What could she tell him? That simple flowers were the thing to split open her guarded heart? That her resolve to cling to the tattered remains of her animosity had been done in by peonies?
But it was so much more than that at the heart of it. To know he’d carried pieces of her with him in all his travels, and—even if he hadn’t written back—they’d meant enough that he’d kept them, carted them around, held them, and read them repeatedly.
Alaina shook her head as best as she could with her face buried in his chest and looked up to meet Sterling’s concerned gaze. Hot tears escaped her eyes when she witnessed the earnestness there, the vulnerability she hadn’t been expecting. “You have no idea what it’s like to suddenly realize that you do matter to someone—that you have always mattered…”
His mouth hardened, but his eyes grew softer than she’d ever seen before he pulled her against his body more tightly, as if wanting to absorb every ounce of pain she’d felt these past eight years. She inhaled the lingering delicious scent of his cologne, a hint of starch from his cravat lingering at the pulse in his throat, and the unique, clean musk of his skin. Alaina was suddenly keenly aware of his feverish flesh and nakedness, though it was absurd because how could shenotbe aware of this man’s body and presence? If she’d learned one thing, it was that she was aware of his every movement and every glance. She was so tired of fighting this, so tired of being alone—especially when this man holding her would give her everything, had done so much to ingratiate himself to her once more. He’d met every one of her challenges with fire of his own. And he was strong enough to be calm and quiet when it mattered most.
The warmth of his eyes spread throughout her body with insistent tendrils until she felt it from her head to the tips of her bare toes.
“Will you kiss me?” she whispered without thinking.
“Always,” he murmured, his pupils widening to nearly swallow their hazel rims. His hand snaked up to cup the back of her head, his fingers gently winding between the strands of her thick plait of golden hair to tilt her chin up. His warm breath tickled her lips, parting them on a sigh, and then his mouth grazed hers in an incredibly tender side-to-side skim.
He pressed gentle caresses to her top lip, then the bottom, then the sensitive corners, before finally giving her that which she ached for. His mouth sealed over hers, a perfect fit. Their lips mated in a perfect combination of need and tenderness, tasting and learning one another in a way that was so very long overdue. Sterling’s tongue met hers, sweeping in deeply to tangle and stroke her until her joints grew weak. Though relatively untutored, she met his kisses and touches with her own, gradually losing her self-consciousness as the minutes ticked by. She stepped more closely to hold herself upright by wrapping her arms ’round his neck, stretching to her toes until her calves burned.
A hot, steely hardness pressed against her lower abdomen, through the layers of the coverlet, her robe, and nightshift. Long and thick, his member throbbed insistently, demanding her attention. Happy to oblige, she leaned in even closer. Sterling released a low, deep sound in his throat. Her leaden mind all at once snapped to attention. Even her practically inexperienced mind recognized what this meant. Her husband desired her, in no uncertain terms.
Alaina broke the kiss, pulling away just far enough to give their mouths a breath’s space between. Her eyes darted down to the straining bulge between them. The ladder of his abdominal muscles above the edge of the sheet clenched convulsively, his chest heaved unevenly. She’d seen him shaken by arguments, practically vibrating with tension, but nothing compared to how tightly coiled he was just then.
Despite her burning cheeks, Alaina shoved aside all trepidations, bolstered her courage, and slowly reached forward to hook her fingers in the edge of the coverlet draped around Sterling’s hips. The heat of his bare skin seared the backs of her knuckles most deliciously. Slowly, she began to tug the fabric from his grasp. There was only a moment’s hesitation before he relinquished it to her, and she could feel his eyes upon her as tangible as a finger’s touch. When the coverlet dropped to the floor, Alaina released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding in one long, slow exhalation.
He was a beautiful man, her husband.
Shamelessly, she admired the thick strength of his thighs, honed from years of riding; the lean cut of his calves dusted lightly with light brown hair; back up to the impressively thick column of his aroused sex where it sprang from a nest of dark chestnut curls, accentuated by the elegant wings of his pelvis. Alaina swallowed convulsively.Oh my…None of her friends had ever described the male member in such glorious, vivid detail as the one before her.
And she doubted any words could ever do it proper justice.
It excited her and made her nervous in equal measure. Faced with its jutting pride, its wide, blunt head and the soft, heavy sac beneath filled her with a confusing amount of anticipation. She knew as much that, should a man care to try, this part of him might bring her an unspeakable pleasure. And, if she’d learned one thing, Sterling would go to great lengths to do so.
It is your right to demand pleasure from me…
His words expanded within her skull until there was little room for anything else, like heady, intoxicating smoke in a closed room.
