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“No,” she shook her head, slightly puzzled still as to what he was doing here. “Is…” The warmth of his presence confused her even more. His sculpted body underneath that robe tempted her to touch him or better yet, to have him touch her the way he did in her dream. “Is something the matter?” she finally managed to ask.
“No,” he shook his head, scratching the back of his neck. She had never seen him do this, but it made him so endearing. “To be quite honest, I am not certain what I am doing here…”
She tilted her head in eagerness to hear him say something else. She waited patiently.
“It is about Lady Susan,” he finally uttered those words that had led him here. “I am certain that you have some questions, especially because of the way in which she spoke, and –”
“I do,” she interrupted him apologetically, but she couldn’t hold back her inquisitiveness any longer. “I mean, I was wondering what must have happened between you, but I felt like it was not my place to pry,” she admitted.
He shrugged. “We are husband and wife. Although perhaps not in the real sense of the word, I feel like there is still respect between us.”
“I agree,” she nodded. She liked where this was heading. It was completely unlike the dream, but it was still good. In fact, it was better because it proved to her what she was discovering on her own: the Duke of Mosebridge was something much different than whatthe tonpegged him to be.
“That is why I believe you deserve an explanation,” he continued. She swallowed heavily, nervously in anticipation of the story that she was about to hear. “Lady Susan was my betrothed,” he divulged, still standing on the other end of the door, neither of them willing to move closer or to change their place. They felt close, yet at the same time, they were still separated by the doorway at a safe distance from each other as if the presence of the other was somehow a danger.
“I thought she loved me as much as I loved her,” he continued, and the moment he pronounced those words,love,Amelia shocked herself by realizing that she was jealous. Her heart ached at the idea that he loved this ghastly woman. Perhaps he loved her still? That threat was even worse. But she continued to listen silently, unwilling to reveal anything that was happening inside of her. “After the fire… she left me. She told me that she thought I was the one responsible for the fire, and… she said she was afraid of me, afraid I might hurt her.”
Amelia could heart the hurt in his voice. This time, she didn’t feel any jealousy. It was love in its purest form, love for another human being who suffered and who needed to be shown that despite all that, he was still worthy of being loved. Amelia lifted her hand and caressed his cheek. The touch felt scorching hot, but she didn’t pull away.
“I cannot imagine you ever hurting anyone,” she whispered to him, taking a step closer.
She could no longer deny his scent which seemed to permeate all of her senses. He smelled of citrus and musk, strong and masculine. When she neared him, a faint whiff of spirits still lingered on his lips. Some strange and up until this moment unknown part of herself made her want to pull him close. It made her want to kiss him with not only her mouth but also her tongue. The thought felt so foreign, and yet, at the same time, it seemed like the most natural thing to do.
“I would never hurt you,” he said as his hands settled on her thin waist. He pulled her close to him so forcefully that she almost lost balance, but instead of falling, her hands landed on his chest. Just like in her dream, she wondered if she should push him away. Perhaps, thiswasa dream, and she would wake up soon after with that same ache between her thighs. If it was a dream, she would enjoy it.
Her lips parted as she felt his hands glide down her waist, cupping her bottom then he yanked her towards himself with his hands full of her. How strange it felt. How wonderful. How painstakingly delectable as she felt the thick rod of his manhood press against her lower abdomen. Heat exploded between her thighs, and she instantly became breathless, unable to make heads or tails of her own thoughts.
Fortunately, she did not need to speak because the next moment, his lips were pressed against hers.
* * *
Arthur had been waiting for this moment for an entire eternity it seemed. Her lips felt tender and soft, like ripe cherries, and he longed to bite into them. But he dared not. All he did was lick her upper lip as he kissed her gently. He could not force himself upon her although his manhood urged him to do so this very instant.
His hands brought her even closer to himself as her curves pooled into his own body. From that first night when he saw her in that lovely, beige nightdress with her hair down and her face of an angel, he knew that he would not be able to resist this temptation, no matter how hard he tried. He remembered everything she had said, and he agreed, but it made no sense now. All he could see was her face, her lips, and her body melting into his own.
She tasted like the sweetest fruit as he feasted upon her lips. Gently he lifted her up and brought her back into the chamber, closing the door with his leg. The devil on his shoulder ordered him to tear that virginal nightdress off of her and show her all the exquisite delights he wanted to do to her, but he couldn’t do it.
He sat her on the bed, lowering his head to hers to continue their kiss. Slowly, he kissed down her neck and along her collarbone. Her head fell slightly to the side, giving him better access. She moaned like a little kitten just when he was about to ask her if he should stop. The sound made him smile.
Instantly, he pulled her nightgown over her head, exposing her naked body to his sight and to his touch. He dropped down to his knees before her as she trembled. The goddess that she was… she was trembling before him while it should have been the other way around.
Reverently, he kissed her breast. His reward was the sharp inhalation she released as his lips rounded themselves around her pebbled nipple. Her legs tightened. She grabbed him by the hair, and for a moment, he thought that she would push him away. But she did exactly the opposite. She held him in place as if petrified that he might disappear, and that this was all a dream.
He felt lust surge through his veins, but he knew he could not take her now. He could please her. He wanted to please. He wanted her to spend on his mouth, on his tongue, to hear that moan and to know that it was he who caused it.
Still licking at her nipple, lashing it with his tongue and wet lips, his fingers found her most secretive spot. Instinctively, she spread her legs, allowing him closer. Her neck arched backward. Her lips were parted, her eyes closed. She was lost in the moment, in the pleasure, washed over by his carnal intent. It made his cock raging wild for her.
She was already drenched as his finger parted her slick folds.
“Arthur…” she moaned his name, grinding against his hand. She knew exactly what she needed to do. The thought made him smirk as his tongue continued to swirl around her nipple. He had never seen more perfect breasts, more rounded and plumper, perfect for the size of his palm. Everything about her was pure perfection.
He found her pearl, rubbing it gently, feeling how deliciously swollen it was getting because of the friction. Her hips bucked forward. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. That much was obvious, and it was even more surprising. She had been fighting this magnetism between them as much as he had, but he was the first one to succumb to it.
Initially, all he wanted was to touch her. Nothing else. Just to feel that wetness between her legs, but now, her body, her scent, the way she responded to him demanded more of him. Desperately, he sank to his knees before her, spreading her legs. She looked down at him, her cheeks blushing fervently under the candlelight. Curiously, she waited to see what he would do.
He could not take his eyes off of her pink, glistening mold of curls. He leaned closer. Her scent was overpowering, the blossoming of her femininity, awakened by his fingers and now, his tongue. He could not wait to dive into her wet folds.
“Wait…” he suddenly heard her say. “You don’t mean to…”
