Page 17 of A Whisper of Desire
This wasn’t the first time she’d been alone in a bedchamber with him, but it was the first time she wanted more to happen. It was the first time she would bewitha man, and Marisa longed for him to erupt with the burning fire that she’d experienced in his arms once before.
She answered him. “You have much to learn about me. I very rarely ever do anything I don’t want to do.” She looked into eyes swirling with molten heat. “Bear with me, as my knowledge only goes so far and you’ll have to guide me.” She stood on tiptoes and pressed her lips to his.
She heard the book drop to the floor and his arms came up to wrap her in his knowing embrace. He pulled her flush with his chest and her feet actually left the ground as his mouth consumed her.
She clung to his broad shoulders, swept along by the sensations his tongue created as it conquered the inside of her mouth.
Marisa was soon lost in the kiss, bombarded by his fresh sandalwood fragrance and his ruthless lips, which demanded her submission. A groan rumbled deep within his throat, echoing the cry she held back; she badly wanted to let the sounds escape.
The fire began to flame through her, coaxing her to press closer and run her hands down the defined muscles flexing in his back. She wanted to touch his skin. Would her touch set his skin aflame as hers surely was? Impatience was her middle name, and she quickly worked her hands between their bodies and pulled at the tie holding his robe closed. The idea of running her fingers down his back disappeared when she realized the open robe gave her access to the placard of his breeches. Curiosity was her worst sin, her mother had once told her when she’d been caught trying to peek at Sebastian and one of the girls from the village. She couldn’t imagine what they did every day in the hayloft. It was hot and itchy in there. Now she understood perfectly what the pair had been doing, and she wished she’d seen far more before she’d been caught. Perhaps then she’d know what to do now.
Instinct was a fine thing, but it took a young lady only so far. She ran her finger down the bulge beneath his breeches and heard his hiss of indrawn breath. He obviously liked that.
She grew bolder and slipped her hand through the flap she’d managed to pry open. It had been a long time since she’d felt like a gauche girl, but her lack of experience was very off-putting. She was so preoccupied with her exploration, she did not notice that Maitland had stilled. Their mouths remained joined, but he wasn’t moving his lips over hers.
Her hand halted its tentative exploration of his raging erection. It was as impressive in size as her husband. His lips left hers and she slowly dragged her gaze from his groin up to his face. His eyes were like molten pools of lava, so hot they scorched her skin where they observed.
“I want our joining to be everything you could possibly desire. Are you brave enough to give yourself over to me, to trust I’ll make this unbelievably special for you?” Those seductive words ignited a burning in her all over again. This is the man she had met in the alcove, not the contained, standoffish friend of her brother’s—gosh, was it only last night she’d been in his arms, feeling that fire?
She merely nodded, her mouth dry.
“Will you allow me to instruct you?”
She pressed closer, purring like a kitten. “I did swear to honor and obey.”
He stepped away, putting her at arm’s length, but his answering, slow-burn smile sent her insides aflutter. She’d do anything to feel his hands on her bare skin again.
“Remove your night rail.” The words were gruffly spoken but held such want and need, she hardly realized that by complying she’d be laying bare her body and probably her soul.
The flimsy silk fell from her shoulders and she felt a moment’s uncertainty before she let the scrape of material drift through her fingers and down her body. The only thing that stopped her from trying to cover herself was the look in Maitland’s eyes.
“You are so beautiful, it hurts just looking at you.” He moved toward her slowly, his bare feet making no sound on the plush Persian rug. With a soft sigh he put his hands on her bare skin and bent to kiss the curve of her neck where it met her shoulder. His lips on her skin, in a place no man had ever touched her, branded her his more than her wedding band. His hands slipped down and under her breasts, carefully lifting them in his palms. They swelled, filling his hands. She shuddered, overcome with sensations from one simple touch. Her head fell backward as he traced a warm path with his tongue from her shoulder to the hollow of her throat. His featherlike lips left promises of more to come, and she swayed on her feet as her eyes closed to better experience the onslaught.
“Beautiful,” he whispered, when he reached her ear. At his words her eyes flew open. Many men had called her beautiful, but none with such unfettered sincerity.
He stepped back and she tried to focus as his robe fell from his body. His chest was even more impressive than she remembered. He was broad and intricately sculptured, the smattering of hair the only thing hinting that he wasn’t made of marble, but that he was, in fact, flesh and blood.
He was confident and assured, unlike Marisa, who felt exposed, standing naked before him. His green eyes were no longer caressing her face but were focused on her breasts. They seemed to swell even more under his perusal, the tips protruding as if begging for his attention.
She lowered her eyes and saw he also had a body part protruding from the placard of his breeches.
He quickly removed his trousers and his erection stood tall and proud, with a bead of liquid glistening in the firelight.
“Look what you do to me.” He gripped his shaft and worked his hand upon it. “Lie on the bed for me. I don’t trust myself to touch you yet, I’m so close to losing control…”
She did as he requested. She wasn’t sure how she should lie for him, but as if reading her mind, he directed her again from where he stood at the end of the bed, stroking his manhood.
“Bring your knees up so your feet are flat on the bed and then drop your legs open.”
Her body trembled with trepidation and excitement. Embarrassment and heat flooded every inch of her body as she acquiesced to his request. Beatrice told her to forget whatever she’d heard about how a lady was supposed to simply lie still, think of England, and wait for it to be over. Her advice was to give everything of herself in bed, do anything she felt comfortable doing and that she enjoyed. So far, she was enjoying what he’d asked her to do, and the way he ordered her to comply made her insides coil in delicious need. Funny, she’d never been much for taking orders from anyone, but the sensual promise overrode her natural rebelliousness. She enjoyed seeing how her body affected him.
She understood very well why Maitland groaned as she revealed her womanhood to his gaze. He found her desirable, and the power that thought gave her was aphrodisiacal.
His groans made her want what she’d never had. She wanted sex, and she wanted it with a man she barely new. What did that make her?
A bad, bad girl?
Beatrice would say it made her a hot-blooded woman.
