by Rose Gordon
“Would you like to wear your spectacles?”
She shook her head. “I’d prefer not to. They’re really heavy. Besides, won’t they be in the way?”
“A little, yes. But if you want them, I’ll get them for you.”
“There’s no need. Just as long as I can feel.” A crimson blush colored her cheeks.
He reached his hand forward and took one of her hands that was currently doing a terrible job of shielding her breasts from him and pulled it forward, pressing it to his chest. Her trembling fingers sank into his thick mat of chest hair. “Touch me,” he commanded gently. “Touch me anywhere you’d like.” She started to pull her hand away, but he wouldn’t let her. Holding her wrist, he moved her hand down from his muscled chest to his firm stomach then up to his shoulders.
Juliet’s other hand abandoned its post of partially covering her triangle of light brown, springy curls and came up to join its mate in the exploration of his chest. To gain better access, she rose up on her knees and moved closer to him, seeming to abandoning all of her inhibitions at the same time. He smiled. This was the bold woman he’d married, the one who knew no fear or restraint. Her fingers traced the grooves next to his clavicle, then fanned out and moved downward over the muscles in his chest. The touch of her fingers was like the points of ten branding sticks. He groaned. Her inquisitive fingers were driving him mad.
Her fingertips moved lower still, taking time to explore every dip and indention between his ribs and muscles. She reached his waistband, and a slight frown bent her lips before she removed her hands.
Wordlessly, Patrick removed his boots and trousers. “Here,” he said huskily, guiding her petite hands to his hips. Juliet sank to a sitting position on the edge of the bed and had only the slightest hesitation before letting her hands leave the ridge of his hips to knead the sinewy flesh of his thighs. Her roaming hands sent sparks of desire and excitement shooting through him each time they came close to his erection. Would she be bold enough to explore him there? He nearly cursed and groaned at the same time. Yes. He had no doubt his Juliet would certainly be bold enough to do just that. And when she did, the groan he’d been so diligently suppressing could be contained no longer.
“Did I hurt you?” The delicate hand she had wrapped around his shaft, loosening its grip.
“No,” he choked. “Don’t stop.”
Her grip tightened again, her fingers massaging him in the most erotic way imaginable. She slid her hand down his shaft then back up, squeezing a fraction tighter as she went. Her thumb traced a slow line around the edge of his tip. “It’s both hard and soft.”
“That’s exactly how you want it to be, trust me,” he said unevenly. He sucked in a harsh breath when her thumb brushed the sensitive skin of his tip. He glimpsed the satisfied smile on her lips, and smiled, too. She might not be able to see him smile at her, but it didn’t change the pride he felt on her behalf of being able to draw such a response from him.
Juliet licked her lips. “D-drake?”
“Hmm?”
“Do you―I mean, do gentlemen, like being touched this way?”
Patrick’s hand covered hers and tightened affectionately. “Yes, Juliet. I like it when you touch me this way.” He ran the pad of his thumb across her line of knuckles before letting go of her hand and letting her explore him further. When he could take her torturous ministrations no longer, he eased her hand from his shaft. His long, blunt-tipped fingers circled around her wrists, holding her arms out in a way that allowed him to view all of her bared flesh.
He released her wrists and stepped closer to her. She really was a beautiful woman. Why he hadn’t realized it until last night, he’d never understand. But he’d realized it then and he certainly realized it now. He sank to the floor in front of her, bringing his face within in an inch of hers, his hands tenderly massaging her thighs. He brushed his lips across hers. Then again.
Her lips parted, and his lips, so close to hers, could feel her uneven puffs of breath. Without warning, he closed the space between them, hungrily capturing her lips and refusing to let go. His fingers squeezed her thighs then parted them just enough for him to maneuver his body between them. Juliet’s arms wrapped around his neck, her fingers twining in the curly hair on the back of his head, holding him tightly.
