Just One Touch

by Debra Mullins

  The sexy lilt in her voice and that slow, warm glance set his blood humming. That peach silk evening dress looked about as substantial as tissue paper, and he struggled with the urge to peel it from her body. “Are you asking me to bed you, wife?”

  “Maybe you should.” She lifted her chin, though her fingers twisted amid her skirts. “At least then I would feel as if I were a proper wife.”

  “I would be more than happy to accommodate you,” Rogan said, trailing a finger along her bared shoulder. “But you know there are reasons why we have not yet consummated this marriage.”

  “I know.” She took in a shaky breath and glanced down at his finger where it traced patterns on her skin. “Your patience is truly magnificent.”

  “I’m not nearly as patient as you think I am.” He crowded her back against the table, then nipped at her neck. “I want you more than I want to breathe,” he rasped, lost in the taste of her.

  “Don’t squash me against the table,” she gasped, pushing at his hips even as she leaned her head to the side so he could continue to nuzzle her neck.

  “I won’t.” Before she could blink, he lifted her and seated her on top of the table, putting them practically nose-to-nose. He grinned at her. “Better?”

  “Interesting.”

  He chuckled. “It’s about to become even more so.” Dipping his head, he placed a kiss between her breasts bared by the low neckline of the gown.

  She made a squeak of surprise and gripped his arms. “Rogan!”

  “Patience, love.” He laughed again and nuzzled his nose against her breast. She jerked backward with surprise, jostling his head, but he knew he had affected her, had felt the hard little nipple poking his cheek.

  “What are you doing?” she panted. “We’re supposed to be having a quarrel.”

  “We’re done quarreling.” He cupped her breast through the dress and regarded her with searching eyes.

  “Good heavens, what are you doing?”

  “Making love to my wife.” He tugged on the neckline of the dress until one small, creamy breast popped out. She went to cover herself, but he grasped both her hands in his and held them fast to the table. Then he ducked down and teased her hard little nipple with just his lips.

  “Dear Lord.” Her head fell back, and she unintentionally arched into his mouth. He licked the pink, pebble-hard nub, then began to suckle.

  “Rogan!” Breathing hard now, she halfheartedly tried to pull her hands from his. “We must stop. What if someone comes?”

  “Who? Grafton and Tallow are abed, and your maid awaits upstairs.” He grinned up at her like a pirate, and she could feel her resolve melting. “You wanted to be treated like a woman, didn’t you?”

  “You’re a devil,” she muttered. “A wicked, wicked devil.”

  “Just a man.” He traced a string of kisses up to her throat. “A man who very much wants to take his wife to bed.”

  “I don’t know—”

  “Let’s find out,” he interrupted, desire roughening his voice. “What say you, Caroline? Are you ready to be a wife?”

  “Are you going to lie to me anymore?”

  He chuckled against her skin. “You are a very single-minded woman. No, I won’t hide things from you anymore.”

  “Then I’d like to try.” She pulled her hands free and cupped his face, looking into his eyes. “I want this, Rogan. I just don’t know if I can—”

  “Shhh. Don’t fret about it. We’ll do what we can and work with the rest.”

  “But I don’t think I can—”

  He placed a finger over her lips to silence her. “Hush, love. Relax and let me teach you. I promise we’ll stop whenever you say.”

  She hesitated only for a moment, then nodded.

  With a low growl of triumph, Rogan scooped her into his arms and mounted the staircase.

  Caroline clung to him, misgivings fluttering like butterflies in her stomach. What if she wasn’t ready? What if she grew distraught? Perhaps teasing Rogan into bedding her had not been the wisest course of action. She wasn’t even sure why she’d done it. The words had just spilled from her mouth.

  He carried her up the stairs as if she weighed nothing, kissing and caressing her all the way. She clung to his neck, her fingers twisting tightly together. She was both nervous and hungry for him, excited to be treated as a proper wife rather than an invalid. She wanted to be able to give something to Rogan, something only she could give.

  He stopped outside his bedroom door, then bent and kissed her until her head spun. By the time he managed to push open the door, desire had flushed most of her doubts from her mind.

