Wendy Lindstrom

by Kissing in the Dark

  “Sit,” he said, taking the brush from her. “I’d like to do this.”

  She sat with her back to him, watching his reflection in the mirror. He pulled the brush through her curls, over and again, placing the bristles at the peak of her forehead and lightly dragging them back across her skull and down the length of her hair, which ended above her waist.

  A sigh of pleasure slipped from her mouth and she closed her eyes.

  “You like this?”

  “Mmm . . . yes. My mother used to brush my hair for me.” And she’d craved those precious minutes of affection. “Mama owned a beautiful brush with stiff bristles and a porcelain back painted with roses. It was a gift to her, and my mother treasured it.” A sharp sense of loss filled Faith. She opened her eyes, needing to see Duke, needing to know she wasn’t alone anymore. “I wanted to keep the brush forever, but I left it behind when we moved.”

  “Have you sent a letter to your old address?” he asked, drawing the bristles across her scalp in a soothing motion. “You could ask the new residents to look for the brush and forward it to you.”

  She shook her head, disrupting his brush stroke. “No . . . I . . . the landlord probably tossed it out or gave it away.” She lowered her lashes, realizing she’d been foolish to mention her mother and open a conversation about her past, especially on her wedding night.

  “I’m sorry you lost something so treasured. Now I understand why Adam wanted to give you a brush.”

  She nodded, but dared not say another word about the brush or her mother lest she slip and mention the brothel she still owned. “Would you unlace my corset?”

  He laid the brush on the dressing table, then untied the drawing ribbon on her corset and unlaced it for her.

  As she pulled the stifling garment off her body and laid it on the bench beside her, Duke’s strong, warm hands slipped over her shoulders. Their eyes met in the mirror, but he gently tilted her head back until she was looking up at him.

  He leaned down to kiss her.

  Their mouths met upside down in an awkward but sensual kiss. He slowly moved his hands down over her collar bone, and slipped them beneath her chemise, easing his fingers over her breasts. She gasped against his mouth.

  His tongue and teeth made small swipes and nibbles across her lips, making her crave a deeper kiss. She arched her back to lift her aching breasts into his warm palms. He captured her hard nipples between his thumb and finger, shaping and tugging them to aching peaks.

  “I’ve wanted to do this from the minute I first saw you.”

  But he hadn’t done it. He’d been a gentleman, even during their most passionate kisses.

  His warm lips caressed her neck, her shoulder, and then he was kneeling on the floor behind her, turning her to face him. Her nose brushed his thick, shiny hair as he freed the buttons at the waist of her skirt, and she pressed her face into the silky soft strands to inhale the scent of him, soap and cologne and man.

  He pulled her into his arms, kissing her deeply as he brought them both to their feet. His hands roamed her back, dipped inside her skirt to caress her bottom through layers of fabric, then moved back to her breasts. A moan of pleasure escaped her, and she slipped her fingers into his hair, deepening the kiss. His low, shuddering groan excited her, and a wild desperation edged their kiss.

  Suddenly, he broke away. “I need to get out of this suit.”

  “I’ll help you,” she whispered, wanting to please him, to be his wonderful willing wife, feeling as desperate and inflamed as he looked. She pushed the suit coat over his wide shoulders and down his muscled arms. He tugged his hands out of the sleeves, but his wince reminded her of his tender shoulder. She unbuttoned his shirt while he removed his tie. Then he wrested the gold links off his cuffs and shrugged out of his shirt, exposing his broad, bare chest.

  When he stepped back to remove his trousers, her skirt that he’d unbuttoned fell to her ankles in a cloud of puffy silk, leaving her standing in her white chemise, drawers, and petticoats. His hands stilled at the waist of his trousers, a look of wonder and amazement filling his eyes. “You are so beautiful . . .”

  His sincerity touched her. Maybe her experience with lovemaking was limited, but her knowledge of the human body was vast. If she watched and listened, her husband would show her how to please him.