Patrick’s hands closed around her waist, his thumbs and forefingers sinking into the softness of her luscious body. He pulled his mouth from hers. “Lie back,” he panted, rolling forward onto her as she followed his command. Patrick placed an arm on each side of Juliet’s face, his face hovering just above hers. He leaned forward and pressed a line of kisses across her forehead then down her nose and to her lips.
“Drake,” she sighed against his mouth, his tongue relentlessly seeking entrance. She opened to him, allowing him to once again taste her sweetness.
Shifting his weight to his left forearm, Patrick skimmed his palm up her ribs then to her breast, his fingers applying gentle pressure as they closed around it. Her nipple tightened instantly against his palm. He applied a hint more pressure in response to the sudden fullness he felt. His mouth left hers, his lips set on kissing a path to join his hand. His fingertips closed around the crest of her breast, gently squeezing and rolling the point. Her back arched and a sound he was sure was borne of pleasure broke the tensioned silence. He paused for a brief second, his body reeling with excitement at the way she was responding to his touches.
He parted his lips and dropped a line of partially open-mouthed kisses down her sternum then along the delicate bottom curve of her right breast. Even swollen as they were at the moment, her breasts weren’t what most would consider large, but to him, they were more than enough. Her left filled his hand to perfection and he was certain her right would fit flawlessly inside his mouth.
Her body trembled as his mouth covered her breast, taking in as much as he could hold. His tongue circled her nipple, his teeth gingerly scraped the sides then nipped the tip. Juliet’s fingers tightened painfully in his hair and her body tensed under his. He ran his tongue around her hardened peak once more, then pulled away to taste the other.
Juliet’s body quivered and tensed and bucked all over again as his mouth feasted on her other breast, his free hand caressing and shaping the damp globe his mouth had recently relinquished. Patrick spent his time on this breast, making sure to taste and lick every inch, to give her every second of enjoyment he could offer her. After this, she’d likely not find any more enjoyment in their lovemaking, so he had to make this part enjoyable for her. He owed her this much.
At long last, Patrick’s mouth released her swollen breast and blew a soft, warm puff of air across her dusky nipple. She quivered in response. He smiled faintly and lowered his head between her breasts, kissing a slow trail to the bottom of her stomach.
“Slide up,” he said gruffly, reaching down to grip her legs and help her move more squarely on the top of the bed.
She repositioned herself, the tension of her body sliding under his as she moved nearly pushing him over the edge. He tried his hardest to swallow his excitement as he joined her in her new position and reached behind her to get a pillow for her to rest her head on. This was where her enjoyment would end, but there was no reason she couldn’t be comfortable. If he were a real gentleman he’d offer her a blanket to cover herself with, but for now he’d just be a cad. Next time he’d let her cover up, this time he wanted to see her.
Patrick clenched his trembling hands into fists. Nervousness on his part would not do just now. He needed to be sure and concise so not to hurt her. He swallowed once again before skating his right hand down her abdomen and to her hip. “Just relax, Juliet,” he said thickly. Settling his face in the crook of her neck so not to see her flinch, Patrick carefully moved his fingers to the silky folds that hid the core of what made her a woman. Muttering a curse against the counterpane, Patrick took a deep breath and plunged one finger deep inside her. Then stilled and waited nervously for her response.
“What?” she choked out. “What stinging?”
He kissed her cheek again, hoping to wipe away her tears with his lips. He blinked. Her cheek hadn’t tasted of tears. He kissed her again. “Juliet?”
“Yes?”
“You don’t have to be brave, sweet,” he murmured in her ear. “I know you’re strong, but I won’t think anything less of you if you cry.”
“Cry?”
He nodded. “I know it hurts, you don’t have to pretend otherwise.”
“It doesn’t hurt,” she protested, turning to kiss his temple.