  He laid her on the bed, stroking his hand down her throat and chest, coming to rest on her belly. She could only watch him and try to remember to breathe, while delicious feelings swamped all thoughts and reason from her mind.

  “I want to undress you, love,” he murmured. “I want to see all that lovely fair skin of yours.”

  Heat flooded her cheeks. The look in his eyes, the tone of his voice. He wanted her, and the knowledge sent a thrill shooting between her legs. Her body erupted to life, and she reached up her arms to him.

  He knelt one knee on the bed, his gray eyes so dark with need that they looked black. He coaxed her to sit up, bringing her closer for his kisses as he worked the fastenings of her dress. The peach silk gaped away, and he tugged at the low neckline until both her breasts and her shoulders were bared to his gaze. He stroked one soft mound and then the other, kneading gently with his fingers while he made her dizzy with kisses.

  By the time he peeled the gown off her arms, she was too hot and hungry to protest. All she wanted was for him to touch her—anywhere, everywhere. His slow, tender caresses didn’t trigger any of her horrible memories and instead eased her into the strange new world of desire with barely a murmur of protest.

  “Beautiful,” he whispered.

  She felt beautiful. He tugged the dress down and off, leaving her clad in just her thin shift. The straps of the nearly transparent garment dangled down her arms, and her breasts lifted softly above the rest of it where it bunched around her middle. He stroked his fingers down the slope of one pale mound, the brush of his fingers against her bare skin making her more and more aware of her body. Her limbs felt strangely heavy, and time seemed to slow. Her blood ran like fire through her veins, despite the steady, almost leisurely beat of her heart.

  He took one of the pins from her hair. She helped him, pulling free the pins and ribbons until her hair fell in tangled curls around her shoulders. He made a low sound of approval and buried his face in the dark mass.

  She stretched her arms up, feeling alive and female and gloriously powerful, then lay back on the bed. Her lips curved in a feline smile as he stood there looking at her, desire plain on his face. “Do you intend to undress, husband?”

  His eyes narrowed at her seductive purr, and he began to strip off his coat. “Absolutely.”

  The power of Woman rushed through her as she noticed his hands were shaking. How odd that such a small female could shake the control of such a strong man. But she could see it in his trembling fingers and fierce expression, hear it in his harsh breathing.

  Testing her wiles, she shook out her hair and leaned up on her elbows. His eyes immediately drifted to her naked breasts, and he fumbled with the buttons of his waistcoat. Thrilled with the results of her little experiment, she caught his eye and slowly licked her lips.

  He stopped undressing, arrested by the movement. “Caroline, what are you doing?” he asked hoarsely.

  “Waiting.” She let her head fall back, her hair brushing her shoulders. Then she settled back into her former position and gave him the tiniest smile. “I’ve been waiting for you for a long time.”

  He yanked at the waistcoat, buttons flying everywhere. She laughed, a throaty, seductive sound even she didn’t recognize. He tossed what was left of the garment to the floor and jerked at the knot of his neck cloth.

  “Shall I help y
ou?” She climbed to her knees on the bed and reached for the cravat. Her shift slipped down a little more and caught at the curve of her hips.

  He placed his hands on her waist, bare flesh to bare flesh, and tilted his head back a little. “Be my guest.”

  The unfamiliar feeling of strong hands around her middle sent another jolt of excitement shuddering through her. Biting her lower lip, she struggled with the knot of his neck cloth. His fingers flexed around her waist—once, twice. She finally jerked the cloth free and dropped it to the floor.

  “Caroline.” He swooped down and claimed her mouth in a hot kiss that made her brain shut down completely. All she could do was cling to his shirt and fly with him.

  As if she had turned a key, his passion erupted. His hands swept over her body as his mouth engaged hers in a lusty tangle of lips and tongues. He tugged at the shift, shoving it up around her hips and leaving her lower body exposed.

  “Rogan—” His kiss stopped her words, and her thoughts spun away. He eased her down onto her back, still kissing her, one hand stroking over her from neck to knees. He lingered at her belly, leaving his large, warm hand there for long moments.

