AllFreeNovel
Share Us
No longer, however, could she exist in perpetual wanting and romantic confusion.I must know, she realized. Was he truly pining for her now, as her own body believed?
He’ll come to me. The thought came to her unbidden in the darkness, and she knew it to be true—just as she knew she could no longer abide pretending. She was not merely a dutiful wife without needs of her own. If he came to her chamber, he would need to know that.
Now I know I’m truly mad.Not only could she feel William’s body calling to hers, she suddenly felt the presence of the naughty nightgown in her armoire across her chamber.
A year ago, needing a fresh supply, she had surrendered to her French modiste’s shocking suggestion to add a sheer and revealing version to her wardrobe. With her usual directness, Madame Robillard had made the proposal, showing her a fashion plate illustration that had aroused Bea as much as scandalized her. The fabric was so transparent as to be a suggestion of a gown, not a functional one, and it provided no warmth.
Yet she found herself slipping it on a short time later, shivering until she returned to her bed. Perhaps she was setting herself up to be a fool once again, but by the night’s end, William would know her heart, and she would no longer feel like a coward and pretender.
What a paradox of a nightgown! For as fine and light as the fabric was, she ought not feel it against her skin, yet it was as sensual as hands stroking over her nipples. Within minutes of tossing and turning in her bed, she found herself on her back, one hand plying her breast, the other stroking the small peak betwixt her thighs.`
William’s soft knock both frustrated and delighted her. His arrival interrupted her before she could reach climax. The thought of him participating, helping her to reach her pleasure, roughened her voice when she called out to him to enter.
“I’m not waking you?”
“No. Come in, my lord.”
With half-closed eyes, Bea watched him set the candlestick on the table. He avoided looking at her so studiously, he had climbed onto the end of the bed and was on his knees between her legs when he finally glanced up.
His muscular shoulders and arms were rigid, and his face was tight. Holding his cock above her, he froze. When he searched her gaze, for once she employed no ladylike mask over her truest self. Her adoration of him shone through, as did every licentious desire that had passed through her mind in the minutes before. She wanted, nay needed, his thick cock inside her. His large but gentle hands were required on her breasts. He—
With a deep sound of distress, William sat back on his haunches, distancing himself from her, but he couldn’t help looking down, between her legs. The sight stole his breath, and he moved his fist up, then down his rigid manhood. Bea spread her thighs wider and lifted her knees.
His moan evoked her own. She couldn’t quite visualize what he saw, but she knew the gist. As she had touched herself, she had grown increasingly wet, and she felt swollen and achy. Breathing heavily and squeezing himself, William looked rooted to the spot.
She cast off the bedsheets and blankets. The shiver that went through her and the press of her pink nipples through the gossamer gown had nothing to do with the chill in the air.
“Good God,” he choked out.
Bea reveled in the storm in his eyes. The sloping neckline of the gown had slipped off one shoulder, and his eyes moved over her creamy skin, bared to him for the first time. He’d pushed the hem up to her belly, where it pooled, exposing her sex entirely.
I wasn’t insane. He wants me.
She extended her legs and wrapped her ankles around his hips, trying to draw him to her. Her heart and body soared when his hand closed over her thigh and he moved closer. But then he withdrew, sliding from her bed as if fleeing a demon.
Bea sat up, breathing hard, embarrassment prickling again. She stared unblinkingly at her husband, who stood with his back to her, in his nightshirt, with one hand grasping the beveled crystal doorknob. A single twist of it and he would leave, returning to his own chamber.
After a time, his hand dropped, fisting by his side like the other.
The tension in his body and his continued presence spurred her.
“You’re struggling,” she said from right behind him. “But I have what you need. As you have what I need. I’m struggling, too.”
With a frustrated groan, he braced himself against the door, both palms pressed high. “Wecan’t, Bea, we—“
He gasped when her hands clasped his hips. “We can, William.”
“We mustn’t!”
“I don’t believe that anymore.” She slipped her arms around him. His hands closed over hers, and she hugged him more tightly in return.
“But you’re my Marchioness, not my…”
“I’m your Marchioness and your wife. Your woman,” she whispered. He was so solid against her, and she marveled at the width of his shoulders. She permitted her mouth to rub lightly over the fabric covering his shoulder blade, making him shudder. “Our union is a blessed one, William, sanctified by marriage. How can it be wrong to share this?”
He groaned her name.
“I can’t pretend anymore, even if what I wantiswrong. I wantyou, William.” His hands tightened on hers, emboldening her. “I’ve never felt your lips on mine, but I want to. I want you to taste me, as I want to taste you.”
