His Perfect Game

by Jenn Langston

  Desire flooded his body, casting every other thought from his mind. Her soft moan was the sweetest sound he had ever heard. Running his hands along the side of her body, he cupped one breast. The protective fabric of her riding habit irritated him. Using one hand, he lifted up a little to unfasten the buttons of her jacket.

  He only managed to unbutton two before she pushed on his chest. In her eyes, he saw passion but also fear. Cursing himself, he climbed off of her, sat back, and tried to slow his breathing.

  The open buttons exposed a white shirt, nothing else. However, she quickly fastened them as she stood. He got to his feet as well and allowed his eyes to trail the length of her body. Still overcome with need for her, he appreciated the way her riding habit clung to her frame so perfectly.

  “You look especially lovely today.” Although he intended to adopt his normal emotionless tone, he cringed hearing his desperation for her showing through.

  “Thank you.” Her face reddened as she straightened her glasses. “Madam Debot is talented, although her styles are not as modest as I would like.”

  Images of those designs he selected for her paraded through his mind. He found himself practically salivating to see her wearing them. One benefit to her family coming would be his ability to see her in the new clothes as opposed to her old garments or the maid’s clothing she usually adopted.

  Taking her arm, he escorted her along the bank. She didn’t say anything about what had just occurred between them, and he refused to apologize for it. Soon he would take things much further and he would not be sorry then either. She was his wife, and he had every right to her.

  Unfortunately, later that night the knowledge didn’t help him. Pacing his bedchamber, he worried over how to proceed. Without realizing the impact on him, his wife could kiss him with such a passion he would lose himself and then pull away from him as if nothing happened.

  Although he knew the only way to end the confusion between them was to join her in her bed, he could not stop the guilt. He felt like the ass he knew she believed him to be. All day he was set on this course of action, but now, as he pictured her huddled in her bed, terrified, he wasn’t sure he could go through with it.

  A knock at the door startled him, stopping his frantic pacing. There could be only one person coming to him at this hour, but he saw no reason why. Opening the door, he was disappointed to see Abigail, not his wife, waiting in the hallway. She came to him, but not as herself.

  “May I come in?” she asked sweetly.

  Part of him wanted to tell her no, that he was about to join his wife in her bed, but the uncertainty and fear in her eyes stopped him. Perhaps this was easier for her. Without a word, he opened the door wider, allowing her entrance.

  Crossing his arms, he leaned back against the closed door. If she intended to go against his plan and act as the bold, brazen woman, he would let her. He only hoped she’d come prepared to take the lead.

  “What can I help you with?”

  She stood in the middle of the room, wringing her hands. Judging by her blank stare, she had not planned past this point. Or had she expected him to rush her into bed to get this over with? If that was her goal, she was dead wrong. He intended to savor her all night long.

  “I . . . um, didn’t see you today, so I came to visit.”

  “I see. Well, typically I don’t entertain visitors in my bedchamber, especially at such a late hour.”

  She bit her lip. His heart ached to see her struggle, but he felt too angry with her to alleviate her discomfort. Why would she not accept him as her husband? As wife or maid, he had no intention of treating her any differently in bed. The urge to shake her and make her love him was strong.

  His breathing stopped as the word reverberated through his mind. Why would he want her to love him? He didn’t love her. How could he love a woman who refused to give him even a little bit of herself? This thinking made him believe he should have escaped to London when he had the chance.

  “I didn’t intend for this to be a social call.”

  Abigail’s blood pumped wildly. Only moments before, appearing as a maid in his bedchamber seemed to be the perfect solution, but now she felt unsure. Greyson remained leaning against the door, waiting, as if he expected her to state her business and leave.

  She debated coming up with an excuse and returning to her room. Had she misread his interest so greatly? Thinking back, she realized his interactions with her as a maid had been initiated by her or in direct response to her actions. Embarrassment flooded her, dropping her gaze to the floor.

  “What did you intend this to be, if not social?”

  “You have a point. It’s much too late for me to be here. I should wait for the morning to express my concerns.” She took a step toward the door, but he didn’t move aside.

  “Do you honestly believe you can come in here dressed like that”—his hand swept over her dressing gown—“then leave without an explanation?”

  “No.” She hung her head, regretting her decision more so now.

  “What do you want?” His low voice sent shivers through her.

  She wanted to admit why she was there, but knew it would not go over well. Truthfully, she only came to offer herself as a sacrifice in a way. As Lady Merrick she wasn’t ready to handle the repercussions of a night with him. Once it began, she feared she would never be left alone.

  “I only wanted to tell you that Mrs. Coushings has requested I work in the house in preparation for your guests.” She paused seeing anger flash across his face, so she quickly added, “Which I’m more than happy to do. I just wanted you to know Joshua would no longer have help.”

  Her excuse sounded too flimsy, and she never meant to anger him. Did he believe she came to him in an attempt to be excused from working? Her head ached. She wanted to go back to her room quickly so her threatening tears would not add to her humiliation.

  “I don’t believe that is why you came here tonight.” He pushed from the door and sauntered forward. “I have a few theories, and that one does not even come close.”

