Page 23 of The Scarred Duke's Bride
Slowly but surely, she relaxed, even risking a glance over her shoulder to look at him. He seemed to be asleep. For some reason, that filled her with annoyance.
She turned away from him, flouncing a little, and closed her eyes determinedly.
“Good night, my lady.”
She jumped a bit, her eyes flying open, and she rose on one elbow, turning to stare at him. He still lay prone, facing away from her, his broad back all she could see, his dark hair gently brushing against his shoulders. She stared for a while, but he didn’t move. Lying back down on her pillows, she sighed, “Good night, Eric.”
She didn’t think she would be able to sleep for a long time, and so she was surprised when sleep pulled her under, and she settled into the secure arms of Morpheus.
* * *
Eric got up on one elbow, staring down at his wife. She was sleeping soundly, chest gently rising and falling, the twin peaks of her creamy breasts visible from the low cleavage of her negligee.
It had taken every ounce of his self-control last night not to touch her, pull her to him, and cup her breasts beneath the silky satin. He had wanted to run his hands all over her body, just to feel the contrast between the silkiness and pillowy soft goodness of her flesh.
Her negligee didn’t leave much to the imagination, and he was surprised at the womanliness of her body, having thought of her as a green girl, barely grown. Her body told a different story with her lush breasts, perky and alert, begging for touch. Her small waist that he felt he could encircle with a single hand. Her hips, jutting out in soft, curvy contours. It was more than any red-blooded man should be asked to do — to keep his hands to himself.
But he had managed.
Now, here he lay, next to her sleeping form, her impossibly shiny auburn hair spread on the pillow like autumn leaves, her long neck and blue vein exposed just begging for him to lean down and suckle, maybe bite down and feel her pulse ratcheting upwards.
What he would not actually do it.
He scrambled out of bed before she woke up and caught sight of his tumescence. He had no illusions. He was well aware that she was disgusted by him, his ugly scar curving a path from chin to left arm in a jagged, mottled line. She had told him as much last night when she asked him to cover his chest and save her from having to see it.
But Eric wanted no illusions between them. He did not want to trick himself into thinking that they might have something between them. It was better to always have that reminder than to allow himself to fall for somebody who could only find him abhorrent.
Walking to the dressing room, he shut the door behind himself and leaned against it with a sigh. He closed his eyes, his hand moving downward and circling his hardness, squeezing and massaging as he groaned, his mind in the next room on the bed. His free hand cupped itself, palm itching, wanting to touch the actual bosom in his imagination.
How tight would she be if I tried to penetrate her?
In his hand, his erection jumped, getting harder at the thought. He moaned, undulating against the door as he pictured her in his arms, begging for him, lifting her own silky negligee, and urging him to possess her fully.
He cried out and then stuck his fist in his mouth as jets of spend splattered on the floor.
Silver will not be happy about this.
The thought made him laugh in bitterness and despair. He and Freya had gotten themselves into an impossible situation.
Truly caught between a rock and a hard place. How might we negotiate this landscape and come out intact?
Eric didn’t know.
Crossing over to the pump, he filled the bucket with water, and then stepping into the tub, he poured it over himself. He really needed the cold water to help cool himself down. He realized as he stood in the tub, banyan wet and clinging to him, that he needed to come up with a plan.
Otherwise, we are all going to end up getting hurt.
ChapterTwelve
Freya was surprised when Eric asked for some brandy to go in his tea at the breakfast table. She quirked an eyebrow at him, and he smiled wryly. “The sun’s over the yard arm somewhere in the world.”
She didn’t deign to answer but simply went back to her scrambled eggs, forking them delicately into her mouth. While she could not deny that sleeping next to him had added a new layer of intimacy to their relationship, it also made her feel increasingly awkward around him.
“What? Nothing to say aside from silent contemptuous judgment?” he asked.
She looked up sharply, glaring at him. “Are you trying to provoke me?”
“And why would I do that, pray tell?”