“No?” he queried, relief rapidly coursing through him. Her eyes met his, the truth gleaming in them for all the world to see. He truly hadn’t hurt her. “Good. This part won’t take long. I just want to make sure you’re ready...” He trailed off, his face burning. That wasn’t really something he wanted to explain, if she questioned him about it another time he’d show her the difference. But not this time. This time he’d make sure to do everything he knew to do so she’d experience the least amount of pain when it was time for him to enter her with his erection.
Gritting his teeth, Patrick eased his hand back then, just as carefully, pushed it forward, waiting in silence for her to cry out in discomfort. But she didn’t. She cried out, but it didn’t sound like discomfort to him. He lifted his head and stared unblinkingly at her.
“Did you say something?”
Her face flushed, and her eyes refused to meet his. “No,” she said, her hand coming up to push on his chest.
He remained in his place. What was she hiding? If she were in pain, she could tell him. He’d go more slowly. Or perhaps he should kiss her breasts again to take her mind off the discomfort. Yes, that’s what he’d do. He bent his head.
“Drake, please don’t.”
“Don’t?”
“Don’t kiss me there,” she said, pushing at his chest again.
He sighed. “I’m just trying to distract you.”
“That’s not the distraction I need,” she muttered before biting her lip.
Patrick’s eyes swept her face. She’d made some sort of noise, he was sure of it. If she wasn’t going to admit to it, he’d just have to make her repeat herself. With the same gentleness as before, he moved his hand again, going into her as deeply as he could before easing back out. Her teeth tightened their hold on her lip, but she didn’t make a sound. He moved again, then again and again, each time going knuckle-deep, each time tamping down another round of guilt at how he was knowingly hurting her. Unable to battle his guilt any longer, he moved to withdraw. Her legs clamped around his hand, shamelessly holding him there. “Don’t go.”
He stilled. His brain could barely make sense of what she was saying. “Do you mean...” He was too shocked to put it into words. Instead, he added a second finger and plunged in again, watching Juliet’s face intently as he buried himself inside her yet again.
She bit her lip again, her hips bucked and her hands grabbing for purchase on the counterpane. With his free hand, Patrick reached forward and freed her lip, praying she’d understand his intent. And she did. With his next thrust, she cried out his name, her hips bucking yet again. Heady excitement built inside him. He leaned his head down to capture her breast in his mouth, simultaneously increasing his pace.
Beneath him, she twisted and arched, her skin growing warmer, her sighs more frequent. Harder and faster he thrust, suckling with more deliberate attention. His lips released their claim on her breast and moved next to her ear. “Reach for it, Juliet. You’re almost there.” She sighed his name once more, the sound undoubtedly the most erotic thing he’d ever heard. Increasing his rhythm once more, he kissed her cheek. “Just let it take you.”
Suddenly, ten sharp fingernails bit into Patrick’s back and Juliet’s inner muscles convulsed around his fingers. Patrick slowed his pace but didn’t stop until her body relaxed.
A moment later, her eyes opened and blinked up at him. “You’re staring at me.”
He nodded. “Yes, I am. I’ve never seen a more beautiful sight in my life.” He meant those words, too. Every single one of them. He stared down at her for a moment more, capturing the picture of her sweet, contented face in his mind. “Just a minute,” he murmured. A moment later, he resettled in next to her. “Are you ready?”
“I believe so, yes.” She bit her lip. “Is there anything I should do?”
Her innocent, yet bold question was almost his undoing. “Nothing this time,” he choked, settling himself between her parted legs. He reached down between them and positioned the tip of his erection at her silken opening. Pressing a quick kiss to his wife’s cheek, Patrick pushed forward with one quick, smooth thrust. “Are you all right?”
The seconds before she answered stretched into what seemed like an eternity as he waited in silent agony. “Yes,” she whispered, her fingers reaching up to brush his jaw.
Patrick’s body hummed to life at her simple gesture. He placed a kiss just above her eyebrow then started to move. Slow and even at first, then picking up pace as need overtook him. A sigh from Juliet caught his attention. He glanced down at her, praying he wouldn’t find pain marring her precious features. He didn’t think he could bear to stop now, but he would if he was hurting her.
