Page 44 of The Duke’s Untouched Bride (Regency Second Chances #3)
“ I ’ve been thinking about this moment since the first night you let me hold you.”
Owen’s voice was low and intimate in the lamplight of his chambers as he turned to face Iris. She stood just inside the door. Her hair was still mussed from the day’s trials and her eyes were dark with something that made his pulse quicken.
“Have you?” She moved toward him slowly. Her fingers were already reaching for the pins in her hair. “What exactly have you been thinking?”
“That I was a fool to waste so much time on fear when I could have been loving you instead.” He watched, mesmerized, as her caramel waves tumbled free. “That every night I spent alone in this bed was a night stolen from us.”
She stepped closer, close enough that he could smell the faint scent of honey that always clung to her skin. “Turn around,” she said softly.
Owen obeyed. Her fingers undid his cravat with deliberate care. Each gentle tug sent warmth spiraling through him. Desire mixed with the profound relief of finally being touched without reservation.
“This cravat,” she murmured against his neck, her breath warm against his skin. “I’ve watched you wear it dozens of times and wanted to see you without all these layers.”
“You did?” His voice came out rougher than he had intended as the silk slipped free.
“Dreamed. Fantasized. Tortured myself with possibilities.” The admission was soft, honest. “Every time you held Evie, every time you sang to her, I wanted to touch you like this.”
Her hands skimmed along his shoulders as she pushed his jacket down, reverent and sure. Owen turned in her embrace, finding the fastenings of her gown and working them loose with fingers that shook only slightly.
“Your turn,” he said, watching the fabric slip from her shoulders. “I’ve had my own dreams.”
“Tell me.” She stood perfectly still. “What did you dream about?”
“Your skin.” He pressed his lips to her bare shoulder, tasting salt and sweetness. “How it feels beneath my hands. Whether you would sigh like that when I touched you here.”
She did sigh, her head falling back as his mouth followed the curve of her collarbone.
“I used to listen for you,” she breathed, her fingers slipping into his hair. “Late at night, when you were in your study or coming in after everyone else was asleep. I’d lie there, wondering what it would feel like if you came to me instead.”
He paused, just long enough for her words to sink in. Then, as he shrugged out of his shirt, he murmured, “I did come. Just never through the door.” He met her eyes. “I stood outside it more nights than I can count. Wanting to knock. Wanting to be near you—even if it was foolish.”
“Why didn’t you?” she whispered.
His hands moved to the ties of her chemise, slow and sure. “Because one night would never have been enough. And I knew the moment I touched you that there’d be no going back.”
The chemise slipped from her shoulders and pooled at her feet, leaving her bare in the soft glow of lamplight.
Owen’s breath caught. He looked at her like a man who had been starving and just now realized what it meant to be full.
“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed. “More beautiful than any dream could capture.”
“So are you.” She reached for the buttons of his trousers. Her boldness surprised them both. “I want to see all of you. I want to know every inch of my husband.”
Owen groaned at her words, his control visibly fraying. “Iris…”
“What? Are you going to tell me we should wait? That this is too much, too fast?” She smiled, and he saw in her expression a confidence he’d never witnessed before. “Because I’m tired of waiting, Owen. Tired of wanting you from a distance.”
“No more distance,” he agreed, lifting her easily and carrying her to his bed. “No more walls. No more fear.”
He laid her down with exquisite care, his hands skimming over her skin before he shed the last of his clothes. When he joined her on the bed, she reached for him immediately, her touch sending fire through his veins.
“My wife,” he said quietly, as if testing out the words. “My love. Mine.”
“Yours,” she agreed, pulling him down to her. “Just as you’re mine.”
Owen kissed her slowly, deeply, letting the truth of it settle between them. No more hesitation, no more holding back.
His hands explored the familiar shape of her with reverence, as if rediscovering something sacred. He trailed kisses along her jaw, down the slender line of her neck, across the hollow at the base of her throat.
Her breath hitched as he moved lower, over the swell of her breasts, the dip of her waist. He paused at her belly before pressing his lips there with aching tenderness.
“Every part of you,” he murmured against her skin, “I will cherish.”
Iris arched against him, spreading her thighs to allow him entry, but Owen resisted. Instead, he kissed lower until his mouth found the center of her pleasure. His tongue flicked it, and she bit her lip. His fingers parted her velvety folds as he lapped at the tight bud.
“Please, Owen. I need you inside of me,” she panted.
She reached down, tangled her fingers in his hair, and tugged him up.
He slowly licked his way up to her navel before lifting his head. He gazed at her. “I want you, Iris. I want this, right here. Tell me you want this.”
Iris pulled him up and wrapped her legs around his waist, allowing him entry. “Yes,” she whispered. “I want this. I want you, Owen.”
He pushed into her without the gentleness of their previous coupling. His hunger was fierce and hard as he rocked into her.
Owen answered her call, and his thrusts grew more frenzied. Her head fell back, and her cry was wild as she came. Her hips kept bucking against him until his cries joined hers.
Afterward, Owen lay with her curled against his chest. Her hair spread across his shoulder like silk. The lamplight flickered softly, casting dancing shadows on the walls as their breathing gradually slowed.
“I love you,” he said into the quiet darkness. His voice was raw with emotion. “I should have said it months ago. Should have fought for this from the beginning.”
“You’re fighting for it now.” Iris pressed a kiss to his chest. Her lips felt warm against his skin. “That’s what matters.”
“Is it enough? Can you forgive me for nearly throwing away the best thing that has ever happened to me?”
She lifted her head to meet his eyes, and he saw in them a grace that humbled him completely. This woman, who had every right to hate him, was offering forgiveness with the generosity of someone who understood the depths of human frailty.
“I forgive you. I choose you. Every day, for the rest of our lives, I choose you.”
“And I choose you. Both of you.” His arms tightened around her. “Our family. Our future. Whatever comes, we’ll face it together.”
“Together,” she agreed, settling back into his warmth.
Owen closed his eyes and listened to the soft sounds of the house settling around them. From the nursery came the faint rustle of Evie stirring in her sleep, and he felt his heart swell with a protectiveness so fierce that it took his breath away.
This was what his grandfather had wanted for him. Not just a wife and an heir, but a family built on love rather than duty. People who mattered more than titles or fortunes or the careful preservation of reputation.
It had taken him longer than most to understand the difference. But perhaps that made it sweeter, this love that had survived abandonment and fear and the very real threat of loss.
How wrong he’d been. True safety lay in the woman beside him, the child sleeping peacefully down the hall, and in the family they’d chosen to build together despite every obstacle.
Tomorrow would bring new challenges and new opportunities to prove himself worthy of the trust they’d placed in him. But tonight, he was simply a man holding his wife, listening to her breathe, and feeling grateful beyond measure for the grace that had brought them home to each other.
Finally, completely, irrevocably home.