Page 37

R obert stood with his hand on the door to his wife’s bedchamber and took a steadying breath.

The other night had gone so much better than he had expected that anticipation had his body taut with need and wanting.

He had relieved himself this morning, but it didn’t seem to have made any difference.

He had been carrying around a low buzz of desire since the kisses they exchanged at Ava’s ball, and every encounter since had just fed that desire.

Bringing her to climax had set the seal on his unslaked lust. Nothing was going to assuage it but having more.

He was shocked by his own need, he’d never felt such a strong desire for a woman before, and he was worried about his ability to control himself.

It had taken every bit of his self-control the other night to focus on her and not his own lust. But it had been worth it, and it would be worth it again.

He pushed the door open and entered the room.

It was done out in sky blue and white, a brighter version of his own that sported navy and white.

The colors were currently muted by the glow of the fire and candlelight that cast the bulk of the room in shadow.

He looked toward the big four-poster bed, but she wasn’t there.

Then he found her, curled up in a deep armchair by the fire, dressed in a blue silk robe over something white and filmy, her hair loose about her shoulders.

It made her look more vulnerable somehow.

His heart squeezed. His wife . His to protect and care for as he had vowed earlier today.

He swallowed the unexpected surge of emotion.

Vows did make a difference. He hadn’t expected them to—they were just words after all.

But they were words he had sworn he would only utter to the woman who held his heart.

Can Sarah be that woman? He wanted her to be.

Predictably, she had a book in her lap, although he fancied she wasn’t actually reading, as her head was turned to the fireplace as if seeking something from the flames. Insight, courage?

She turned her head at his entrance. The fire cast her in a rosy glow.

He moved toward her as she rose, the book and her spectacles slipping from her lap to the floor unheeded.

He almost smiled. She made a habit of dropping books around him.

He reached her and took her hands. “Alone at last,” he quipped in an attempt at humor.

She looked up at him and tried to smile, but he couldn’t help but read her hesitancy as anxiety—still?

He slipped his arms round her and brought her against his chest gently, “What’s wrong? Are you afraid?”

“No. I just—” She paused as if trying to find the right words, and he waited patiently. This was important. “Nothing will be the same again after this.”

“True, but it’s a natural progression. Would you agree?”

“Yes.” She took a breath and let it out slowly. “I don’t really know why I’m nervous. You showed me the other night how pleasurable things can be. I suppose I’m worried I won’t meet your expectations,” she admitted with a wry smile.

“Oh, Sarah!” He tightened his arms round her, touched. “Haven’t I demonstrated that you have exceeded them already? That is the last thing you should be concerned about.”

She laid her cheek against his chest. “Thank you.” Should he admit he was worried he wouldn’t meet her expectations?

A lifelong habit of hiding his vulnerabilities from others made him hesitant to confess this one.

When you were the one everyone else looked to for leadership and to take charge, it didn’t do to admit to anything that might be considered a weakness.

He had never been able to afford the luxury of vulnerability, even when he was young.

But she tempted him sorely to let his guard down.

Perhaps when they knew each other better.

When he felt more secure in the relationship.

Marriages weren’t built on vows alone. Ashford had made it clear that actions spoke louder than words.

“May I kiss you, Sarah?”

She nodded and bit her lower lip in such an unconsciously seductive gesture. It forced him to swallow a sudden groan.

That fierce wanting was back again with a vengeance.

His hands splayed across her back, and he felt the warmth of her body through the slippery fabric.

He wanted to run them all over her luscious shape, feel and touch and kiss and lick.

.. He took a breath to steady himself and got a nose full of her scent, roses and something that was uniquely her.

“Sarah,” he breathed, drawing her closer and lowering his head to kiss her.

He intended the kiss to be slow and gentle, tender even.

Intentions and reality rapidly diverged when she responded with unexpected ardor to the touch of his lips to hers.

Her quick, fervent kisses pressed to his mouth.

