Page 46 of Miss Hawthorne’s Unlikely Husband (The Troublemakers Trilogy #3)

H e didn’t know who had made her so self-conscious about her body but if he found them, he would make them regret it.

Nothing could have prepared him for the disconsolate anxiety in her eyes.

It was more than maidenly modesty. He’d almost made the decision for them both to wait, but the tears in her eyes had stopped him.

It was the moment he realized it wasn’t fear of sex that had her anxious, it was the idea of being naked.

As it was, he wasn’t going to push the issue, or complain.

The sight of her in that flimsy, crimson night shift with her dark curls set loose was the stuff of dreams, even if he would have preferred to feel her bare skin against his the first time they made love.

His focus now had to be on pulling her out of her thoughts and fears.

If she needed a layer of silk between them to be comfortable then it would stay there until she didn’t need it anymore.

He wanted her attention on what they were about to do, not whatever jackass had hurt her with cruel, thoughtless words.

He would go slowly and show her exactly how sacred, how exquisite she was to him.

He touched her shoulder and pressed her backwards until she was laying on her back beside him, her wide brown eyes finally fixed on his.

He took the elegant hand wearing her wedding ring in his and brought it to his lips, watching her eyelids flutter in response.

Interesting. He turned her hand over and pressed a kiss to her palm, dragging his lips down to the sensitive skin of her inner wrist. She gasped audibly, her eyes now focused on his mouth and the path it was tracing down the inside of her arm.

He kissed along her shoulder and up the graceful column of her neck, as he lowered himself next to her, listening to the soft, almost bashful moans she uttered as she squirmed against him.

Her hands rested lightly on his chest, eager to touch but still unsure.

He’d fix that soon enough. He wanted her hands on him, everywhere.

He took her mouth again, his hand curling under her neck to hold her in place, tasting their wedding wine.

She whimpered and broke away, panting hard. Her fingers curled over his bare shoulders and he nuzzled her soft cheek, breathing her in.

“Richard,” she murmured, gasping when his hand closed over her silk-covered breast, her nipple hard against his palm.

She tensed for a moment then her hand covered his lightly.

He paused, waiting to see if she wanted to move it.

Her eyes fluttered open to look at him then her grip tightened, pressing his palm against her. “Don’t stop.”

“àirén,” He moved back down her neck and she arched back into the pillow under her head.

He continued down, sucking on her skin, nibbling on her collarbones, dragging his mouth over her other breast. He exhaled, allowing his warm breath to waft over her flesh and she gasped until his mouth closed over her nipple through the thin silk.

Her moan echoed throughout the room, her fingers tightening on his shoulder and his hand.

He moved further down, mouthing her stomach over her nightgown as his hands moved down her body, to pull the fabric up her legs.

She writhed, her stomach tensing and flexing under his lips and breath.

Once it was high enough, he parted her legs with one hand on her thigh and settled between them.

She breathed in sharply, her eyes fixed on him, and he wondered if she had the same reservations about him seeing her legs.

“Is this alright?” he asked, and she swallowed nervously and nodded.

He ran his hands down her outer thighs, feeling the muscles in them flex at his touch.

They were thick and just firm enough. Powerful.

Her equestrian skill seemed more inevitable now.

One day, he promised himself, she would ride him with those gorgeous legs.

He kissed the inside of her knee, moving further down her firm, smooth thigh.

She cried out when he nipped at her skin, arching up closer, her eyes fixed on him in the near darkness.

He slid his hand up her leg, watching her eyes widen as he drew closer to her sex.

At the first touch of his mouth against her, she gasped, her legs tensing under his hand.

He parted her folds and licked deeply, tasting salt and musk, smelling her perfume and the sweetness she leaked out with every brush of his tongue against her clit.

Her hands tangled in his hair and he pulled her closer, sucking her into his mouth with voracious delight as her thighs trembled around him.

Yes. She called out, her body squirming, her skin growing hotter as she clenched down around his tongue.