  An unexpected sense of daring filled her, and she untied the waist ribbon on her petticoat. Slowly, she pushed it down her legs to lie in the heap of silk at her ankles.

  His dark gaze melted down her body like warm wax, molding her breasts, skimming her waist, caressing her hips, lingering on her lacy drawers and stocking-clad legs. That pleased him. She smiled and opened her arms to her husband.

  He embraced her and lifted her out of the mound of fabric. Breast to chest, she felt his heart hammering, and her own answering. Somehow, someway, she would make this strong, handsome, trembling man in her arms want her as his friend and lover for life.

  o0o

  Duke pressed his face to his wife’s temple, physically shaken by his desire for her. “I’ve wanted you in my arms like this since the first time I saw you. I want to give you romance and fireworks.”

  “I’m looking forward to it,” she answered, her voice low and sultry, her eyes half-closed with what he hoped was desire.

  His lusting body was in favor of an immediate demonstration, but his brain cautioned him to slow down. “I planned to woo you into our marriage bed slowly, but after seeing you like this, God help me, I can’t slow down. Am I pushing too fast?”

  “Not if you want to consummate our vows before our first anniversary.”

  Her gentle humor eased his worry that he was rushing her, but he couldn’t move forward without asking the question that had been circling his mind since they spoke their vows. He brushed a thick wave of hair away from her forehead, needing to see her eyes. “I hope you don’t view our marriage bed as a duty.”

  She sighed and caressed his cheek with her warm fingertips. “What we share privately is our gift to each other.” She brushed her lips to his. “I’m nervous, though, that I’ll disappoint you.”

  “You could never disappoint me.”

  “Remember that the first time I irritate you.”

  He smiled, relieved by her playful words. “I promise.”

  “Show me those fireworks.” She nipped his chin with her pretty white teeth. “Make me your wife.”

  A surge of lust tightened his groin, and he pulled her against him, kissing her urgently, deeply, hard. Because he couldn’t hold back. He couldn’t wait any longer. Her peaked breasts pressed through her chemise and flattened against his chest, making him wild for her. He rocked his hips against hers, demanding, insisting he satisfy the instinctive urges of his body.

  Gasping, he broke away to pull her chemise over her head. The garment lifted her long, gorgeous hair up for a brief second, then let it fall like a silky cape around her shoulders. Her skin was lightly bronzed, and her breasts round and full. He let the chemise fall at her feet and circled her waist with his palms, sliding them up to cup her breasts. Drunk by her beauty, he leaned down and swirled his tongue around the tan aureole of her breast, then sucked her peaked nipple into his hot, hungry mouth.

  She clutched his shoulders and arched against his lips, her breathy moan sending a jolt of heat straight to his groin.

  He hissed with pain and broke away, needing to shuck his trousers before they crippled him. He toed off his shoes, wrangled out of his painfully tight trousers, then shoved his drawers down, freeing his turgid shaft.

  He looked at Faith as he tugged off his socks. She was staring at him, at his lusting body, with parted lips and uncertainty in her eyes. If she asked him to slow down now, he may as well get his revolver and shoot himself. Because he couldn’t stop. And if he dallied much longer, he was going to embarrass himself and disappoint her, something he hadn’t done since his introduction to the act of lovemaking.

  “You’re magnificent,” she whispered, her
gaze filled with desire.

  That was all the invitation he needed. He yanked off his last sock and went to her. With shaking hands, he untied her drawers, taking deep breaths that did nothing to calm him. His body wanted and needed release. But he needed more. He needed to make their lovemaking special for her, for both of them and the vows they’d exchanged.

  As Faith slid her lacy drawers off her slender hips and down her long legs, he knew he was a goner. He lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed, not daring to kiss her. But when he sat her on the bed, she looped her arms around his neck and gave him a sweet smile.

  “It might be more civilized if you take off my shoes first.”

  He winced. “You’ve got me so wound up I can’t think straight.”

  She laughed, a light, happy sound he hoped to hear every night for the rest of his life.