  She arched her hips, following her instincts, her eager moans captured by his mouth. His hand coaxed her thighs apart, slipped between them.

  The first inkling of alarm cut through her passion-clouded mind. She grabbed his wrist and pulled, tearing her mouth from his. “Rogan, stop.”

  He froze, meeting her gaze. “Are you all right?”

  “It was starting.”

  “Why?”

  “Where your hand was.” She knew she was blushing but didn’t care. “It makes me nervous.”

  “All right.” He moved his hand to her thigh. “Is this better?”

  “I think so.” She reached up and curled her hand around his neck. “Kiss me again. Chase away the ghosts.”

  He bent down and kissed her tenderly, their lips clinging as he pulled back. “Better?”

  “Yes.” She took a deep breath, shocked to discover the fear had faded.

  “I want to show you what loving can be like,” he said. “But I can’t do that if I can’t touch you.”

  “You are touching me.”

  He gave her a very adult smile. “Not the way I want to.”

  Heat flooded her face. “But if you do that, and you’re on top of me…it won’t work, Rogan.”

  “Then let’s try something else.” He got off the bed and considered her for a long moment. “Do you trust me not to hurt you?”

  “I know you don’t intend to hurt me.” She shrugged, uncomfortable. “But part of me doesn’t believe that about any man.”

  “I need you to trust me. I promise to stop if you want me to.” He grasped her by the hips and slid her until her legs dangled off the bed.

  “What are you going to do?” Trying to ignore the twinge of panic, she propped herself on her elbows again and frowned as he knelt down beside the bed. “What—”

  He parted her knees, lightly stroked the insides of her thighs.

  “Rogan…” Her muscles tightened.

  “Hush. It’s all right.” He placed a butterfly kiss on her knee, on her inner thigh.

  “You’re not going to…dear Lord, I can’t even say it.” She crossed an arm over her eyes as he slowly kissed his way along her leg. Her heartbeat sped up, but she kept reminding herself that this was Rogan, that he wouldn’t do anything she didn’t want him to do.

  Then she felt the questing touch between her legs, and she gasped at the fleeting sensation. He came back again, another tentative caress. A keening sound escaped her throat, and she straightened her arms at her sides, fingers digging in and gripping the coverlet.

  “Let me show you,” he murmured. “This is what it should be like.”

  She wanted to know the truth so badly. She relaxed her thigh muscles, but her fingers gripped the blankets even more tightly. This was nothing like she’d experienced before, at the hands of the kidnappers. That had been rough and humiliating and disgusting. But this—the feather-light brush of his lips, the tender tracing of his fingers along her inner thigh—this didn’t make her cry or sick to her stomach. Once more he touched between her legs, and this time she didn’t panic.

  She wanted to know.

  Drawing a deep breath, she relaxed, her knees parting a bit more. Rogan smiled down at her, his hand still teasing between her legs, inspiring all kinds of unfamiliar hungers. Then he touched one specific place, a place where all the blood seemed to center, and she moaned aloud at the jolt of desire that rippled through her. One jolt fed another jolt, and her mind soon grew foggy with increasing sensation.

  “That’s it, love.” He leaned closer, a satisfied smile on his face as he watched her expression. “Hold fast now.” Bending down, he pressed a kiss right between her legs.

  She gave a squeal of surprise and tried to sit up. He gently urged her back again with a hand on her chest, then began to lick the most sensitive part of her body.

  “Dear sweet Lord.” Caroline closed her eyes as wild sensation rolled through her in waves. His soft hair brushed the insides of her thighs as he skillfully teased her with his mouth. She had never in her life imagined that people did such things to each other. It was so wicked. So indecent.

  So incredibly delicious.

  He hooked her knees over his shoulders and continued to pleasure her with tongue, lips, teeth. All the while his hands roved her body, stroking her legs, holding her hips still for his ministrations.

