Page 78 of The Wolf Queen’s Curse

“No objections?” he asks.

“Is objecting an option?”

“It’s always an option, though I wouldn’t advise it. I intend to make this a wedding night to remember.”

I tilt my head. “That sounds like a challenge. Are you sure you’re up for it?”

His hand guides mine to the rock-hard bulge in his trousers. “I don’t know. Am I?”

“I mean … if you haven’t done this before, I’m not sure you should be making any promises.”

He throws back his head and laughs. “I believe I know what I’m doing.”

“But you said—”

He cuts me off with a kiss. Then his lips move over my chin and down my throat as I lean my head back, eyes closed, luxuriating in the soft tickle as his lips move down over my collarbone. The kisses circle one breast and then the other before his tongue does the same to my nipples, taking each in his mouth, pulling gently, tongue teasing as I arch up.

He moves on far too soon for my liking, but considering where he’s heading, I suppose I can’t complain. Bishop continues at that glacial pace, tasting and tickling and kissing, over my stomach and then my thighs and then my inner thighs.

When I sigh and spread my legs, he chuckles, and I feel that laugh vibrate through me. He keeps on with what he’s doing, though, taking his time and finally reaching where I want him to be. His tongue teases, barely touching as I squirm. I keep waiting for the deep kiss, the searching tongue, but it stays light, and I finally relax and enjoy what he’s offering.

Lovemaking. That’s what he’s offering. Taking time and care, and slowly igniting each inch of my body. As his tongue flicks and his lips move, his hands do, too, down my thighs, up my belly, exploring me as I’d done to him.

I sink back into the bed and spread my legs wider, fully opening myself to him and closing my eyes to enjoy the tease and tickle of his tongue as it slides in, excruciatingly slow, his face pressed against me as his tongue goes in, deep as it can reach, and then flicks inside, the sensation making my fists grip the sheets as I moan. His tongue moves in and out, fucking me slowly, and then his teeth graze my clitoris, and I think it’s an accidental touch and whimper softly, but he only chuckles and does it again, knowing full well what he’s doing of course, until it’s all too much and I come, crying out in ecstasy and relief.

His mouth moves back the way it came, over my inner thighs, up my stomach, pausing at my breasts before rising to my ear.

“I love you,” he says. “This is nothing I ever expected, and it is everything I ever wanted. You’re everything I ever wanted.”

He slides into me then, excruciatingly, tenderly slow, letting me feel him filling me, feel the want and the need and, yes, the love. Then he’s in me, all the way in me, and it’s not like the first time, where it was all delirious sensation, rising to a quick crescendo. I can feel him inside me, and I arch my hips, opening more, and then there is more, the last inches that he’d held back, making sure.

He pulls out and pushes in again, and it is incredible. Each time he thrusts, he picks up speed, only to try checking himself, to slow down, but I push up against him, urging him on, telling him I love him, want him, need him.

“My Delia,” he says as the crescendo builds. “My wife. My mate. Mine.”

“Yours,” I say. “Forever yours.”

And that does it. For both of us.

TWENTY-SEVEN

Our train isn’t due to depart until ten, which means we have time for a leisurely awakening, provided we start early, which we do. The only problem is making sure that the “awakening” doesn’t lead to an “asleepening” right after. To avoid that, my darling husband had the foresight to order coffee and have it left outside our door, which he brings in, along with a small breakfast, to help us get up and on our way.

We’re due to meet Julius and Rufus near the train station, where Julius will have already procured a food hamper for a more complete breakfast.

I’m in my travel dress, while realizing that at this rate I probably need a second one. There’s a lot of to-and-fro’ing before Bishop can assemble the force he needs to return to Trevelyan and then …

Well, given that we’re likely returning to a burned-out shell, I may indeed require additional simple dresses. It might also be a good time to add trousers to my wardrobe, as the men wouldn’t expect me to muck about a burned building in a dress. I do appreciate the freedom of trousers, though I can’t imagine I’d ever give up my dresses entirely.

I’m talking to Bishop about this as we go to the station. Our bags have been sent ahead, but after having such a long night indoors—with a long train ride ahead—we both wanted to walk, even if it is a couple of miles.

“Perhaps you could ask Ann to help tailor trousers and shirts to fit you,” Bishop says.

“Ann?”

“She is an excellent seamstress. Her mother used to mend and alter the Pack wolves’ clothing until she was sent belowstairs, whereupon she apparently ‘forgot’ how to do it.”

“I don’t blame her.”