Page 20 of Spellbound
“You could join me next time,” she offered. “I think I would like to share that with you.”
The breath shuddered from him and his eyes darkened in that very telling way. Then the chemise, the last barrier between them, simply fell away. Nude save for her stockings and garters, she let out a small sound of protest when he lifted her in his arms. But it was only momentarily. He placed her on the narrow bed and then delicately undid the laces of her kid boots, also borrowed from Genie.
When he joined her on that bed, his body coming down atop hers, as that was the only way they could both lie there, it creaked in protest. Neither of them paid it heed. They were far more focused on one another. And as his lips claimed hers yet again, they were pressed together—naked flesh to naked flesh. It was more glorious than she could ever have imagined. And it was only the beginning.
Desmond watched her intently.Every slight sigh. Every man. Every time she closed her eyes and arched beneath him, he committed those moments to memory. He was building a collection of knowledge to use at leisure, a catalogue of all that she found pleasurable.
When he lowered his head, placing his lips at the turgid peak of one breast and then the other, she moaned. It sounded like the sweetest of songs to his ears. Teasing, tasting, taunting the tender buds with his tongue, he stoked the fire that was raginginside her as surely as he stoked the one burning within himself. He’d never been driven by such need, by such painful urgency.
Beneath him, she parted her thighs, cradling him against her intimately. It was a blatant invitation and one that he longed to accept. But first, he had to know that she was ready for him. He had to know that it would be an experience that would bring her the same degree of pleasure it would afford him.
Sliding his hand along her inner thigh, he cupped the mound of her sex. Instantly, her hips flexed, rising up, pressing herself more fully against him, eager for his touch. He slipped one finger between the soft folds, finding her flesh already slick with desire. Still, he was in no hurry. He had the entire night for his own pleasure. He had the entirety of their lives for it. So he took his time, stroking and teasing, pressing into her more deeply until she gasped and cried out his name, only to pull back. Again and again, he did this, bringing her to that precipice and stopping.
“Desmond, for the love of God, do not stop,” she implored him, even as she reached for the fall of his breeches, the buttons giving way beneath her questing hand. “Not now. Not this time. I can’t wait any longer.”
It was what he’d been waiting to hear. Pulling her hand away, he shifted slightly, just enough to free himself from the constraining fabric. And then he was poised at her entrance, eager to feel the heat of her around him. But even in his eagerness, he hesitated.Because he hated the very idea of causing her pain.
“Please,” she murmured again, breathless with need.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I’m hurting already. I ache for you,” she admitted. “I need you. Now.”
It would take a man far stronger than he was to resist such a plea. With a single thrust, he buried his rigid length inside her.Her nails dug into his shoulders and her legs locked firmly about his hips.As if he had any intention of leaving her.
It was a wild spiral then. Their movements grew rapid and more forceful. Their breathing grew more labored. And finally, when she tumbled over the edge, her soft pleasured cries carried him with her.
NINETEEN
It was morning before they reached Highwood Abbey. They’d spent the night in her cottage, the two of them tangled together in that narrow bed. It had been glorious. Magical. All the things she could have possibly wished for had been surpassed. Patient. Thorough. Skilled. She was not so naive as to think that the marriage bed was always a pleasant experience for women. She’d heard far too many terrible stories from women whose husband’s were brutes at worst and inept at best. But Demond had been neither. In truth, she’d never dreamed it could be what he had shared with her.
When she felt his hand brushing her hair, she sighed. It was all she could do not to lean into that simple caress. “I’m certain I look a mess. You appear to be much more adept at getting a woman undressed than the other way around.”
He grinned at her. “I’m a passable ladies’ maid, but my skills with hair dressing are decidedly lacking. You do appear a bit… mussed.”
That was putting it mildly. “Your sister will be scandalized.”
“Hardly. My sister and Thomas were married for several years. And by all accounts had a very ‘healthy’ marriage.”
Belladonna’s brow furrowed slightly. “She misses him terribly, doesn’t she? I confess that I did not know him well. I saw him in the village from time to time and he was always a pleasant gentleman. Unfailingly polite and kind to me when others were not.”
“That certainly sounds like Thomas. I sometimes think he died simply because he was too good to be part of this world… but you should tell Edwina that. It would make her happy to hear it, I think.”
She would do that, Belladonna decided. Knowing that others remembered him fondly might be a comfort to her. “I am afraid your sister may not be thrilled with our marriage.”
“Oh, I think she is. I think that when Edwina realizes how happy you have made me, that she will be nothing short of ecstatic.”
His comment about happiness gave her pause. Because she realized she was happy, as well. And it wasn’t simply carnal pleasure. It was him. His openness, his willingness to accept her just as she was. And all of the things she’d sworn to herself just prior to their wedding, that she would protect him by guarding her heart—all that had simply fallen by the wayside. There was no denying, not to herself at any rate, that she was half in love with him already. She might have been half in love with him from their first kiss, if not their first meeting.
“I am so very frightened,” she admitted, her voice soft and low within the confines of the carriage. “I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you. I fear I would not have the same strength that your sister does in mourning her husband.”
“Then nothing will happen to me. Because I will never cause you a moment’s pain,” he insisted.
A shiver of uneasiness raced along her spine. Not a premonition in the true sense of the word, but certainly a feelingof foreboding came over her. “Do not. Do not tempt fate by promising things that are not within the realm of your control.”
His smile faded somewhat. “I vow to you, Belladonna, that nothing this side of Heaven or Hell will take me from you. Curses and crazed vicars be damned.”
She longed to believe that. Desperately. But there was no chance to discuss it further. The carriage halted before Highwood Abbey and he alighted first, before reaching in to help her down.
