Page 85 of How to Start a Scandal

He hummed in acquiescence—no sense in denying it—and offered her his arm.

She accepted his offer, her touch sensual as it crept slowly over the crook of his elbow. ‘Dare I ask what you’re thinking?’

‘Dare me to show you and you’ve got yourself a bargain.’ He lifted a brow at her.

She sucked in a breath and glanced about.

‘You needn’t worry,’ he assured her. ‘We’re quite alone.’

She stepped closer, bringing with her the sweet scent of violets that adorned her dark hair. ‘I’d rather be even more alone.’

He grinned. ‘Who am I to deny my lovely young wife her wishes?’

He led her up the stairs to his bedchamber, closed the door and turned the key in the lock. His heart slammed like a drum in great, heavy thuds.

She looked up at him with a coquettish smile. ‘Now you’ll show me what you were thinking?’

A kiss on the back of her gloved hand hadn’t been enough for him earlier. He’d wanted her full lips under his, her curves pressed against him.

‘With immense pleasure, my wife.’ He pulled her into his arms and lowered his mouth to hers the way he’d longed to do.

She met his kiss and parted her lips so her tongue brushed his. Fire shot through him, singeing every nerve ending with the force of his blatant desire. He had held off on being alone with her after their engagement until this very moment, when he knew he would not have to hold back.

‘Violet,’ he groaned into her mouth. ‘My beautiful Violet.’

She echoed his desire with a moan and ran her hands down his chest, plucking at the buttons of his waistcoat. He tipped her head back further and deepened the kiss as his hands met the cool silk of her gown and the lush curves beneath.

His palms skimmed over her hip, over her round rump and up to her full breasts. He wanted to hold every voluptuous part of her to him and marvel at the movement of her breasts while he took her in hard, steady thrusts.

A growl slid from somewhere in his throat. He dragged his mouth down to her neck where the sweet, powdery scent of her violet perfume fired through his senses like erotic gunpowder. His fingers fumbled with frantic need over the silk-covered buttons. The damn things were impossibly small and slipped beneath his fingertips before finally releasing from the narrow closures.

The task was rendered all the more difficult by the way Violet’s hands roamed over his torso. She pushed his jacket down his shoulders, forcing him to briefly part from the buttons. Next came his waistcoat.

Damn it, how many bloody buttons were there?

He was somewhere midway down her back when her fingers curled around his shaft and his mind went utterly and completely blank.

He didn’t recall undoing the rest of the buttons, but he did remember the exact moment that he eased the delicate fabric from her shoulders with a simple caress and how it fell like a sigh to the ground in a shimmering pool of fine silk.

Her fingers abandoned their exploration while he took her in.

The short corset she wore was of a heartier silk, also blue where it cradled her breasts in offering to him with the globes of firm cleavage rising high on her chest. Good God.

He cradled her breasts in his hands and buried his face in their bounty. They were likewise perfumed with that quintessential violet scent. He grazed his mouth over her smooth, warm skin while his fingers teased at the edge of the heavy silk, drawing it down to free a single pink bud of a nipple.

It popped free of the binding and his mouth closed over it, his tongue flicking until the little nub was instantly hard against the tip of his tongue. Violet cried out and cradled his head, holding him to her generous breasts.

He continued to love her nipples while his fingers found the silken cords used to tie the bodice. He unknotted the dratted thing, unlaced it and shoved it aside so she wore only her chemise.

He was practically panting with need. His hands shook as he reached for the small ribbon that held the neckline of the chemise drawn closed. Now. He would finally see her now. Love her now. Have her now.

And, oh, how he wanted her. With a lust that couldn’t be slaked by a single night together. A lifetime might not be enough for him, especially with how she moaned and squirmed under his touch. She’d hidden that passion with the wallflowers for years and he would make her experience it to the fullest every day for the rest of their lives.

He took that simple ribbon and wound one end around his forefinger securely. His gaze slid to hers. The delicate muscles of her neck stood out and she watched him with what almost appeared to be shyness.

Despite the confidence she exuded, there was still self-doubt lingering on her face. Her forearms flinched where they hung awkwardly at her side, as though she longed to cross her arms over her chest and press the thin linen closer to her body so it couldn’t be lifted off.

Her self-consciousness wouldn’t be apparent to most, but a lifetime of knowing her made it apparent to him.