Page 82 of A Scandalous Bargain
Thomas reached between them and teased her folds. He pressed her clitoris, then speared his fingers into her sheath. She was so tight around him. He released her breast and cupped her nape to kiss her again.
“Please,” she begged. “Now.” She whimpered and breathed his name, the sounds an aural seduction.
Putting his hand over hers, together they guided his shaft into her sex. He went slowly at first, closing his eyes in ecstasy at the spectacular sensations shooting through him. Eager to claim her, he thrust up, hard and deep, burying himself completely.
He held the back of her head as his other hand stroked her backside. “Look at me, Beatrix.”
She opened her eyes, the lush green glowing amidst the warm, chocolate brown. Holding his shoulders, she moved over him, her thighs trembling against his.
He pumped his hips, clutching her body so he could drive into her. Looking into her eyes, he felt an overwhelming sense of joy, of rightness. He kissed her and increased the pace of their joining. Her fingers dug into his flesh.
Before he lost himself, he dragged his hand around her hip and slipped it between them. He flicked his thumb across her clitoris. She gasped into his mouth, and he snagged her lower lip with his teeth. Her muscles clenched around him, drawing a low, shuddering moan from his throat.
He held on as long as he could, filling her as she rode the wave of her release. When she started to ease, her body melting against his, he let go. He pulled her up and turned his hips, his seed spilling to the side.
As his orgasm raced through him, he was shocked to feel her hand curl around his cock, stroking his flesh as he spent himself. He struggled to catch his breath. She was still partially astride him, her legs straddling his lower thigh. He clutched her hip with his right hand, his fingertips splayed across her backside.
“My God, Beatrix. You are a wonder.”
“So are you.” She leaned down and kissed his cheek, his jaw, the hollow beneath his ear. Moving behind him, she burrowed beneath the covers, pulling them up as she snuggled against his side. He felt her breath on his back as her hand splayed across his rib cage.
Thomas closed his eyes, relishing her warmth and the utter peace of this moment. His body slowly stilled, as did hers. That joy he’d felt earlier coursed through him with even greater strength. He almost didn’t recognize what he was experiencing. He was completely overwhelmed, almost robbed of rational thought.
What was happening? Was he in love with Beatrix? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that she made him smile, he thought of her with ever-increasing frequency and intensity, and when he wasn’t with her, he strategized ways in which he could be. And for a man who was supposedly mourning his dead wife, this was difficult.
Right now, the fact that he’d had a wife or perhaps just Thea in particular seemed so far away. Another life, perhaps.
Except ithadbeen his life. He’d been so desperate to find happiness and love that he’d barreled into a marriage he thought would give him both.
Was he doing the same with Beatrix?
He thought back to when he’d courted Thea. He’d originally been interested in Miss Jane Pemberton. But then his attention had been diverted to Thea. Her brother had told him that Miss Pemberton had already bestowed favors of a physical nature on another gentleman. Thomas had been so intent on finding a pinnacle of honesty and kindness that he’d turned his focus to Thea instead.
Then, just recently, he’d learned that Chamberlain had spread that vicious lie about Miss Pemberton with the singular purpose of driving Thomas to Thea. That revelation had come only a few days before Thea’s death, at Chamberlain’s aborted wedding to Miss Pemberton’s sister of all people.
Thomas had thought it was the final insult, that he ought to consider establishing a separate household from his duplicitous wife. But that had been before the she’d sent that most poisonous arrow into his heart: that Regan wasn’t actually his daughter.
If only he’d married Miss Pemberton.
Except then he wouldn’t have Regan at all, and he simply couldn’t imagine that. Nor did he want to. She might not be his blood, but Beatrix had known the truth—she was his daughter in every way that mattered.
Thomas opened his eyes, suddenly realizing that Miss Pemberton, now she was Lady Colton, was blonde and perhaps an inch taller than Beatrix, who was also blonde, as Thea had been. And he’d estimate Thea was an inch shorter than Beatrix. Did that mean he was drawn to women of a certain appearance?
Could it be that he was also drawn to volatile people? Not that Jane had been volatile. He hadn’t come to know her that well, but he recalled her being charming and witty—more like Beatrix than like Thea. Was Beatrix volatile?
He turned and saw that she was asleep, or seemed to be anyway. Her features were relaxed in repose, her lips curved in the barest hint of a smile, as if she was already dreaming of him. That was assuming he made her feel even half as wonderful as she made him feel.
She’d been a fraud and a thief, but he’d never seen evidence of volatility. He wouldn’t count their encounter with the footpads. She’d behaved defensively and bravely. Brilliantly was how he’d describe it best.
That she comported herself with such calm and purpose was in itself remarkable. She’d certainly led a life that would push anyone to their limits. Just her father’s abandonment and the way he’d treated her recently would be enough.
Thomas kissed her forehead and gently stroked her hair. “You’re very brave,” he whispered.
She inhaled through her nose but gave no indication that she’d heard him.
He watched her for a while longer. Her blonde lashes fluttered, and occasionally, her pink lips pursed slightly. He wanted her again with a ferocity that scared him.
Easing from the bed, he dressed. When he was finished, he returned to the bed and pulled the coverlet higher, to just beneath her chin. Hopefully, a housemaid wouldn’t find it odd that Beatrix was nude. Or maybe Beatrix always slept naked.
He grinned, thinking that with her, it was not an impossibility. She was surprising and singular. He’d never met another woman like her and doubted he ever would again.
But he was a man who’d relied too much on emotion and hope, and he couldn’t do that this time. He had to be certain, and the only thing he was sure about right now was that Regan needed him. She must come first, and she would.
Thomas touched Beatrix’s hand through the coverlet. Exhaling softly, he turned and went home to his daughter.
