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“Why are you in my bedroom?” Ariana repeated, stopping in front of him. She glanced at the glass on the nightstand. “Drinking?” she added.
“I’ve had only one drink,” Trenton replied. “And I was watching you. And thinking.”
She drew a shaky breath and purposefully straightened her shoulders. “About the apology you were going to extend to me?”
Despite his black humor, Trenton’s lips twitched at her dignity and courage. “In part.”
Her expression shifted from startled to relieved to curious. “I see.”
“Wouldn’t you like to hear what else I was thinking?” he inquired.
Her small jaw set. “First I’d like the apology.”
Trenton drank her in, head to toe. “I was reflecting on how intoxicatingly lovely you are.” He leaned his head back, his voice deep and rich, his gaze seductive, as hot and explicit as an intimate caress.
For a moment, Ariana’s face registered indecision. Then she shook her head adamantly. “No!” she burst out, refusing him … and herself. “You treated me inexcusably! You humiliated me in front of your brother and made me feel like a harlot!” She turned her back, unable to bear seeing the derisive censure in his eyes. “Last night … well, you led me to believe my responses were acceptable, even enjoyable.” Her voice grew small. “Why didn’t you tell me that my wanton behavior angered you?”
Trenton’s jaw dropped. “You thought I was angry because—”
“Let’s not play games, Trenton,” she returned, whirling about to face him, twin spots of red staining her cheeks. “I cannot be like Vanessa. It just isn’t possible. But I didn’t to please you. So if I was too bold … too vocal … why didn’t you tell me? Not in public, but when we were alone?” Despite her shame, she pushed on, candid and direct. “After all, I don’t know how a wife should behave. I have no means of comparison. The only way I—”
“Come here.”
Trenton’s husky command cut into her tirade.
“What?”
“I said, come here.” He extended his hand, caught her fingers in his and drew her closer until the fabric of her nightgown brushed his knees. Releasing her fingers, he cupped her hips and, in one gesture, tugged her down until she was straddling his lap.
“Trenton …” She sounded more puzzled and breathless than angry, and Trenton smiled.
“What?” He glided his fingers up the contours of her torso, then framed her face with his hands. “I’m driven by demons, misty angel,” he murmured, caressing her cheek with his thumb, giving her the repentance she deserved. “Demons I cannot control. I allowed them to strike out at you, and for that I profoundly apologize.” He brought her mouth down to his. “Do you forgive me?”
She nodded, unable to speak.
“As for last night,” he muttered thickly, molding her lips to his and tangling his hands in her hair to keep her from pulling away, “you didn’t just please me. You set me on fire, burned me to ashes, re-ignited the embers.” He kissed her deeply, thoroughly. “You aroused me in a way I thought was impossible, seduced me with every innocent touch of your hands, your breath, your mouth.”
Catching her tiny whimper, he pulled her closer still. “Do you have any idea how exciting I found your responses? What your soft moans, your breathless pleas for more did to my control?” He rotated his hips slowly, letting her feel the full force of his arousal. “Can you possibly imagine how much I want to be inside you?” he rasped, pressing insistently into the cradle of her thighs, the heat of his body burning through her. “Can you, misty angel?” He didn’t wait for an answer but slid his hands beneath the pristine cotton of her nightgown, up along the silky softness of her legs.
“Oh … Trenton …” She sagged against him, shivering uncontrollably at his words, his touch.
“You make me tremble too,” he whispered against her parted lips, gliding his shaking hands higher along her inner thighs, dragging the flimsy gown up with them.
With graceful abandon, Ariana arched her back, instinctively inviting him to take more of her.
Trenton’s expert fingers found the warm haven they sought, delving hungrily into the glorious wetness that told him of her avid response.
And suddenly, everything converged inside him at once, splintering his control into fragments of nothingness.
“Ariana …” he choked out frantically, urgent in a way he could explain no more than he could understand. “I’ve got to have you … now.” He raised her up, simultaneously reaching for the buttons of his trousers.
Ariana clutched at Trenton’s arms, trembling violently. Confused and overwhelmed, she stared down at him, shocked by his frenzy … and her own. Immobilized, she watched her husband work desperately to free himself so they could be one.
“I have to fill you,” he panted, pausing only to ease a finger inside her, gently testing her readiness. “I have to.”
With a whimper of longing, Ariana tugged free, ready to bolt the short distance to the bed.
“No.” Trenton’s hands closed on her hips in a vicelike grip, and he shook his head wildly.