Soon, she’d be there soon. He slid a finger inside her pulsating depths, brushed against her slick walls and she shattered with a scream, undulating against his tongue.

She wasn’t thinking about her fears now.

He wanted to keep tasting her, to make her fall apart again.

He could spend hours there until she was weak, until she was begging for mercy.

Her fingertips brushed his jaw, her hands straining desperately for contact.

Later, he promised himself. He’d slake his thirst later.

He moved up her body, bracing himself over her, with his elbow on the bed beside her as his hand played with the curls covering her vagina.

She lifted her head to kiss him, pulling him close as his fingers explored her hot wet center.

He kissed her back hard, pressing her head backwards, swallowing her moans.

Her hips bucked against his hand when he brushed her clit, her fingers tightening in his hair.

He stroked against it in a steady circular rhythm and she cried out against his mouth, her legs twitching against his hips.

When he felt her grow wetter, he sank a finger inside her, maintaining the pressure against her clit with his thumb.

Her hips arched into him and her head fell back, her eyes squeezing shut as tightly as her depths around his thrusting finger.

She was stunning, giving herself over to her pleasure.

He pressed his lips under her jaw, feeling her pulse beating through her skin until her scent and her heat drove him to taste more of her skin, sending him back to those small dark breasts he was still dying to taste.

He sucked her nipple into his mouth and she jerked against him again with a desperate cry before she shuddered against him, her depths clenching down hard as more moisture flooded his palm. A thrill flowed through him. She’d come for him so easily and openly. Perfect. She was perfect.

All he wanted now was to see it again, as many times as possible before the night was over.

He slipped in a second finger beside the first, curling them up towards his palm to drag inside her.

She bucked against him, her hands clutching at his shoulders.

She pressed her forehead against his, her hips churning against his palm as she chased a second peak.

“Richard,” she gasped.

“Come for me again, àirén,” he whispered, pressing a fraction harder on her clit. She whimpered, her mouth falling open.

“Please,” she gasped, pulling him closer, her thighs pressing hard against his hips.

He felt her ripple around his fingers before she cried out again, trembling and curling up against him.

He kept moving his hand, encouraging her to keep going until her hand curled weakly around his wrist. He slid his hand free, his heart pounding in his chest as she went still.

Now. He had to be inside her right now. He lifted her legs over his, spreading them wider and took his cock in hand, stroking the swollen length with his slick hand.

Carefully, he positioned himself at Elodia’s opening before leaning over her once again.

Her hand brushed his cheek and he looked up to see her watching him with those beautiful dark eyes.

He drove himself in until the resistance from her muscles was too great.

She winced slightly, and he brushed his hand over her head, stroking her hair.

“Are you well?” he asked. She nodded and pressed her lips together, wrapping her hand around his arm to brace herself. He withdrew then reinserted himself, deeper this time, almost halfway in. She closed her eyes and inhaled sharply. “Ellie, can you take more?”

“I don’t know,”

He lowered her hips to the bed and withdrew partially. Then, he pushed deep until most of him was buried within her. She arched back with a groan, her grip on his arms tightening. His hand fisted in the sheets, as she flexed and clenched around him.

He lowered himself over her, bracing himself on his elbows, pushing her hair back from her forehead.

Clenching his jaw, he pulled out and thrust again, feeling her body give way to him further with each drive even as it held him in a vice-like grip.

She opened her eyes, panting as her hands clutched at the pillow.

She lifted her head, her eyes fixed on his mouth, her intention clear.

He kissed her hungrily, following her down.

He’d waited so long to have this, to be with someone who cared for him. All he wanted was to feel her hands on him. She’d touched him a little, a graze of his cheek, a grip on his bare arm, but he was desperate for more. He wanted to feel her everywhere, be claimed with all her love and passion.

“Ellie,” he pulled back a fraction and her eyes opened. “Put your hands on me.”

One of her hands lifted from the pillow to tangle in his hair, her fingertips trailing along his scalp. “Like this?” she asked.

He shivered and pressed his brow to hers. “More,” he groaned, “please, more.”