way of an invitation to bed, it wasn’t particularly encouraging,but what else was she to say? She turned and strode from the dining room.
An hour later,Gemma was pacing next to her bed. With Anna’s help, she’d put on the night rail from her wedding night. And tonight, she was just as filled with nerves as she’d been that night.
Gemma swiped the back of her hand across her brow. She was sweating. And breathing heavily. What if she’d…forgotten how to go about it? They’d only done it once, after all. She didn’t have enough practice to be any good at it. She winced. What if she did it wrong?
And she hadn’t merely agreed to lie there and accept Lucian’s advances. The contract had been clear. She had to be awilling, if not eager, participant. Thankfully, the solicitor had gone over the details of the contract exhibiting a completely stoic demeanor. But Gemma had read every word multiple times. There would be no getting this over with quickly.
Which frankly meant that she might as well enjoy herself. Thoughthatthought made the nerves even worse.
The soft knock at the door between their rooms made Gemma jump. She promptly forced herself to smooth her hands down the front of her lacy night rail and take a deep breath. She counted to five. “Come in,” she called, hoping the worry didn’t sound in her voice. Only the words came out so faint, she wasn’t certain he’d heard them.
When the door opened, her doubts were put to rest. Lucian was there, standing in the candlelight, wearing the linen breeches he apparently always wore to bed. His chest was even more defined now than it had been the last time she’d seen it. Allsinewy and covered with muscles. Only now he was also tanned. She swallowed hard.
He slowly made his way over to her. “You’re shaking?” Concern lit his eyes, and he reached out to gently cup her shoulders. “How do you feel?”
“I’m frightened,” she admitted, hating herself for the tremor in her voice, hating herself for showing him her vulnerability. Though she had to admit it felt better to say it aloud.
Lucian pulled her into his arms and hugged her, resting his chin atop her head. “Shh. Don’t be frightened. I promise you I won’t hurt you.”
His warm skin heated hers. “I know that, I just…” She justwhat? She didn’t even know how to end that sentence.
He pulled away from her slightly and met her eyes. “Come, sit down,” he offered, taking her hand and leading her to the bed.
They sat side-by-side on the mattress facing each other. His warm hands rubbed up and down her bare arms. “Are you cold?”
“A little.” Gemma watched him with wide eyes and swallowed again. He was being so solicitous. And gentle. Careful with her. It made it difficult to stay angry with him. He didn’t feel any differently about her, she reminded herself. He just wanted her to remain married to him to save face. He couldn’t stand thetonknowing his wife had left him. As soon as the two months were up, he’d go back to being the cold, uncaring man she’d known before. This man, this man who hugged her and rubbed her arms and asked after her feelings, didn’t exist. Shehadto remember that. She had to remember the truth. His attempts at being charming were improving, andthatwas dangerous.
“Come, get under the blankets,” Lucian offered.
They both stood. He pulled back the covers and lifted them, and Gemma slid between them. Lying on the bed, she turned on her side to face him and wiggled backward, leaving room for himto join her. He moved to lay beside her, also on his side facing her. The warmth from his body surrounded her. She sucked in her breath and lowered her eyes to his muscled chest.
“Don’t worry,” he breathed, rubbing her left arm that lay atop her side. “I have no intention of pouncing on you. And if you want me to stop, you only have to say so.”
She nodded, but gooseflesh was already spreading all over her body from his touch. The heat radiating from him made her relax. He smelled good, like soap and pine. She closed her eyes. She remembered it, remembered this, the feel of his hands on her, the way her skin reacted to his touch, the way her breathing hitched when his fingers found a sensitive spot. “I’m more worried that I won’t want you to stop,” she whispered.
His firmly molded lips tugged up in a smile. “I hope so,” he said, catching his bottom lip with his teeth.
Gemma closed her eyes. She felt him move closer, knew his face was only inches from hers. His lips finally touched hers, a soft brush at first. Then another. No pressure. No demand. He was asking her if she wanted it. And damn herself to hell, she did. She scooted closer to keep the contact and pressed her lips to his more fully. Sparks of desire shot through her body, centering between her legs. When her hand curled around his neck and her fingers sifted through his hair, his groan echoed through her head.
Oh, yes, she wanted him. Maybe she shouldn’t, but she did.
One strong arm wrapped around her waist, and he pulled her into contact with his body. She felt him hard and hot against her belly, pressing against her intimately, making her ache. The kiss exploded then. His tongue pushed into her mouth and tangled with hers as his hand moved down to her backside to press her even more tightly against him. She moaned.
“Gemma,” he breathed against her mouth. “I want you.” His voice was deep and rough and intoxicating.
Her answer was to deepen the kiss, to cling to him more tightly.
“Do you want me?” he asked, the slightest hint of vulnerability in his tone.
Tears stung her eyes. His voice sounded slightly…tentative. As if her answer mattered more than he would ever admit. She couldn’t lie.
“Yes,” she admitted, and God help her, she did. She wanted him so badly. She’d wanted this man from the moment she’d first seen him in the study that night at Griffin’s wedding, looking so caught up in his faraway thoughts, a little sad, and a little broken. He was extraordinarily handsome, but that wasn’t the only reason she wanted him. She wanted him because moments like this felt so real. As if they were truly sharing themselves with each other. And she wished it were true. For the moment, for tonight, she would pretend it was real. It was the only way to keep her sanity.