  “Whatever your theories are, they are wrong. Please excuse me.”

  She tried to duck around him, but he caught her arm. His free hand trailed down her face to brush her hair from her neck. As he moved in closer, she held her breath. He dragged his lips across her neck, leaving sweet kisses as he moved. Her body trembled.

  With his mouth, he pushed her dressing gown aside as his fingers moved to the top of her nightdress. She gasped, surprised when his lips touched her bare shoulder. Her breathing returned but as strangled gasps when his tongue slid along her skin. She wanted the act to end quickly, but not this. Never this. His touch seared her, making her desperate for more.

  Before she realized what he was about, her robe fell from her shoulders. Refusing to be the only one at a disadvantage, she gripped the ends of his dressing gown and parted the fabric. His hands stopped her when she exposed a small portion of his chest.

  “Not so fast,” he chided.

  Resenting the injustice, she stepped back and put her hands on her hips. “Why not?”

  His face held amusement as he cupped her cheek. She wanted to pull away and keep her anger, but she rarely saw such a happy emotion shining from his eyes.

  “The difference, my dear, is that I’m not wearing anything beneath this.”

  Her mouth formed a circle, but the sound didn’t make it from her throat. Thinking of him completely unclothed made her body hum in anticipation. The last time she saw him so, he’d been lifelessly lying in his sick bed. In addition, it had been dark on their wedding night, by her design, so she welcomed the candles and moonlight streaming in tonight. She wanted to see him.

  She was about to suggest they both undress, but he silenced her with a kiss. His mouth ensnared her as he drew her tightly against him. When the part of him jutting forward so stiffly touched her, fear made her tremble. Memories from their wedding night assailed her. Realizing she’d made a mistake, she eased away from
him. She couldn’t do this.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I thought I could do this, but I can’t.”

  “You’ve had a bad experience,” he stated with certainty. “Don’t let that encounter affect tonight. Your previous lover was a selfish ass.”

  “How can you know that?” She wondered what he would say if he knew he spoke of himself.

  “I see the truth in your eyes, and I feel it in your hesitation. I’ll make this up to you. Tonight you shall experience such pleasure it will be as if that other night never existed. Please allow me.”

  His words took on two meanings, and she felt as though he apologized for that night. He could not possibly realize that, but she pretended it was true. She needed to make it through the night one way or another. Although she knew no pleasure existed for a woman during the act, she’d passed the point of being able to leave.

  She hesitantly nodded. “You give yourself quite a challenge.”

  Without another word, he swept her up into his arms and deposited her in his bed. When he climbed on top of her, his lips devoured her. She met him eagerly, comfortable in the familiarity of his kiss. As his hand found her breast, he moved his mouth lower, unbuttoning her nightgown as he went. Lost in sensation, she squirmed beneath him.

  Panic overwhelmed her as she felt his warm breath against her naked flesh. She tried to sit, to stop this, but he captured her sensitive nipple in his mouth. She cried out, entwining her hands through his hair, holding him against her. Shots of fire scalded her as they passed through her body all gathering in her most private area.

  She grew frantic for something more. When his hand glided along her body and touched her center, relief washed away her shock. Without conscious thought, she widened her legs. As Greyson slid his finger into her, she moaned. How could such pleasure be possible?

  Heat flooded her body, driving her mad. She tugged at his dressing gown and her head thrashed wildly on the bed. Her desperation didn’t seem to faze him, as he simply continued to send her deeper into madness.

  Then she screamed as bright lights exploded before her eyes. Much to her surprise, white-hot pleasure snaked through her, calming her frantic need and leaving her body languid. The flames continued to lick at her as her husband withdrew his finger and smiled. He actually smiled.

  Her breath caught at his pure joy. She’d never witnessed a more beautiful sight. Putting her hands on either side of his face, she drew him down and kissed him. Overwhelmed with love, she just knew she would burst. Surely it wasn’t good for a person to achieve such happiness.

  Greyson drew back from her only long enough to slip her gown over her head and discard his own clothing. When he positioned himself back on top her, she gasped at the incredible sensation of his naked flesh against her bare skin. His lips sought hers as his engorged member nudged her.

  Fear twisted its way through her haze of love. Her body stiffened, and she tried to move away from him, but he wouldn’t let her. He shifted his gaze to her eyes. Surprised, she discovered she trusted him.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” he promised, his voice strained.

  He moved himself inside her slowly while keeping his eyes fastened to hers. Although the sensation felt unusual, he was right. It didn’t hurt. When he filled her fully, she moaned. She felt whole. Complete.

  She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t move. All she could manage was to remain still and stare into his beloved face. Worry creased his face, and she wondered at it. Never in her life had she imagined the act between a man and a woman could be tolerable.

  “Are you all right?” he rasped.

  To answer him, she wrapped her legs around him and pressed her hips upward, thrilled the motion didn’t bring discomfort. A strangled moan escaped his lips as he moved inside of her and set the rhythm. She matched his pace as her own need built up again. They moved in unison, both seeking the fire.

