Page 42 of The Earl's Scarred Bride

"You shouldn't trust me so easily," Cecil murmured, his fingers hovering just above the fastenings of her gown. A shadow of uncertainty crossed his face. "After what I've just revealed about my family's past..."

Elizabeth reached up, her hand catching his. "Trust isn't given because someone is perfect," she said softly. "It's given to those brave enough to be vulnerable."

Her words seemed to shatter something within him. For a moment, raw emotion flickered in his eyes—pain, hope, vulnerability—before he gathered her close. His next kiss was different from any before: not demanding, not teasing, but achingly sincere. Elizabeth's own fingers weren't idle, working at his cravat, his waistcoat, needing to feel his skin against hers. Each newly revealed inch of him made her breath catch—the strong column of his throat, the broad plane of his chest, the ridges of muscle that spoke of hours spent in physical pursuits.

"My beautiful wife," he breathed, finally freeing her from her gown. His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of her in nothing but her thin shift. "So perfect. So—" He broke off as her hands found the buttons of his trousers.

Cecil's hand closed around her wrist, stopping her movement. His breath came ragged, tension evident in every line of hisbody. "Wait," he said, his voice a low, urgent rasp. "We cannot—I will not compromise you completely."

Elizabeth met his gaze, seeing the war of desire and restraint in his eyes. "I'm not some fragile creature to be protected," she whispered, her fingers trailing along his jaw. "I know exactly what I want."

For a moment, something dangerous flickered between them—a shared understanding that went far beyond the physical moment. Cecil's grip on her wrist softened, becoming a caress that spoke of something deeper than mere passion.

"Are you certain?" he asked, and the question held the weight of everything unspoken between them.

Her answer was a simple, breathless "Yes" that changed everything.

Cecil gathered her closer, his lips exploring new paths across her skin. Each touch held reverence, as if he was mapping territory both familiar and thrillingly new. When his mouth found the sensitive hollow of her throat, Elizabeth's fingers tightened in his hair.

"You're a miracle," he whispered against her skin. "Every time I touch you, it feels like the first time all over again." His hands traced patterns down her sides, finding new places that made her gasp and tremble.

Elizabeth arched into his touch, overcome by the tenderness in his exploration. This wasn't like their earlier passionate encounters—this was slower, deeper somehow. Each caress felt like a confession, each kiss a promise.

"Cecil," she breathed, her voice catching as his hands found particularly sensitive spots. Her body remembered his touch, yet somehow each new caress felt like a revelation.

"I know, my love," he murmured, his own voice rough with emotion. "Let me worship you properly. Let me show you exactly how precious you are to me."

His hands, having lingered at her waist, began to explore higher, brushing the sides of her breasts through her shift. Elizabeth's breath hitched at the novel sensation. She'd never been touched like this—with such reverence and care.

"You're exquisite," Cecil whispered against her skin, his fingers tracing patterns that made her shiver. "Every inch of you deserves to be worshipped."

His mouth followed the path of his hands, pressing open-mouthed kisses along her collarbone before moving lower. Through the thin fabric of her shift, she felt the heat of his breath against her breast, making her gasp and clutch at his shoulders.

Cecil's lips brushed against her ear, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. "Shall I show you exactly how much pleasure your body is capable of feeling?"

She inhaled sharply, her breath catching. "You're insufferable," she managed, even as her body betrayed her growing desire.

"Insufferable? Or simply honest? I could make you cry out my name before you even realize what's happening."

Elizabeth's cheeks burned. "You talk far too much."

"Would you prefer I demonstrate instead?" His smile was pure sin. "Because I assure you, I'm very good at proving my point.""Don't stop," Elizabeth breathed, her fingers threading through his dark hair. The sensation of his mouth through her shift was exquisite torture, making her arch into his touch.

Cecil's eyes darkened. "Gladly."

Cecil's hands slid lower, bunching her shift around her thighs. His touch was reverent as he explored the newly exposed skin, making Elizabeth tremble with anticipation. When his fingers brushed her inner thigh, she gasped, her body jerking at the intimate contact.

"Now, spread those pretty thighs and let me make you feel good," he whispered against her skin, his other hand still tracing soothing patterns along her hip. "Let me show you how to come undone."

Elizabeth nodded shakily, overwhelmed by sensation but trusting him completely. She felt his smile against her skin before his fingers slid higher, finding her most intimate place.

The first touch made her gasp, her back arching off the bed. . Cecil's mouth returned to her neck, alternating between kisses and gentle nips as his fingers explored with maddening slowness.

"That's it," he murmured encouragingly as she writhed beneath his touch. "Let go for me, love. Let me see you come undone."

His skilled fingers found a particularly sensitive spot that made Elizabeth cry out, her hand flying to cover her mouth. Cecil caught her wrist gently, pulling it away.

"No," he said softly. "I want to hear you. Every gasp, every moan. You're beautiful like this, lost in pleasure."

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