  She sat nude on the bed, her hair streaming over one breast and down her back, looking up at him, smiling with that lush, kissable mouth, her whiskey-colored eyes promising him forever—and his heart knew love.

  Radford had been wrong. This wasn’t just lust. This was the beginning of the rest of his life. Finally, after sharing a mill with his brothers and a home with his mother and a job with a whole county, he had something to call his own. He had someone to take in his arms and love.

  He removed Faith’s shoes and fancy stockings, then lowered the lantern wick, the golden light revealing every curve of her breasts and waist and hips. His breath jammed in his chest.

  She turned back the covers to welcome him into bed, and his groin tightened yet again. It was all he could do not to lay her back and push between her long, slender thighs. His urges pounded through him, making his body shudder as he joined his bride in their marriage bed. He took her in his arms and kissed her, vowing to make this perfect.

  For all his fear of losing control, Duke found himself taking his time exploring his wife’s body. She was slender-boned and soft. Everywhere. And hot. She was ready for him, arching her hips up to his hand, gasping in his ear, but he wanted more—for her.

  She moaned into his mouth, raising his temperature, but he held back, moving his hand to her breasts to give her body time to level off before he took her higher.

  But she was writhing, her hands clutching him, her boldness surprising and pleasing. She suckled his neck and splayed her soft hands across his back, rubbing them down his body in a sweeping massage. Then she brought her hand forward to his stomach, and lower, her warm fingers circling him.

  Heat surged into his groin and he groaned, wanting to grip her hand around him and rock his hips. He deepened his kiss and moved his hand to her hot center, stoking her fire, making her whimper until she broke their kiss.

  “This is magical,” she said, her voice trembling, wonder filling her eyes.

  She met his mouth with an ardor that shook his control, and he sensed she was ready to soar. He fit himself between her legs and, finally, thankfully, joined them as man and wife.

  Nothing had ever felt as right or as good as joining his body and his life with Faith’s. He took her to her peak with a slow rolling and thrusting of his hips, her cry of release washing over him, making him want to stay forever, but in the tight heat of her body, her gasps and shudders pushed him into his own soaring climax.

  o0o

  Aftershocks of pleasure shuddered through Faith as she lay beneath her husband, breathing in ragged gasps, her mind and body stunned. Iris had told her the difference between intercourse and making love, but now Faith knew for herself. She wasn’t a virgin, but she’d just made love for the first time in her life.

  With her husband, her lover.

  She kissed Duke’s neck, loving the smell of his skin and light cologne. “I didn’t see fireworks,” she whispered in his ear. “I felt them.”

  He pushed to his elbows and looked down at her, his hair mussed and adorable. “I wanted to take it slow for you, but seeing you like this, so beautiful, so willing to please me” —he brushed his knuckles over her jaw— “it just bowled me over.”

  “I love this part of being your wife.”

  A pleased look lit his eyes. “Am I too heavy for you?”

  “No.” She smiled and stroked her hands up his back. “I like you in my arms.”

  “Good, because I’m not going to be able to keep my hands or body off you.”

  He kissed her tenderly then rolled to her side and pulled her into his arms, holding her against his warm body.

  But she felt her secrets lying between them.

  The peepers outside their window serenaded them, and nothing could be more perfect than being held in her husband’s arms, hearing the strong, steady beat of his heart assuring her she wasn’t alone, that she was desired, and possibly even loved. They had so much . . . to lose.

  She shuddered as warm night air drifted across her skin, scenting the room with cut grass and a hint of their lovemaking. She stroked her husband’s shoulder, wanting to remember everything about this night—his smooth skin and flexing muscles, the sound of his ragged breathing when he’d consummated their vows, the taste of wine on his tongue, and the contented look in his eyes.

  “Are you tired?” she asked, needing his arms and the assurance that he was real, that this was real.

  “Not with you beside me.”

  “I want more,” she whispered. Heat shimmered in his eyes and leaned to kiss her, but she drew back. “I want to learn how to please you.”

  “You please me by being here.”

