From Ambrose... and from herself.
Complete and utter surrender.
That was the price she was willing to pay.
He rolled her swollen nipple between his fingers, toying with it almost absently, as if her breasts were an afterthought whilst his other hand played between her thighs. Stroking. Patting. Circling. Coaxing hertowardsomething, although she knew not what.
Then the fingers on her nipple clamped down as the finger dancing along the seam of her dampness plunged inside of her, and the unearthly combination of pain and pleasure was... cataclysmic.
On a soft cry, she arched her spine away from him which only served to drive her pelvis further onto his hand. Her eyes sprang open, revealing both her surroundings and a completely unexplored realm of sated desire.
“Easy,” Ambrose murmured in her ear as her body started to tremble and her knees shook, muscle and tendon that had held her sturdily her entire life giving way in a blink. “I’ve got you, Mara. I’ve got you.” He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her against the firm wall of his chest as the spinning world steadied and she found her footing.
“What... whatwasthat, Ambrose?” she breathed, half afraid to ask but too intrigued not to.
“Your first orgasm, and I suppose I’ve myself to blame. Our wedding night was hardly the stuff of legend.” He traced a line across her ribcage before retying her robe. “I was half drunk, and impatient, and nervous to bed a virgin.”
“Youwere nervous?” she said dubiously.
His grinned into her hair. “Does that surprise you?”
This entire day surprised her.
Ambrosesurprised her. At least, this version of him—a side of himself that he’d so rarely showed her. Passionate. Vulnerable.
Kind.
The husband she had once hoped to marry instead of the cold-hearted tyrant she’d ended up with.
“I was nervous, too.” Spying a pitcher of water on a nearby table, she extricated herself from Ambrose’s grasp and poured two glasses, but when she held one out he declined and went to the liquor cabinet instead.
“Nervous? You were shaking like a leaf.” Filling the bottom of a crystal tumbler with amber brandy, he sloshed the liquid around before taking a sip and propping his rugged length against a bookshelf. His dark hair, uncharacteristically disheveled, hung low over his brow, granting him a decidedly rakish appearance as the edge of his mouth curled with amusement. “I wasn’t sure whether you were going to bolt or burst into tears.”
“I wanted to do both,” she admitted before taking a drink of water and finding a seat on the velvet corner of a chaise lounge. The storm had quieted, thunder and lightning giving way to a steady rain. So, too, had Mara’s pulse calmed, the frantic flutter settling to a steady throb as she contemplated her husband over the rim of her glass. “But my sister advised me not to move.”
“Lovemaking isn’t a tooth extraction,” Ambrose said dryly. “You’re permitted to express yourself. It’s encouraged, even.”
“I was frightened.”
“Yes. Yes, you were. And I handled it bloody poorly.” A shadow rippled across his countenance. “For that I am sorry, Mara.”
And for the rest of it?She wanted to ask.For abandoning me here. For treating me as a means to an end instead of a wife. For promising me one life and giving me another. Are you sorry for that, as well?
She took a deep breath. “Ambrose—”
“I have considered your wish to have an affair,” he said, cutting her off. “And I’ve decided to help you.”
“Help me,” she repeated blankly.
“Indeed.” He tapped his finger—the same finger that had been in her—along the side of his tumbler before taking another sip. “You’ll want to make certain that you pick the right partner, and I can assist you.”
Mara paled. “I don’t think—”
“If some cad is going to sleep with my wife, shouldn’t I be part of the decision-making process?” he queried, arching a brow.
“I never said I planned tosleepwith—”
“There’s also the matter of your preparation.” He clucked his tongue. “You cannot hope to attract the sort of high caliber lover that a woman of your stature deserves unless you’ve some tricks up your sleeve.”
