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Hastily, she covered herself, wondering what Trenton expected of her now. She could hardly excuse herself and leave, as this was her bedroom. Should she rise and don her nightgown? Act nonchalant and pretend nothing was changed? Impossible.
She watched him pour water on a clean cloth, chewing her lip nervously and wishing she had thought to ask Theresa questions about what happened afterward. Would he speak of what had transpired between them and expect her to do the same? Would he sleep in her bed or retire to his own room now that their marriage had been consummated?
With total candor, Ariana admitted to herself that she longed to have him spend the night beside her. Was that improper? Her lips twitched at the thought. Everything she’d felt and done tonight had been improper. Improper and absolutely wonderful.
Hesitantly, she searched for the right words to say, words that would convince him to stay without sounding foolish and pathetic. Perhaps he read her thoughts, for, to her joyous surprise, he turned and walked back, pausing beside the bed with the cloth in his hand.
Seeing her uncertain expression, Trenton smiled. “Let me ease this ache as well.” He sat beside her and peeled away the sheet, gently sliding her thighs apart to cleanse her.
Ariana tensed, instinctively closing her legs and catching his arm. “What are you doing?”
“I told you. I’m alleviating your soreness.” He smoothed the rumpled tendrils from her cheeks, giving her a look of pure male satisfaction. “Your modesty is a bit belated, wouldn’t you say?” He brought her fingers to his lips, unable to disguise the husky possessiveness in his voice. “Considering that I’ve just caressed and tasted every inch of you?”
Ariana blushed scarlet and lowered her eyes.
“I won’t hurt you,” he murmured solemnly. “Let me.”
Ariana felt herself responding to Trenton’s sensual command with the same innate trust he always seemed to elicit from her. Silently, she relaxed her legs, watching him wash the insides of her thighs ever so gently with the soothing cloth. Her eyes widened at the sight of blood.
“I’ll never have to hurt you again,” he promised quietly, answering her unspoken question.
She nodded, following the motions of his hands as they came to rest at the junction of her thighs. She sighed with pleasure at the exquisite relief of the cool compress on her raw, sensitive flesh … relief followed by a tingle of pleasure.
“Feel good?”
She started. How could he know?
“Yes.” He answered for her, his voice deep, rich.
“Yes,” she breathed, blushing anew as she remembered what he had been doing when he had last asked that question of her.
Trenton chuckled, stroking softly. “Such a wonderful embodiment of contradictions, misty angel. So passionate, so very shy.”
“As are you.”
His dark brows rose in amusement. “Passionate? Or shy?”
“Neither. I mean … well, yes, but what I meant was an embodiment of contradictions.”
He continued the sensuous circling of the cloth. “To the contrary, my breathtaking bride, at this moment I am singularly driven in my intent.”
“I’m not sure I understand your intent,” she whispered, hot pleasure radiating out from his caressing hand.
He stared down at her, his eyes hooded, dark with reawakened passion. Slowly, he tossed the cloth aside, replacing it with his fingers.
Ariana shivered. “Trenton …” The rekindled se
nsations escalated rapidly inside her, obliterating whatever inhibitions she might have had. Urgently, she reached for her husband, needing to share the exhilaration.
Trenton’s gaze followed the path of her slender fingers as they feathered across his shoulders, the muscles of his arms. His features tightened, and a hard tremor shook his body.
“You’re unbelievable,” he muttered, catching her hand and guiding it to his chest. Slowly, he drew her palm down his torso, gliding her fingers through the pelt of dark hair, along his rib cage, rubbing her palm over his nipples, groaning as they tightened instantly at her touch. “Feel my heartbeat,” he rasped, placing her hand flat over the drumming in his chest. “Feel what you do to me.”
Ariana was lost in the wonder of his body. The rough textures, the powerful muscles … so this was what made a man different from a woman. Not so different, she amended, feeling his nipples stiffen against her hand.
Warming to her sensual explorations, Ariana squirmed free and came to her knees, her other hand joining its mate. She felt the thundering of Trenton’s heart, heard his breath expel in a hiss, just before he seized her hand again and dragged it down to his painfully rigid erection.
“Touch me,” he commanded. His grip tightened at her hesitation. “Ariana … I need to feel your hands on me.”