  “I can do better.” She would do better. “Lie on your stomach.”

  “I don’t think I can.”

  She looked down and gasped.

  A naughty chuckle rumbled in his chest. “There’s the hard evidence that you please me.”

  She stared at him, surprised but deeply pleased they would share bawdy humor in their marriage bed. Maybe they could share more someday. Maybe when she was assured of his love, when she knew he could understand and accept the truth, she could tell him.

  The admiring look in his eyes made her yearn to touch him. She splayed her hands over his broad chest and urged him onto his back, taking her first good look at her husband, the man behind the badge and the clothes. On her knees beside him, she smoothed her palms over his wide shoulders and dark-haired chest, then down the hard ridges of his abdominal muscles. “You’re like bronzed steel . . . strong . . . beautiful, a handsome warrior,” she said, pleased that her touch was making his body react and his breathing grow ragged. His thighs were rock hard and feathered with hair, tensing beneath her touch, and inviting her to explore his glorious maleness.

  He groaned low in his throat and pulled her down beside him. Their mouths fused with urgency, and they explored each other with tender wonder and intense ardor. And when he pulled her beneath him, she sighed with pleasure and a fulfillment she’d never known. In her moment of soaring passion, she knew she would tell him the truth—when he was ready, when their future would be more important to him than her past.

  Chapter 27

  “When do they go to bed?” Duke mouthed to Faith, who was sitting on the sofa with Cora, inventing a story about a moose with one antler. Adam sprawled on the floor with his chin propped on the heel of one hand, studying a book.

  “Soon,” she mouthed back with an intimate, heart-stopping smile that brought his body roaring to life.

  He folded his newspaper and put it on the coffee table. After thirty-one years of living in his parents’ home, it felt deeply satisfying to be sitting in his own house with his own family; but he was more than ready to take his wife to bed.

  “Daddy, do you know a story about a moose?”

  From the minute he and Faith were married yesterday, Cora called him daddy, but each time he heard the word from her sweet little mouth, it melted him.

  “No, princess.”

  “What about a dog?”

  Adam lifted his head as if someone had just handed him a silver dollar. “Are we getting a dog?” />
  Faith laughed. “No, Adam. And before you ask, we don’t need a dog.”

  His expression fell and he turned back to his book.

  Duke thought of Boyd’s crazy dog Sailor and knew Adam would love a mutt like that. But he wasn’t talking about pets on his first night of being a family man.

  Cora slid off the sofa and leaned against his knee. “Will you tell me a story?”

  He glanced at Faith, but her smile said she wasn’t about to bail him out of his new duty “Sorry, Cora, I don’t know any.”

  “Just make up something,” Adam said, his eyes glued to his book. “She won’t care.”

  Make up something? Duke had spent so many years teaching himself to be precise, accurate, and truthful, he couldn’t begin to concoct a tale. But Cora’s hopeful stare melted him. Gads, he couldn’t fail at his first test as a father. “All right,” he began, summoning his nerve. He would tell her a true story. “One winter when I was a boy we had a huge storm that buried everything in snow.”

  “What kind of snow?”

  “Um, the white, fluffy kind,” he said, seeing Faith hide a smile behind her hand. “My brothers and I spent the morning shoveling out the entrance to the barn. When we finished, we decided we could slide off the roof and land in the huge snowbank we built.”

  Cora’s eyes goggled. “Was it scary on the roof?”

  “Not really,” he said. “My brothers and I climbed trees much higher than our barn.”

  Adam closed his book and sat up to listen. “Did you go off the roof?”

  “All afternoon. We hit that pile so many times it half crumbled. Kyle gouged a path through it, and before long, we had a long, icy slide. My brother Boyd got this crazy idea about riding our toboggan off the roof. He said we’d slide down the shingles, hit the snowbank, shoot through the grooved path, and sail clear across the yard.”

  Adam’s eyes lit with excitement. “Did you do it?”

  “Unfortunately, yes.”

  Faith winced. “You didn’t.”