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“I need more space,” she replied, knowing full well to what he alluded.
“Come on top of me and lay your head on my chest and your feet over my hips.”
A delicious shock flared through her, and she suddenly found it difficult to breathe. “Do husbands and wives sleep like that?”
“I don’t know. We could.”
“Do lovers?” she asked, beyond curious.
“You’re the only person I’ve ever slept with through the night,” he said gruffly.
The knowledge warmed her. She tentatively faced him. His mouth was only an inch or two away from hers. Her eyes snapped to his, and the soft light from the lone candle barely made his features discernable, but more sensually compelling than at a distance. His eyes glittered with such intensity Daphne was almost discomfited. Almost. The wicked heat lurking in his eyes was irresistible, and the other part of her was undoubtedly stirred. She repositioned herself just how he had stated, her face to his chest, one of her legs draped across his thighs. She was practically lying on top of him, and it was surprisingly pleasant.
Thud. Thud. Thud. His heartbeat lulled her for several seconds. “I would like to visit the Asylum.”
“The gambling club owned by Riordan O’Malley?”
Riordan O’Malley had begun trying to establish himself in society, and several lords and ladies were rightly alarmed. The man’s reputation was dastardly, and his interest in society was suspect. The few occasions Daphne had interacted with him at one of Georgiana’s socials, Daphne had found the enigmatic Mr. O’Malley quite interesting.
“Oh yes, Georgianna has visited, and the tales of sin and debauchery she’s mentioned must be witnessed firsthand. She, of course, went in disguise.”
“Done.”
“You’re awfully accommodating.”
“You’re adventurous.”
“And you like that,” she said, responding to the rich pleasure in his voice.
“I do. In fact, I quite like you, my wife.” His tone was mild, languid even, as if he had not just said something she had never thought to hear from him. Daphne was very aware not many men in the ton actually liked their spouses. It was such a simple phrase, yet so frightfully complicated. It hinted that more was possible, and the surge of yearning that went through her brought tears to her eyes.
Another silence fell, and though several minutes passed she could tell from his heartbeat that he was nowhere close to slumber. Unable to bear being so close, she untangled from him and repositioned on her side, facing away from him.
“Why do you hesitate with your desires?”
Her heart gave a fierce leap at his low murmur and how it stroked along the sensitive nerve endings in her body. “I cannot,” she said, her voice embarrassingly husky with need.
“Why not?”
She had gained enough knowledge to know how children were brought into existence. And she had enough self-possession to realize once he touched her, her resistance would crumble alarmingly. Her vow to give their marriage a chance for eight weeks did not mean that she had given up on the future she wanted to carve for herself. She tried desperately not to think about the future. Not now…at least not for another several weeks. She wanted to bask in this rare moment of being tempted, of knowing it would take so little to yield, and anticipating the pleasure that would await her. “I do not want to fall with child.”
Her earl stilled, then his body relaxed. She felt the weight of her hair shift and a kiss was pressed against the nape of her neck, the caress the softest brush of satin.
The devil was so gentle…the fleeting touch so persuasive.
“There are ways to prevent that.”
Before she could formulate a reply, he said, “In fact, tonight, I only want to please you. I will not take more than you are willing to give.”
Wasn’t that the problem? With a simple touch, she wanted to surrender everything to him. “It would be terribly selfish of me.”
For she had no intention of yielding to the pulse of desire between them, and he seemed to understand her unspoken denial.
“Be selfish.”
She swallowed, tempted beyond anything she had ever endured.
“Take your pleasure with me, wife.”
He snaked his hand around to her hips and curved his body behind hers. His erection jutted into her buttocks, and she boldly reached around and between them to lightly skim her hand over his straining hardness.
His groan was tortured and pleased in equal measure.
“I cannot risk it.” It would be quite different if he loved her. Then she would risk everything.
Her earl dragged her nightgown up and bunched it at her waist. Then he eased one of his legs between hers and parted her slightly. Daphne jerked as he cupped between her legs.
“You’re wet.”
Mortifyingly so. He caressed her slick folds, and she shivered at the astonishing pleasure that tightened low in her stomach.
“No matter how tempted I am, I won’t take you with my cock. That way, we’ll not risk you becoming pregnant.”
Her breath faltered entirely. “That goes against your desire for an heir.”
“I’m a patient man,” he said mildly. “And I want…no, I need you to be selfish and do whatever you want tonight. I’m yours to command, my wife.”
How utterly remarkable and delightful. Who better to explore all the desires that had been buried in her heart for so long with?
“I’ll use my fingers and tongue to pleasure you. I’ve spent many nights imagining your sweet plump folds on my lips, and my tongue flicking along your pearl.”
Dear God.
“How strange it is that I never knew,” she said.
His hand slid along the outer curve of her thigh, pulling her night rail up to her waist. Allowing him to touch her was fast becoming a matter of self-preservation. Surely she would expire if the need twisting through her veins was not assuaged.
“Knew what?”
She arched her head into his chest and stared up at him. “That you were so wicked,” she whispered and leaned forward to brush her mouth lightly across his. “And that I would like it so very much.”
He caught her lower lip between his teeth and tugged with soft nips. Sylvester shifted, barely, and she was suddenly flat on her back, her earl’s powerful frame looming over her. His head dipped, and his lips caressed fleetingly along her jaw to her ear, where they lingered. “I’ve envisioned you riding my tongue and fingers, sweat slicking your skin, your lips parted on a scream, your eyes wild with need.”
She heard the arousal in his voice and felt the answering ache between her legs. She savored the sensual gleam in his eyes. His mouth came down on hers, hard and fierce and urgent. It was much too late to protest, even had she wanted to do so. Firm hands gathered her nightgown at the front and ripped, parting the silk in the middle and exposing her naked form to his gaze. The ravenous kiss eased, and once again, he placed the lightest of kisses across her lips, down to her collarbone and around the edges of the frayed nightgown. He worshiped at the underside of her breast, never touching her nipples, never assuaging the ravenous attention they demanded.
She swallowed a heavy sob of frustration, gripped his hair, and tugged him up, slanting her mouth over his. How quickly their kiss became desperate. His tongue stroked overs hers in a sensual exploration that was tender and arousing and wildly exciting. With a deep groan, he tore his mouth away from hers and bent to take a throbbing nipple between his teeth. A wild cry tore from her throat. Her skin felt engulfed in flames, and she wanted the empty ache that had lingered inside for six tormenting years to be filled.
Firm hands gripped her hips and pushed her up until the cabin walls prevented her movements, while he inched down, his hot breath whispering over her exposed mound. His eyes met hers for a moment. Sweet mercy, from the inside out, she needed his touch. The slow smile he gave her was impossibly wicked and carnal, then he dipped his head, and his tongue glided through her wet folds.<
