Page 61 of Love Unraveled
Gaston undid her sash, and she turned back to face him.
“The dress slides easily over my shoulders.”
She held his gaze as he slid the dress off her shoulders, leaving a fiery path in the wake of his fingers. The garment pooled at her feet, and she stepped from it, kicking it to the side. She watched him as her fingers fumbled with the lace on her short stays. He placed a steadying hand over hers and kissed her cheek.
“It is too much,non?” he said, his face looking concerned.
“Oui,” she said, tugging the ribbon and letting her stay fall to the floor. “And not yet enough.” She watched his face as she scooped the bottom of her chemise and raised it over her head. Except for her stockings, she was naked and more vulnerable than she’d ever been in her life.
“Mon Dieu,” he whispered reverently and fell to his knees.
He untied her ribbon, his lips following the trail of silk as he slipped her stocking down her calf, gently lifting her leg and removing her slipper before discarding the silk to the side. He repeated it with her other leg. A chill ran through her. She stood, immobile, both unsure and excited.
Gaston shifted, grabbed her calves, and slightly spread her legs. His tongue ascended slowly. He teased the backs of her knees before continuing upward, alternating between feathery kisses and gentle sweeps of his tongue. When his breath warmed her womanhood, she thought she would swoon, but his hands shifted and held her buttocks securely.
He looked at her and grinned, his eyes dark with sensuality, not humor. Then he nestled between her legs.
“Gaston,non!”
Sophia squirmed as his tongue licked a path, but he held her firmly. When he found her bud, she buried her fingers in his hair. He swirled and sucked, and she wanted to scream. She had never felt such sensation. Pressure built to a crescendo, but rather than shriek, she instead moaned, the lament filling the air more akin to pain than pleasure. It was a surprising sound, for she had never experienced anything so freeing.
Without Gaston’s hands holding her, she might have collapsed. Instead, she stood there, squirming in deliciousness and grabbing at his hair. When the pulsating waves subsided, she looked down and caught the self-satisfied, incredibly smug look on his face. Yet she could feel no anger at his arrogance. She had little experience by which to judge him, but if her rubbery legs were any indication, his lovemaking skills were superb. She tried not to think of how he’d learned such things, for in all fairness, she had taken another man to her bed. Not often, and certainly not like this, but she suspected neither the frequency nor the experience itself lessened the sense of betrayal.
Gaston pursued a slow path of butterfly kisses up her body until he was standing. “Come, my lady, a bath awaits. As does your servant.”
He bowed and urged her toward the large tub, holding her hand as she stepped into it, the warm water soothing as her womanly parts continued to twitch from Gaston’s administrations. He pulled over a stool and rolled up his sleeves before snagging a cake of soap from the small table beside the tub. He dipped it in the water and rubbed it with his hands, lathering it as he watched her. She squirmed beneath his stare, and he smiled. He was extremely confident in the power he wielded, and she should rebel. But he did not hold it like an anvil ready to strike.
Gaston moved out of sight and sat behind her. He kissed the top of her head, rested his chin there, and ran his slick hands along her arms. He swept the lather in a sensual return and, excruciatingly slowly, repeated the process down her chest, around her breasts, and in between them. When each hand veered from the path and meandered to her nipples, pressing and circling, she squirmed with renewed longing. She tilted her head back and was rewarded with a lingering kiss.
When they finally pulled apart, her nipples and nether regions were aching with need. She spun around as gracefully as she could in the tub. Both breathing heavily, they stared at each other.
He shifted on the stool, and her eyes were drawn to the evidence of his desire. He needed her as much as she needed him.
She shifted in the tub so her back was against the other side, and she could fully watch him. “It is your turn,époux.”
Chapter Forty-Five
For nothing this wide universe I call,
Save thou, my rose; in it thou art my all.
—Shakespeare, “Sonnet 109”
Husband.Gaston wouldnot tire of hearing her call him that. Nor would he argue with Sophie’s invitation to disrobe. His body was on fire with unspent passion. Had been burning with it for sixteen years. He tugged at his cravat and slowly unwound it, tossing it onto Sophie’s clothing. He unbuttoned his waistcoat and discarded it too. He undid a couple of buttons, then was pulling his shirt over his head.
Sophie squirmed, and his body responded. He slipped out of his shoes and impatiently tugged at his stockings. He watched her from under his eyelashes as he undid the front fall of his trousers, letting it drop so she could see the growing evidence of his desire before he took them off. His drawers quickly followed. Sophie gasped.
Her eyes were drawn to his crotch, but it was clear by the look of horror on her face it was not his manhood she was staring at.
“It is nothing,” he said, tracing the welted scar running along the inside of his leg. He’d feared he’d been emasculated the night he’d been lanced by a sword. Sadly, the man had been an ally to the cause but had mistaken Gaston for the enemy. “A souvenir from a fellow Frenchman.”
The candles flickered, and her glazed eyes looked like glass. He walked to the side of the tub, fell to one knee, and cupped her cheek with his hand. “We both have our wounds. The visible ones are the easiest to manage.”
She rewarded him with a sad smile, but it was not enough. He did not want to make love in the shadow of the past. “Everything that has happened has brought us here. Let us honor all that has gone before but set it aside for tonight. Remain in the moment. Can you do that,mon amour?”
Sophie nodded, and he let his hand flow along her jaw before tracing her full lips. He leaned in and kissed her gently, cupping the back of her head and tugging her closer. Their kiss deepened as did his need. When she moaned, he could not stop a smile against her mouth. She pulled back.
“You are far too smug, no?”
