Page 62 of A Daring Desire

She laughed, such joy in the sound that he stopped to stare at her in wonder.

“You make me happy,” she said, smiling at him.

“I don’t know why,” he said, helpless to comprehend her.

There was understanding in her eyes. “I know, but you do.”

Her hands fell to the short row of buttons at the top of his shirt, and she undid them, pulling at the material. Kilbane helped her, grasping the hem. He tugged it up over his head and cast it aside.

He was not a vain man, though he had faults enough to compensate, but he knew what he looked like. It would have been impossible to be ignorant of the interest he stirred, even in the gazes of those who held him in contempt. Especially them, for there were always those who professed themselves horrified by his conduct, and yet wanted a taste of his wickedness for themselves. Yet now, he saw himself through his wife’s eyes and he could not help a little burst of masculine pride at the darkening of her eyes as she looked him over.

“Like sculpted marble,” she murmured, trailing her hands down his chest and abdomen whilst his muscles leapt under her teasing caresses. “How beautiful you are.”

“Don’t stop,” he urged her, desperate to be rid of the trousers holding his body in check, wanting to feel his skin against hers so badly he could hardly breathe.

She flashed him an enthusiastic smile that made laughter bubble in his chest and the realisation hit him hard and fast, that he was happy. It was a revelation, one that came with guilt and reproaches for having fought so hard to stay away from her for so long, but it was too genuine an emotion to be repressed or diluted by what if and if only. Then her hands were undoing his trousers and small clothes, and his cock sprang free with obvious eagerness.

“Oh,” she said, sitting back and regarding this part of him with frank interest.

Kilbane bit back a snort of amusement, not wanting her to think he was mocking her when, in truth, he was enchanted, beguiled, and wholly under her spell.

“May I touch you?” she asked politely.

Kilbane’s reply was half groan, half choked laughter. “Please.”

Her slender hand caressed him tentatively as his cock leapt beneath her touch. She seemed to realise after a few seconds of this that it needed a firmer hand and grasped him with more confidence. His hips bucked, and he sucked in a breath as pleasure spiked through him.

There was an arrested look in her eyes as she noted his reaction, and so she did it again. She looked so vastly pleased with herself that he did not like to deny her, though it took a good deal of patience to stop himself from throwing her down onto her back and finding his place between her thighs. Instead, he let her toy with him, occasionally offering her a word of guidance that she was quick to follow.

“Like this?” she asked, glancing up at him.

He nodded, his breath quickening, but he reached for her, disengaging her grasp upon him and raising her hand to his mouth. Kilbane licked her from palm to fingertips.

“Try again,” he instructed, closing his eyes on a groan as her hand slid easier now and pleasure rippled down his spine. He was about to give her a word of praise for the splendid job she was doing when the warmth of her mouth closed over him. His eyes flew open, and the sight of his innocent wife engaged in such an act almost melted his brain. How he held back and did not spend that instant, he did not know.

“Stop, stop,” he managed, mitigating the look of chagrin on her face by tumbling her onto her back and kissing her hard and deep until her arms coiled around his neck.

“Sweet little wife, you are a menace,” he said, when he found his wits again.

She looked up at him in confusion. “Why? Did I do it wrong?”

He snorted, burying his face in her hair. “No, you did it exactly right, and if ever you need to persuade me to do something I don’t want to do, it’s exactly the right tack to take. I shall be putty in your hands.”

Mischief glinted in her eyes. “Rather harder than putty, I think,” she said thoughtfully.

Laughter bubbled in his chest, and he tried to remember ever being so at ease with a lover. There had been those he had laughed with certainly, and those he’d been fond of, but there had been nothing like this sense of connection, the desire to please and be pleased that ran far deeper than physical pleasure. He stroked back the hair from her face that spilt in a pale gold wave across the sheets, unable to keep the truth of his emotions at bay when she looked at him with such impish amusement.

“You make me happy, Catherine.”

She stared up at him, tears in her eyes. “That is all I have ever wanted,” she said simply.

He kissed her again, trying to convey through the tenderness of his lips, his caresses, the words that he did not know how to give her. She gave herself over to him entirely, without the least hesitation or anxiety, and the knowledge was a warm weight in his chest as found his place between her thighs and nudged gently inside.

He stared down at her, his body taut and aching with need, but his heart reluctant to bring her pain. She watched him, stroking his cheek, her silver eyes shining with happiness.

“Give me what I want, Ciarán. Make me your wife.”

There was no way of resisting such a command, certainly not when it was the only thing he wanted himself. Deciding it was best for her to get it done swiftly, he took her mouth in a kiss that sought to distract her and thrust hard.