Page 68 of Return of the Viscount
And then he pulled the ribbon of her nightgown, and the neckline parted at her shoulders. His fingers spread it wider, brushing across her sensitive skin, freeing her breasts. Her nudity almost shocked her, but he cupped them and once again worshipped them with his mouth, until she was moaning and moving fitfully in her tangled nightgown. Then he lifted her free of it, and she was naked in his bare arms, feeling every inch of his hot skin against hers. He limped across the room to the bed and spread her out across it, his hands sliding down her torso and thighs as he stood up.
She lay there naked, her hair all around her, and watched him finish disrobing. He bent to remove his trousers and undergarments, and when he straightened, she stared at her first sight of a naked man, his erection prominent in his dark hair. She was distracted by the web of raw-looking scars twisting down his thigh.
“Oh, Michael,” she breathed, wincing in pain for him.
She reached to touch his scars, but he caught her hands.
“Not now. They mean nothing to me.”
And then she forgot them, too, because he stretched out on top of her, every inch of their bodies touching. He felt so different from her, hard where she was soft. She could feel his penis cradled against her belly, strange and threatening and intriguing all at the same time.
He started kissing her again, deep, drugging kisses over and over, taking her mouth, seducing her thoughts and will until she was nothing but aching need. She held him to her, desperate to be closer. She wanted to wrap herself around him, and parted her legs to do so. But then he settled between her hips, rocking against her.
She cried out at this new, deeper, stronger jolt of desire. Pressing herself against him, she murmured, “Please, oh, please, tell me what I should do.”
He chuckled against her neck, and she lifted his head to stare at him, shocked. His mouth was still wide with amusement, his brown eyes soft with warmth.
“I’ll show you everything,” he whispered, “but not so quickly. I feel I’ve waited a lifetime for you.” He slid off her, resting on his side.
She groaned and reached for him.
“Not yet, my inquisitive one. You aren’t in command here.”
Then he kissed her again, and his hands took a journey down her body, caressing and teasing her breasts and belly, moving ever closer to the part of her that burned to be touched, even as somewhere inside her she felt hesitant. She ignored the cautious voice that ruled so much of her life. When his hand slid along her thighs, she only briefly considered holding them shut. But they opened as if of their own accord. His fingers brushed her curls and slid deeper, stroking her. Gasping at the shocking pleasure, she buried her face in his shoulder, unable to look at him when he was doing such brazen things to her.
The pleasure suffused her, built inside her until she was panting. He was gentle at first, then bolder, and she couldn’t help noticing how wet she was, how easily his fingers slid along the crease of her body. She was straining for something elusive and so powerful, then gaped up at him when he suddenly pressed her onto her back.
“Michael!”
He covered her body with his, and she felt his erection slide along her. She shuddered, her need cresting again, when he suddenly drove home. More shocked than hurt, she was amazed that the two of them fit together at all.
He bent to kiss her mouth. “Are you ... all right?” he asked, his voice tense, his expression almost angry, although she knew he wasn’t, not if he felt anything like she did.
“I’m fine. But please—”
She broke off as he pulled back, then surged in again, shocking her very nerves into a rising explosion that, with just one more thrust, sent her helplessly over an edge into a shuddering oblivion of blinding pleasure. He kept moving, harder and faster, and she didn’t know where the first wave of pleasure ended and more began.
She knew when his own climax took him by the way he groaned into her shoulder, then collapsed onto his forearms, bearing much of his weight. They were both breathing hard, gasping, and she could only stare up at him in wonder.
Chapter 16
As Michael gazed into Cecilia’s damp, flushed face, he couldn’t remember a time when he had felt more at peace. His body was still afire with lust, and he could have kept pumping away until he was ready to do it all over again, but his wife had been a virgin.
At last, she was his wife in truth.
She searched his face with wide eyes, her lips parted. She almost seemed bewildered, as if emerging from a dream. Very carefully, he slid out of her body, already missing her as if he’d found what he’d been searching for his whole life. He rolled onto his back, then gathered her against him so that her cheek rested on his shoulder. But she seemed tense, as though she might flee if he made one wrong move. So he said nothing, just stroked her hair where it tumbled in a tangle across his chest.
Then, to his surprise, her eyes drifted closed, and she fell asleep without a word.
Michael was usually the silent one in any relationship, and her behavior briefly puzzled him. But she’d been fearing for her life for days now, perhaps lying awake, listening for footsteps. He winced, remembering how many times he himself had walked past her door as he patrolled the corridors.
He came up on his elbow to blow out the last candle, then drew the blankets over them both. He kissed her tousled hair, silently promising she would never have to be alone with her worry again.
Cecilia slowly came awake, warm to her core, vaguely surprised that sunlight streamed in the windows. She’d never drawn the curtains, she drowsily thought. And she never slept this long.
And then all the rest of her senses returned in a rush as she realized she was lying on her side, that Michael was snug against her back, their naked bodies spooned together, his very obvious arousal nestled against her backside. His large arm encompassed her waist, his hand loosely cupping her breast.
She went tense with surprise and burgeoning regret, even as she heard him snore softly into her ear. Letting out her breath, she closed her eyes, barely stopping herself from groaning loud enough to wake him.