Mercifully, she didn’t look to be in pain. She actually looked to be content. Her big grey eyes looked up in the direction of his face, her pink mouth slightly open, revealing a perfect line of beautiful teeth. He groaned. He’d never truly know or understand how he’d gotten so lucky with Juliet, but he wasn’t going to question it.
Keeping pace, he supported himself with his forearms and locked eyes with Juliet. Something about looking into her eyes made this more about “them”, not just him, not just her―but them.
His muscles clenched, then again. The promise of an extraordinary climax building inside him with each movement. Juliet’s eyes widened briefly before shutting in ecstasy, her body writhed and her intimate muscles contracted around his erection, driving him to his own euphoric completion.
Patrick collapsed on top of her, whispering a promise that when he regained an ounce of strength he’d move.
“It’s all right,” Juliet whispered back, her fingers idly combing his black hair.
Mustering strength from who-knows-where, Patrick rolled off. Then stood and discarded his sheath. “Why don’t you move up here.” Patrick patted the head of the bed.
Juliet blushed then crawled up to lie on all the pillows. She looked so beautiful lying there. He let his eyes wander down her body. He thought she was attractive anyway, but now the way her skin glowed and her body lay there completely relaxed, a direct result of their lovemaking, he finally understood just what beauty really was.
Patrick padded over to his chest of drawers and found an older handkerchief from the top drawer and the small basin of water resting on top of the vanity. He walked back to the bed and set the bowl of water on the nightstand then dunked the cloth in the water and wrung it out.
“Where did you go?” Juliet asked, one eye open.
Patrick flashed her a nervous smile he knew she couldn’t actually see. “Just be still.”
She closed her eye for only a second before they both popped open. “Wh―what are you doing?”
Ignoring her question, Patrick lowered his lashes and ran the damp cloth up and down the inside of her leg, wiping away any trace of blood he could see before wetting it again and wiping between her legs. He dropped the linen into the pink-tinged water. “I’m sorry if I caused you any pain,” he said hoarsely, lying down next to her and gathering her in his arms.
Chapter 19
Patrick blinked his eyes open. The lighted street lamps of London shed a low light inside his carr
iage. In his arms, Juliet still slept. A smile tugged at Patrick’s lips. She was the soundest sleeper he’d ever met. And he should know. They’d been sharing a bed for more than a week now.
He swallowed. This past week had been one of the most emotionally trying weeks he’d ever endured. The more he was learning about his new wife, the clearer it became how opposite she was from his first wife.
Even an idiot knew it was terribly wrong to compare one woman with another, but he couldn’t make himself stop. He’d loved Abigail. Loved her from the moment he saw her picking flowers on the eastern boundary of Briar Creek. She’d worn a pink day dress that had white lace around the hem of the skirt and the cuffs of her sleeves. She’d nearly jumped from her skin when he’d walked up to her. The embarrassed flush that had covered her cheeks when she’d realized she’d been caught picking his flowers had flattered him. Everything she’d done had flattered him.
She had this tendency to look up to him as if he was her knight in shining armor, and though he was a viscount, he rather enjoyed playing the role of rescuing knight in her mind. It suited them both perfectly. She was the sort who always needed rescuing. Frail and petite, Abigail preferred to let others make her decisions. When faced with a problem, she’d come to Patrick for the solution. Whether a trivial concern about the housekeeper’s task or something she considered serious, such as squabbles within her family, she’d always sought his advice and he’d been more than willing to give it to her. More than just an advisor, he’d been her protector. Not physically, mind you. There was no need for that. Both emotionally and socially, he’d often find himself comforting and reassuring her. But he’d liked to do it, and had never complained.
Besides, that was his place, wasn’t it? If she felt out of sorts or uncomfortable, he was supposed to take up for her, and make her feel secure, wasn’t he?
He blinked and a picture of Juliet filed his mind.
His wives were so opposite it was astounding.