Page 40 of Truly, Madly, Daring

Wrexham struggled to hide his smile. “I’m not sure I believe you. That did not sound the least bit convincing. Are you at least doing as I asked?”

“Yes.” Her voice sounded rather strained now and he couldn’t stand it a moment longer.

Wrexham stood and made his way to the foot of the bed, listening to the water splashing to orient himself.

“There is a chair to your right, but nothing directly between you and the bath,” she said, and he heard the anticipation in her voice. “Four steps.”

“Thank you, pet. Much as I’d wish to join you, I’d rather not fall in face first. Though perhaps I deserve to.” He moved cautiously, taking four steps and then kneeling, reaching out to discover the edge of the bath. “Good evening, my lady. Might I attend you?”

He jolted as a pair of warm lips pressed firmly against his. Emmeline’s body, warm and wet, was suddenly against him, soaking his shirt. Water ran down his back as she wrapped her arms about his neck. Wrexham groaned, desire rushing through his veins, setting fires under his skin and making him feel more alive, more joyful than he could ever remember.

“Get in,” she demanded, tugging his sodden shirt from his trousers.

“Is there room?” he asked, remembering how small the tubs most inns provided usually were.

“We’ll make room,” she said, such a determined note to her voice he laughed.

Between them, they stripped him, and Emmeline stood, guiding him so he could step safely into the bath. He sat with a sigh of pleasure as the warm water surrounded him. The tub was a decent size, but it was going to be deliciously snug for two. He held his hands up to her.

“Come along then, pet. Don’t torment me by making me wait.”

She took his hands, stepping carefully as she placed her feet on either side of his hips. Wrexham felt her move, her hands resting on his shoulders as she knelt. The breath seemed to leave his lungs in a rush as she sat, finding the perfect place with his cock nestled against her sex. He reached for her, pulling her against him for a kiss and startled when she resisted.

“Oh, no you don’t,” she said, batting his hands away, and he heard the laughter in her voice. “You are still in disgrace.”

“You won’t kiss me?” he asked, torn between frustration and amusement that she thought to punish him. He reached for her anyway, but once again, she pushed his hands from her lush curves.

“Not until you’re clean,” she said, using the prickly governess voice he was coming to adore.

“Yes, Miss Milly,” he replied gravely. “Just as you say.”

He sat still, meek as a lamb, with his hands resting on the edge of the bath, but with his heart crashing about in his chest as she reached for the soap. The warm, damp air, redolent with orange blossom filled his senses until he was giddy with longing, drunk with wanting her. Emmeline’s body, so warm and so close, was an intoxicating temptation, but she had made her rules and he wanted her to trust him. So he behaved himself, though the ache in his loins when what he wanted was mere inches away was almost more than he could bear. Yet, then the torment began in earnest, as her hands soaped his chest and shoulders, gliding over his body with such care and attention, the longing he felt transformed into something else, something far more dangerous and powerful than mere desire. She touched him like it meant something, like he was precious to her, necessary to her, and Wrexham told himself he was being ridiculous when his throat grew tight. But he could remember no one ever caring for him in such a way.

There had been women, of course there had, and some had professed themselves in love with him, but their love had always seemed to come with conditions, with a price attached, with expectations of what they believed he owed them. He had assumed Emmeline would be the same. Sweeter, perhaps less demanding, but the same.

Her slick hand coasted down his torso and sought the place that ached for her attention, wrapping her fingers around him and moving just as he had shown her.

“Oh, God.” He closed his eyes, tilting his head back. Wrexham felt the touch of her lips against his throat, pressing soft little kisses up and up until she nuzzled at his jaw and his patience snapped. “Emmeline,” he murmured, taking her in his arms and kissing her.

This time she let him have his way, which was just as well, for he did not know what he might do otherwise. Perhaps beg. His hands dropped to grasp her bottom, delighting in the plump, soft flesh and lifting her, desperate to be inside her.

“We can… in the bath?” she asked sceptically, making him laugh.

“Yes, love. We can wherever you like. In a carriage, upon a table, in the garden, whenever and wherever you desire.”

“I didn’t realise,” she said breathlessly as she guided him inside. “Like this?” she asked, sitting down and making him groan at the feel of her around him, hot and tight and sinfully good.

“Yes. Like that. God, you’re perfect, sweet Milly. So utterly perfect.”

She let out a little sigh that sounded amused and pleased and Wrexham’s heart soared. This was beyond anything he had imagined possible, beyond his wildest dreams of what his life might look like now. He’d believed everything had been taken from him with his sight, that he had been condemned to exist in the darkness until he went mad, but now…. If this was possible, if she could really care for him, what else might there be?

Wrexham was lost, overwhelmed with the feel of his wife in his arms, of the pleasure she gave him so willingly, so generously. He’d so richly deserved her anger, but she had not only forgiven him but shown him such tenderness, so that when she found her peak, the climax coming upon her, he was beyond control. He held her close, holding on for dear life as her body tightened around him and his own release shook him to his marrow. The cry that tore from his throat was raw and fierce and probably shocked her, but he couldn’t help it, couldn’t hold back.

Any thoughts of withdrawing were beyond him as the pleasure overwhelmed him, leaving him boneless and sated and happier than he could ever remember.

Emmeline collapsed against him, breathing hard, her head resting on his shoulder as he stroked her hair.

“That was even better than the first time,” she observed faintly.