He stilled at that, then, carefully, he turned her to face him again, studying her in the low light of the room with an expression that made her feel as though he was committing every bit of her to memory.
“I felt as though the house had gone silent,” he stated, his voice roughened. “Not the way it was before – when the silence was simply emptiness. This was different. It was the kind of quiet that only comes when something that was alive has left. I tried to be strong for Reuben. I told myself I would manage. That I had managed before and I would manage again.”
He shook his head slowly, his expression darkening in a way that hurt her heart. “But I was not strong enough without you, Jane. I want you to know that. I never was.”
She reached up and pressed her hand to his jaw, feeling the tension beneath her palm.
“I felt lost,” she told him honestly. “I kept telling myself it was the right choice – the only choice. That I was protecting myself. But there was nowhere I wanted to be. Not my parents' house, not anywhere. There was nowhere in the world I wanted to be except here, with you and Reuben, and I could not admit it because I was so afraid. I do not want to be afraid anymore, Thomas.”
“Then don't be,” he told her simply. “I am here.”
He kissed her again, and this time there was less restraint in it. His hands moved over her with the reverence of someone whohad believed, for a week, that he would never be permitted to do this again. She worked at his jacket, his cravat, the buttons of his shirt, and he helped her when her fingers fumbled. He did not laugh at her mistake, but simply pressed his lips to her temple in a way that was more tender than any jest could have been.
They undressed each other slowly and without haste, stopping to look, to touch, to mark each discovery with the kind of attention that required no words. Jane had thought she might feel afraid, standing before him without the armour of clothing or pretence, but she did not. She felt only warm, and certain, and seen.
“I believe,” Thomas began, a glimmer of something lighter moving across his expression as he lifted her easily, carrying her toward the bed, “It is only fitting that the consummation of our marriage serves as the marker of our new beginning.”
Jane laughed in spite of herself. “You are ridiculous.”
“I am thorough,” he corrected, setting her down with great care. “There is a distinction. Besides, you love me, despite my silliness.
He laid her back against the pillows and knelt over her, pressing kisses to her collarbone, the curve of her shoulder, the soft inside of her wrist, as though he intended to map every part of her before the evening was through. She felt her breath grow unsteady, felt the warmth beneath her skin begin to build into something urgent as she arched into his touch.
His hand moved lower, dipping between her legs, quick and almost as though he was testing the waters, drawing a gasp from her lips.
“Thomas –”
“I know, love,” he murmured soothingly, nuzzling along the line of her jaw. “It’s all right darling. I have you. You are all right.”
He was unhurried and deliberate, watching her face all the while his fingers explored her moist heat, coaxing the flames of desire to burn brighter for him. Jane’s body responded eagerly and she squirmed and whined breathlessly, a slave to the sensations with no desire for freedom. She could feel the tension rising in her, climbing toward its peak and she tried to ready herself for the release, tossing her head back in surrender.
Then he withdrew his hand entirely, and she made a sound of sharp indignation that surprised even herself.
“What – why –” her voice came out in uncertain gasps, and she tried to glare at him but she knew she looked less like a threat and more like a woman drunk on lust.
“Because,” he grinned, his voice low and entirely too composed, “I wanted to see you lose your bearings around me. Entirely. Not just a little.”
The flush that rose to her cheeks was fuelled by mortification and she wished she possessed enough presence of mind to reach out and smack him a little.
“That is unfair,” she managed with a pout.
“Probably,” he agreed, entirely unrepentant, and kissed the inside of her knee. “But I am afraid I am also at my limit. I need to be with you, Jane. Properly.”
Her cheeks burned hotter at the implication of his words and she held her arms out to him.
“Well, what are you waiting for?”
He smirked down at her, leaning forward to steal a kiss from her lips as he spread her legs open and situated himself between them, a hand coming up to grip his member. He aligned it with her entrance, and it was all she could do not to squirm when the tip touched the opening of her folds. Her eyes darted up to his and he stared down at her darkly, all the teasing air gone from him, leaving behind unbridled desire.
“Are you ready for me, my love?”
Jane nodded and that was all the confirmation he needed. Thomas pressed into her and she felt the breath leave her body in a long, quiet exhale, a sharp twinge of pain throbbing where their bodies met. He paused, holding himself still, watching her carefully in concern.
“Are you all right?” he asked gently.
“Yes,” she stated breathlessly. “More than.”
It took a moment to regain her bearings and once she did, she looked up at him and nodded once their eyes met, and he took her silent prompt as the urge that it was. He began slowly, gently, with the careful attentiveness that prioritized her comfort. Jane allowed herself to revel in all the feelings that surrounded them – the warmth of him, the quiet closeness, the way he murmured her name like a prayer, reverent and in awe.