  She exulted when pleasure hit her, the feeling more powerful this time as she seemed to feed off his pleasure. Her heart hammered in her chest. When he called out his release, her satisfaction only intensified.

  The pleasure she achieved astonished. She hadn’t anticipated enjoying herself in her husband’s bed. She wanted to hold him there forever. Surely this could not be a normal occurrence. Could her love for him make such a difference? Slowly the burning embers fizzled out, but neither one of them moved.

  When he rolled off of her, they remained on their backs with the sound of their breathing in the air. As the newness faded away, the silence began to feel awkward. Since she only had one prior experience, she wasn’t sure what happened next.

  On their wedding night, Greyson left immediately, but as they were in his bedchamber, there was nowhere for him to go. Realizing the time arrived for her to leave, she pulled herself up. Unable to stop herself, she turned back to see his intense eyes studying her.

  Her gaze trailed down the length of his naked body. When she reached his member, she gasped. It was larger than she recalled. Resisting the urge to learn more about the part of him that gave her so much pleasure, she forced herself to look away. Surely he would not appreciate her staring at him.

  Suddenly self-conscious about her unclothed state, she scooted to the edge of the bed.

  “Leaving so soon?” he asked with amusement.

  “Yes.” She collected her dressing gown and wrapped it around her shoulders. “I must get back to my quarters before I’m missed.”

  She could remain with him if she chose, but an overwhelming need to escape engulfed her. Although an irrational thought, it just occurred to her that her husband had slept with another woman, with his wife in the next room, no less. She had initiated it, but he didn’t stop her.

  “Surely your absence will not be noticed so soon.” He climbed out of the bed and walked over to her, obviously uncaring about his nudity. “Another hour will not make a difference.”

  His perfectly sculpted body and beckoning eyes tore at her resolve. He didn’t know who she was, but she still loved him. When he reached his hand out toward her, she could not deny him, nor could she deny the unexpected pleasure she achieved in his arms.

  She took his hand and allowed him to lead her back to the bed. Thinking could wait for tomorrow. Tonight was the time for feeling and enjoying being with the man she loved.

  Chapter 17

  Greyson sat in the breakfast room, amazed by the overwhelming joy surrounding him, his outlook on life dramatically altered. The ability to smile, which had eluded him before now, was a compulsion he could not rid himself of. He felt like a fool, smiling down at a scone, but he could not help himself.

  Memories from last night flashed through his mind. Fixing his gaze out the window, Greyson sighed. He didn’t see the beautiful images before him. Instead he saw the sight of his wife’s face as she lost herself in ecstasy.

  Abigail was everything he dreamed about in a woman. He could hardly believe the happiness she brought him. Although last night had not brought about the end of the confusion between them as he’d hoped, he didn’t regret it. When she escaped from his bed early this morning, she paused at the door. He got the impression she wanted to tell him something, but did not.

  Recalling that moment made him smile. Had she been about to tell him she was actually his wife? He hoped so. After their incredible experience, he couldn’t imagine she would want to deny the pleasures she could have every night as his wife.

  Hearing shuffling in the next room, he turned as the woman of his thoughts entered. She looked delectable wearing a green muslin gown offering an impressive display of breasts. The dress hugged her perfect curves, making it very clear she wore no armor underneath. If only he could get her to remove those glasses and forgo the hair powder.

  “Good morning, my lord.” Her stiff voice betrayed nothing of their encounter last night.

  “Good morning. You look exceptionally lovely today.”

  Her eyes narrowed, then quickly turned to the sidebar. He wondered how this c
ould be the same person who had left his bedchamber only hours before with the glow of pleasure tinting her cheeks. Then he realized it was not. She didn’t intend to tell him the truth.

  Anger dissolved his enjoyment of the day as he watched her fill her plate and take her seat. She appeared to be intentionally ignoring him, but he refused to be treated thus.

  “Did you sleep well?” he asked, arching a brow.

  She dropped her fork, color rising high on her cheeks. “Not particularly, you?”

  He bit back a grin as she squeaked out that last word. “I can’t complain.”

  “How wonderful for you.” She turned back to her breakfast, but didn’t eat. Instead, she spread the contents of the plate around as if searching for a lost earring.

  As he watched her, she squirmed in her seat, restless. When she tugged at her dress, trying to inch the top higher, he wanted to laugh. As if she could hide her body from him. Last night he’d seen every glorious inch, and he would not forget it.

  “Is there something in particular you want?” she demanded when the silence stretched.

  It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her exactly what he wanted, but stopped himself. If she wanted to play the part of outraged wife, he would let her, for now. But these games grew tiresome, and he was quickly losing his taste for the charade altogether.

  “You’ll have to be more specific. There are many things I want.”

  “Why are you staring at me?”

  “Have you neglected to check your reflection this morning? I believe the better question would be, How can I stop looking at you?”

  Her face tinted red, but his words only seemed to anger her. He wondered why wives didn’t come with instructions. She wanted too many conflicting things from him, forcing his choice to be wrong no matter what he did.

  “Please excuse me, my lord. I have duties to attend to today.”