Page 63 of The Scarred Duke's Bride
“Wou-would you mind kissing me?” he asked.
Immediately, she swooped in and captured his lips with her own. Having been paying attention, she applied her acquired knowledge by swiping her tongue into his mouth and sucking hard at his. His hands on her back were tight, holding her fast against him as he groaned into her mouth. He began to undulate slowly, and she instinctively rubbed herself against him.
“Yes.” She closed her eyes panting, “Yes, please!”
He grabbed onto her hips, holding on tight. “Wait.”
She opened her eyes and stared at him in disbelief. “I beg your pardon?”
“I will not have your first time be a hurried thing in a bathtub.”
Freya opened her mouth to say she didn’t mind at all, but he was already lifting her off him and getting to his feet. He held out a hand to her. “Come with me.”
She put her hand in his and let him pull her up and lead her to the bed. He grabbed one of the towels on the bed and began to dry her off, slowly.
She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and reveled in his touch.
He paid attention to every part of her, rubbing slowly, making sure she was dry, igniting her senses and making her body flush as he touched her intimately yet impersonally. Grabbing her breasts, he squeezed and then rubbed before pinching her nipples until they peaked. Lastly, he rubbed her hair dry before throwing the towel on the bed.
He took the other towel and wiped himself down before sitting on the bed beside her. She looked at his scar, deliberately, and reached out to run her finger along it from its inception on his upper cheek, right down his face and neck, following the way it curved around his arm to the elbow. She covered his elbow with her hand, squeezing.
“It really does not repel you?” he asked softly.
In answer, she reached forward and began to kiss him, starting from his upper cheek where the scar began and all the way down to his elbow. He sat still and let her, his eyes on her the entire time.
She straightened up and looked in his eye. “It does not repel me.”
ChapterTwenty-Four
Eric could admit to himself that he was terrified. At this point, however, it seemed silly to continue to disbelieve Freya— perhaps also stubborn and stupid. He reached for her, and she fell into his arms without hesitation. He caressed her hair, smoothing it down her back before tingling his fingers into it. He cradled her head, looking into her eyes intently. “I want to make love to you. May I?”
Slowly, she nodded without looking away from him, and he smiled before swooping in to capture her lips with his. He kissed her thoroughly, deeply, letting his need pour into her, unreservedly.
She moaned into his mouth, clutching at his shoulders, her nails digging into his flesh. He pushed her backward slowly until she was lying on the pillows, a gift, a feast, ready for him to consume.
He sat back, just drinking her in, relishing her creamy soft skin, flushed with arousal and quivering in anticipation. She had a tiny scar just beneath her left breast, and he traced it with his finger. “What happened here?” he asked softly.
She peered downward, lifting her breast to take a look, and then grimaced. “It was a stays accident. The whalebone shot out of it and scratched me.”
He rubbed at it as he smiled at her. “God help you when the clothes attack.”
She huffed in amusement, rolling her eyes. “Indeed.”
He reached down and kissed the scar as softly and gently as she had kissed his.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He got to his feet, so as to be able to straddle her, and then leaned down to kiss her sweetly, slowly, just relishing the taste of her.
His hands traced the curves of her body, and she widened her legs to receive him. He snuggled his hips between her legs, murmuring words of praise all the while as he nuzzled her neck, breathed into her ear, and nipped at its tip.
“Oh…” she whispered hoarsely, her throat working as she threw her head back, giving him room to continue his explorations.
He positioned his hips, allowing his hardness to trail along her groin in benevolent warning of his intent. She widened her legs further, giving her permission. “Freya,” he breathed before gently touching her warm wetness with his fingers in search of that nub that would set her afire.
It did not take long to find it, and he got to work immediately, rubbing and squeezing and providing all the necessary friction she needed to grind against him. She moaned, louder and louder, her hands scrambling for purchase as if she wasn’t quite sure how to use them anymore.
He took hold of himself and started pushing into her slowly and gently as he watched her eyes for any sign of pain. They were wide with arousal and hunger but no pain that he could see.
