Page 98 of A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Heirs

Unable to form the simple word, she nodded.

He smiled, and—his eyes never leaving hers—he made quick work of the three ties, then pulled the gown from her shoulders. He peppered kisses across her shoulders, and she inhaled his scent—warm cardamom and woodsy sandalwood, with the faintest touch of turpentine. As he continued to tug her gown down her body, his lips traced every inch of newly exposed skin.

She slipped her arms from the sleeves, allowing him to pull the garment down and reveal her breasts.

Kneeling beside her on the bed, he sat back on his heels and stared down at her. “Even more beautiful than I imagined.”

At the sight of him, something tender and fierce unfurled inside of her, as though her heart recognized its home. His long hair flowing free curtained his face, the defined muscles of his shoulders and arms bunching with restrained strength. For an artist, he was no stranger to taking care of his body. Tentatively, she stretched her hand up and ran her fingers over the ripple of muscles on his abdomen to where a fine line of dark blond hair trailed from his navel and disappeared beneath the waistband of his trousers.

Her gaze drifted lower, where the taut fabric of his trousers left little to the imagination. When she dropped her hand to touch him, his eyelids shuttered, and he sucked in a harsh breath.

Emboldened by his response, she rubbed him harder.

He pressed his hand against hers, halting her ministrations. “You keep that up, and I’ll spend in my trousers.” Raspy and raw,his voice strained with effort as he spoke. “And unless you stop me, I really want to be inside you.”

Her own voice husky with desire, she said, “I don’t want to stop you.”

“Bene—good.” He leaned down, his hand rising to cup her face. His thumb skimmed her cheek as he pressed his lips to hers in an endless kiss. Soft, slow, and deep, each caress of his mouth on hers melted into the next, the gentle scrape of stubble a contrast to the silken glide of his lips.

With the same careful attention, he cupped her breast and teased her nipple to a hard peak with his thumb much as she had done to him—the sensation glorious.

Yet, when he dipped his head to her breast, it paled in comparison, and she arched off the bed, her fingers sliding hungrily through his hair. “Oh!”

He continued to suckle, and her mind blanked. She was only feeling, the heavy aching need building low in her abdomen ever growing and insistent.

“Lift your hips for me, cara mia.” His soft command brought her temporarily back to Earth.

When she obeyed, he slipped the nightrail off her completely and tossed it aside.

His gaze drifted over her—slow and deliberate—like a tender caress. “After we’re married, I want to paint you just like this.”

Heat scorched her cheeks and bloomed on the underside of her skin, setting her ablaze.

He smiled, slow and easy, and the look eased her embarrassment. “For my eyes only, of course.”

A thrill of naughtiness tripped up her spine, and she gave a languorous stretch, the rustle of sheets accenting the silence that enveloped them like a cocoon.

His smile widened. “You, my dear Juliana, are a temptress.”

Like a powerful cat, he reclined beside her and resumed his kisses.

“Won’t you remove your trousers?” Throat so parched, her voice cracked like dry paper.

“My trousers are the one thing keeping me from ravishing you like a man possessed, and I want you to find your pleasure first.”

When he lowered his hand to tease her between her legs, she cried out and clung to his shoulders with a punishing grip. “Oh!” The aching need grew almost unbearable, and she arched into his touch.

“Oh, Juliana,” he whispered, his voice thick with wonder.

Each kiss became more passionate, and as their tongues tangled in a frenetic dance, he inserted one finger while, with his thumb, he rubbed little circles over the sensitive spot between her legs, driving her wild. Movement of his fingers matched that of his tongue—swirling, probing, driving her to the brink of madness.

Pressure built within her as he continued his sweet torture, and she drew closer to the precipice of pleasure. When he broke their kiss and instead suckled at her breast once more, her mind shattered into a million glorious little sparks of light, and she fell into a sublime oblivion.

“Oh, God! Victor!”

He quickly silenced her cries of ecstasy with a kiss until the waves of her release eased. Never before had she experienced such a sense of abandon and decadent rapture.

Boneless with bliss, her limbs melted onto the mattress, as though she had become only sensation and breath. Satisfaction flowed through her like warm honey. When his kisses ended with a quick peck on her nose, she gazed at him with wonder. “You really love me.” All doubt dissipated when she saw the evidence in his eyes.

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