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Releasing her clasp from around his shoulders, she leaned back slightly so they could see each other’s face. “It was a very naughty book,” she said softly.
A guarded look entered his expression. "Were you horrified for having been exposed to such lascivious wantonness?"
“No.”
She brushed locks of hair from his forehead, then with the tip of her finger, she gently traced the small scar at the corner of his mouth. “Do you wish to debauch me in such a manner?”
His thumb dragged softly over her bottom lip. “God help me, but I do, my Primrose. But we shall speak more on the matter after our marriage,” he said gently with a smile of such wicked promise her mouth dried.
A shiver, half dread, half anticipation, ruffled her composure. “Gabriel?”
“Yes, my sweet?”
She leaned over to kiss his lips softly. “I do not want to wait until our wedding night.”
Chapter 3
The muted sound of the howling wind outside echoed through the room. The fireplace danced, and the room dipped in more shadows as the last of the winter sun disappeared behind the clouds. The room felt more intimate, golden lights from the hearth danced over the blue patterned wallpapers, the thick silver drapes stirred, the winds sweeping through the cracks of the windows curling through the room.
She put her hand atop his chest, covering his fiercely beating heart. “We’ve already waited a year,” she tempted on a soft whisper. “Let’s not wait any longer.”
Her senses were filled with the warm, masculine scent of him. How she wanted this man. So many nights spent longing just for this intimacy, aching for the feel of his body covering her, his arms holding her, just as he was now. And she knew it was more than that, but she could not bring herself to voice her doubts. They felt too raw, too frightening. He'd never proved himself to be inconsistent, and she knew he loved her. But their entire courtship had been done in secret, and they had no idea of the strident objections they would face.
But if he should change his mind tomorrow at his family’s disapproval, she would have experienced passion and love with him, even just once. She would have memories that would last her a lifetime, and she would have them with a man she loved with her whole heart.
“Primrose,” her name escaped his lips like a plea.
“I’ve read the book,” she whispered, staring into his eyes. “Several times.”
Hunger flashed in his eyes, and a flush worked its way over his cheekbones.
His finger skimmed the neckline of her gown, tracing the flesh of her breasts. “Did you, truly?” he murmured.
She felt so sensual and adventurous—no longer an uncertain girl but a woman who was not afraid to satisfy the cravings which had long lingered within her heart for this man. “Yes. Twice.”
His gaze was so intent, his face a picture of sensuality, his eyes firing lust and approval. “And you do not wish to wait?”
“I daresay you are catching on, my darling. Debauch me. Let me be wicked with you.”
Gabriel gave her a long, unfathomable glance. Holding her gaze, he dipped his hands under her nightdress. Her mouth dried. With painstaking sensuality, she dragged her dress up until he bunched it at her waist. Then he slid his hands over the smoothness of her thighs.
His expression became one of aroused contemplation. “I’ve long doubted a respectable wife would be willing to indulge my brand of lovemaking.”
“I received your book…and I read it and observed all those erotic drawings without fainting.” Never would she admit how close she had come to collapsing when she'd seen the indecent images of a woman on her knees with a man’s private part in her mouth, or when she’d seen the reverse, the man licking along the woman’s slit. “Can I not be respectable and all that you need?”
His lips quirked ever so slightly. “I think you are the best of women, Primrose. I have a visceral need," he murmured. "And you are so sweet and ladylike in your manners, I've hesitated touching, speaking to you as for how I would wish. How torturous it had been not to take you, and it was my weakness to be myself with you that had me buying that book from a shop in France and sending it to you.”
Primrose trembled. “And how do you wish to speak to me?”
His eyes were dark, intent, watching her closely. “In ways that would ruin your sensibilities, my sweet.”
Remembering all those pictures, something hot and wanton stirred inside her. “And what way is that?”
There was a breathless pause, then he said, “Filthy.”
That single whispered word sounded like a curse, a benediction, something depraved but also freeing. There it was again, that dark flash of need in his eyes, something untapped and maybe a part of him she would never be able to sate now that she became aware of it. Her curiosity stirred, and something unknown tumbled over inside her. But she did not bury it. Instead, she leaned in, and licked across the seam of his lips, leaving them wet and glistening. “Then talk filthy to me.”
Heat engulfed her, and he chuckled.