  Pressure built. She found herself arching her hips, trying to get closer. He scooped his hands beneath her bottom and lifted her to his mouth, finding the hard little bud hidden in her female folds and rubbing his tongue against it. The wonderful friction nearly pulled her out of herself, jerking her from growing pleasure to pure, demanding lust in seconds. She gave a startled cry, lost in the delightful torment, dying to reach a place she couldn’t describe. She needed something…something…

  The pressure changed, his tongue curled, and her body exploded, sending her hurtling into sweet oblivion with his name on her lips.

  Caroline returned to herself slowly.

  Rogan lay beside her on the bed, head propped on one hand while the other hand rested on her thigh. He was smiling. “Are you back, love?”

  “Good heavens.” She blinked at him, trying to bring him into focus. “Is that what all the fuss is about?”

  He chuckled. “Quite.”

  “Oh.” She frowned at him. “You’re still dressed.”

  “I know.” His mouth curved in a lopsided grin. “I thought it was safer, so I wouldn’t get carried away.”

  “Carried…? Oh.” She flicked a glance toward his lower body. “Are you…well, all right?”

  “Are you?”

  “I am…I don’t know what I am. Barely coherent, that’s for certain.” She rolled onto her side to face him, casting him a speculative look. “I meant, did you—” She made a sound of exasperation. “I don’t think you felt what I did.”

  “Not quite.” He traced a finger along her nose. “I very much enjoyed watching you, though.”

  “That doesn’t seem fair. Don’t you want to…um…finish things?”

  He stilled. “Do you?”

  She opened her mouth to say yes, then hesitated. “I don’t know. I thought I was ready.”

  “We can try.” He reached for the fastening of his pants.

  Caroline grabbed his hand. “No. No, I don’t think it would work.” She blew out a long, shuddering breath. “Panic again. Apparently I’m all right as long as you remain properly dressed.”

  “Well that certainly throws my plans out of kilter.” He smiled as he said it, but Caroline didn’t smile back.

  “I want to share your bed, Rogan. I truly do. But this reaction of mine—I’m afraid I may never get past it.”

  “You will.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Don’t worry about me, love. This isn’t the first time I’ve been frustrated, and
I doubt it will be the last.”

  “But I don’t want you to be frustrated.” Gathering her courage, she stroked her palm down his chest. “I want you to feel the way I did. Men do feel that way, don’t they?”

  “They do.” He put his hand over hers, held it fast over his heart. “One step at a time, love. Perhaps you should think about going to bed.”

  “I should, but I don’t want to.” She curled her fingers against his chest. “I want to sleep in your arms again.”

  He gave a rough laugh and sat up on the bed. “That would be dangerous, sweet wife. Best you retire to your own bed, before I forget my good intentions and ravish you now.”

  She started to laugh, then saw the gleam in his eye and realized he was only half jesting. She jerked into a sitting position, then flushed as her shift sagged around her waist. She tugged at it, trying to cover her breasts.

  “Let me help.” He assisted her with turning the garment around—it was on backward, having shifted from rigors of their embrace—and she managed to get a strap pulled up over one arm. Before Rogan tugged the other into place, he leaned forward and took her exposed nipple in his mouth, suckling just long enough to make her insides melt again, before releasing her and slipping the strap up her arm.

  “Rogan.” Her body hummed, and she gave him a look that begged for more and promised retribution all at once.

  He just grinned at her, the rogue, and helped her get her dress back on. Once she was fully buttoned and hooked, he handed the hairpins to her. “I’m not much of a lady’s maid,” he said with a grin.

  She closed her fingers around the pins, studying his face for some sign of torment or frustration. “Are you certain you don’t want me to stay tonight? I enjoy sleeping in your arms.”

  “Caroline.” He stroked his fingers along her arm. “If you stay I will have you naked and under me before you can say no.” He looked directly into her eyes, letting her see the hot lust that simmered in his. “I want nothing more than to be inside you, love. And until you want that as much as I do, until you crave it more than food, more than air—until you want it so much that none of your fears can possibly stop the inevitable—that’s when it will happen. I don’t want you frightened of me.”