The parting of her lips and flick of her tongue undid all his good intentions and the kiss became devouring, hot, wet, and wild.

He crushed her to him, his hands sliding over her body through the fabric of her night attire, as the pent-up flames from weeks of tamped down desire took flight and threatened to consume him. She clung to him, pressing close and her mouth gave him back kiss for kiss.

She felt, smelled, and tasted delicious. She was all his, and he wanted her desperately. He was so hard it hurt. The throbbing ache in his groin urged him to get to the point swiftly.

He broke the kiss, panting, seeking to rein back to some semblance of control.

Her face was flushed, her lips swollen, her eyes dark pools.

Her breathing was as rapid as his. At least their desire for each other appeared to be mutual.

Even so, he needed to find some restraint so that he didn’t frighten her.

In spite of what they had done the other night, she was still an innocent, her body still virginal.

He would hurt her if he gave into the wild desire in his blood.

He eased the robe from her shoulders, and it fell in a puddle at her feet, leaving her arrayed only in the diaphanous folds of her filmy white nightgown.

The rosy light of the fire turned it pink and limned her shape in shadow through the light fabric.

He set his hands on her slender waist, and squeezing her warm flesh, he kissed her again, more gently this time.

Drawing her closer, one hand slid lower to squeeze her buttock.

God yes, a plump handful! Pressing her closer still, she must be able to feel his cock, hard as a steel bar and twice as hot, pressing into her belly.

She did not recoil from him. Instead, she molded her body to his with a little whimper in her throat that pushed his control to snapping point.

With nothing but his robe and her gown between them and his balls aching and hot, he bent and swung her up into his arms and strode quickly to the bed and laid her gently down upon the turned-back sheets.

She lay with her hair splayed round her head like burnished mahogany on the pillows.

Her breasts were rising and falling rapidly, the outline of pert nipples poking against the almost translucent fabric of her gown.

Her eyes were fixed on his, questioning but not frightened.

He smiled reassuringly and shed his robe, letting her look her fill at his body.

It was likely the first time she had ever seen a fully naked man, and conceit aside, he knew his figure to be trim and nothing to be ashamed of.

It was primarily the state of his cock he was concerned about. Will it alarm her?

He doubted he was the biggest of men, but he also knew he was of a respectable size, and frankly he felt enormous just now with pent-up desire. What he wanted to do—ravish her, take her hard—he could not do.

He cleared his clogged throat, “You know what to expect?”

“Yes.” She did that thing with her lower lip again and he swallowed another groan.

He stroked his cock with a distracted hand, trying to soothe the raging need that was making him tremble.

Perhaps I should relieve myself first before we commence?

He had no doubt he could be ready again once he had made her ready to receive him, but he was unsure if he could restrain himself to make her so in his current condition.

God, I am reduced to the state of an adolescent boy by this overwhelming need for her.

As if sensing his hesitancy, she held out her arms to him, and that did make him groan aloud.

“Sarah!” He climbed onto the bed and pulled her close, finding her mouth in a kiss that was both hot and tender.

A hand sought one breast and he squeezed, finding and fingering the pert nipple.

She arched under him at this treatment, giving another one of those irresistible whimpers.

His lips traced kisses down her neck to the collar of her nightgown.

“May I remove your gown?” he asked, panting now. God, I am a mess. His cock was leaking fluid and twitching with desire.

She nodded again. He wished she would say something more.

He reached lower and pulled the hem of her gown up, slowly uncovering her shapely legs, until the curly thatch of deep, reddish-brown hair at the apex of her thighs was revealed.

He had felt the crinkly curls the other night with his fingertips but hadn’t seen them.

He couldn’t resist running a hand up one thigh, squeezing the flesh and coming to rest on her hip.

His thumb traced circles in the hollow of her hipbone and her stomach muscles visibly tightened, her hips undulating, a slight gasp escaping her.