She dragged her eyes up along the thin trail of tawny hair that climbed toward his navel, across the defined ridges of his abdomen, the smooth planes of his chest and broad shoulders, the tenseness of his neck muscles as he held himself impossibly still and in check. His swirling hazel eyes watched her with an emotion she could not fully define. Desire was there, to be sure, but something else. A question?
“Alaina,” he whispered almost painfully. She could only meet his eyes and curl her lips between her teeth as she waited in tense silence for him to continue. “What I told you earlier about there never being other women…” Her heart stuttered. Was he going to admit to a lie?Now?“There never was another woman. Not since the day I met you.”
Alaina’s mind stuttered at the admission, taking far longer than it should have to process it. “You mean…”
“When I told you none of the despicable rumors of my behavior on the Continent were true, I meant it. In all this time, no face has ever enticed me as much as yours, no mouth has drugged me so sweetly. I knew the moment I saw you, I wanted you; I knew the first time we spoke, I would never desire another.” He spoke with bald frankness, though the slight pink on the crests of his cheeks was incredibly endearing. “I cannot lie and say I have never seen another woman bared before me, but I can speak with confidence when I declare there has never been another woman as beautiful as you, wife. And I hope only to bring you pleasure.” His chest rose and fell with deep, broken breaths, as if his heart were attempting to break free of its cage. “You can touch me,” he rasped. “Please, touch me. Put an end to my misery.” She’d never heard her husband so near the brink of shattering. It was counterintuitively humbling to know she held all the power—even more so when she considered that, beyond all odds, this situation felt as if they were on leveler ground than they had been in years. He stood naked before her in both body and heart; he had yet to see her thusly. He was handing her control, and it was so tempting for her to relent and do the same.
Hesitantly, Alaina reached up and, with a feather-light touch, ran her fingers along the lines of his defined collarbone to the point where it melded into the swells of his broad shoulders. Her hands traced a tantalizing trail down to his flat nipples, so different from her own needy buds pressing so insistently against the soft fabric of her nightshift. Her nails grazed a path further to the undulating muscles of his abdomen, the defined wings of his pelvis, and, feeling unaccountably brave, through the crisp nest of hair cradling his member. She was utterly enthralled, and she was rewarded with a desperate inhalation from her husband. Still, he did not touch her in return. Her hands froze just shy of caressing that part of him that bobbed and strained so fervently for her attention.
Sensing her hesitation, Serling held himself even more still than she thought physically possible for a living, breathing man. “What is the matter?” he asked with a very subtle tremor.
“I—I am…” she trailed off, suddenly feeling very silly voicing her insecurities. “You are so beautiful,” Alaina finally breathed, unable to meet his eye for fear of what she might find there. Few times in her life had she felt less certain of herself, and it was maddening. “And I am unsure.”
Sterling crooked a finger beneath her chin and gently lifted it so he might look into her face. The corner of his mouth was tilted in a small smile, but it was far from mocking or unbearably prideful. It was reassuring. And what she saw in his eyes melted her all the way to her molten core.
“Come,” he breathed and engulfed her hand in his before turning to lead her across the room and, to her surprise, away from the bed. Her spiraling mind halted when she glimpsed the delectable swells of his rear, flexing with his every confident step. So distracted was she that she nearly collided with him when he stopped before the full-length looking glass leaning in the corner of the room.
Sterling’s hands gently guided her to stand before him to face the polished surface. His beautiful eyes were deep green in the dim lighting when they met hers in their reflection.
“Do you know what I see?” he asked, standing so close she could feel the vibrations of his voice in her back. She forced herself to break his intense gaze and ran her eyes along her shadowed figure. She wasn’t vain, but she knew herself to be reasonably attractive—at least, she’d been described as such in tabloids and by more than a couple of admirers taking advantage of her absent husband to boldly proclaim their admiration. She possessed a slim figure and had learned long ago how to accentuate her features with her fashion choices. Her golden hair glinting in the flickering light was considered desirable. Her nose was straight and had been described as fey. While taller than some women, she wasn’t so tall as to be considered unattractively so, or to be intimidating to most male dance partners. Any grooming or dressing was merely a façade.
No man had ever seen her so unadorned, so without artifice. And now, as she stood before the mirror in her husband’s bedchamber, she saw a woman who was nearing thirty years of age. A married virgin. A woman who wore no rouge and whose hair hung down her back in a simple plait affixed with only a satin ribbon. Her wrapper in a print of blue flowers was modest; the lace of her nightshift tickled the tops of her feet, and her bare toes peeked from beneath the fabric. She fought the girlish urge to bury them in the pile of the rug.
“Just a woman,” Alaina replied with uncharacteristic meekness.
