Wiping the remnants of her tears with the back of her hands, she coughed into her fist. “I’m sorry…” Her voice cracked.
“You’ve nothing to be sorry for.” His footsteps on the carpet and the warmth of his body indicated that he stood immediately behind her. Yet, he did not touch her. Another shaft of gloom pierced her heart.
“I shouldn’t have led you to believe…Well, I’m just…sorry, Prescott.”
“You haven’t done anything wrong, Edwina. I’m the one who’s to be blamed. I shouldn’t have pressed you when obviously you weren’t ready.”
“Ready?” A hysterical giggle burst from her lips. “I don’t know if it’s possible to be any less ready than I am.”
He stepped closer and she could smell the musk scent he wore.
Garnering her courage, she swallowed, deciding that she might as well get it over with. Slowly she turned.
His face twisted with concern. “Oh, Edwina.” Then he reached for her, pulling her into his arms and hugging her close.
“That bad, eh?” she attempted to make light. Lord this felt so very, very good. Pressing her ear to his chest, she listened to the strong beat of his heart, savoring this moment, for she knew that it would too soon dissolve into mist.
“I feel terrible for causing you such distress,” he murmured. “Your devotion to your husband is admirable.”
She blinked, her lashes grazing his woolen coat. “Wh-what?”
“I should never have endeavored to tempt you into besmirching the memory of your beloved husband. Obviously your feelings are still strong. He was a…very fortunate man.”
Pulling back, she stared up at his face. “You think that”—she waved a hand at her blotchy face—“this is because I’m sad about my late husband?”
“I know you loved him dearly, and obviously even thinking about being with me upsets you very much. You are a woman of deep sensibilities, Edwina, and I couldn’t admire you more for it.”
“Oh, dear.” Now she really felt pathetic. But she couldn’t hide behind the façade of grieving widow; it simply wasn’t her style to be so insincere, even if it would salvage her dignity as nothing else could.
Disentangling from his embrace, she stepped over to the bed, pulled out an icy pink dressing gown from the pile and put it on. She tied the wrap around her waist a bit too tightly, but left it knotted anyway, as a penance of sorts, she supposed.
Clasping her hands before her, she faced him once more. “I’m not upset about my late husband, Prescott.”
“You’re not?”
She sighed. “I suppose…what it all boils down to…is that I’m a novice at this passion business.” She motioned to the room. “I’m a mess. I don’t know how to be…enticing. I’m no worldly widow and I hate…well…” Her cheeks flamed. “I hate feeling so incompetent, especially when you are used to dealing with ladies who are so much more…sophisticated than I.”
He stepped forward. “So this has nothing to do with your deceased husband?”
“No.”
“It would be perfectly natural to feel a sense of…disloyalty.”
Pursing her lips, she shook her head. “None.”
A hopeful gleam filled his emerald gaze. “That by being with me you might be tarnishing his memory?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“That you couldn’t help but compare…?”
“Well, I suppose that it’s impossible to avoid making comparisons.”
His face fell.
She hid her smile. “But you fare much better than Sir Geoffrey in that regard.”
Looking up, his gaze was doubtful. “Really?”
“By far. I’ll venture it’s like comparing…burned toast to a hot scone with melted butter, fresh strawberry preserves and a sizzling piece of bacon on the side.”
“I wouldn’t happen to be the scone, by any chance?”
“Oh, yes.” She smiled. “Steaming hot.”
“Now, a worldlier widow might have mentioned sausage instead of bacon.”
Still smiling, she smacked her hand to her head. “Yet another ineptitude!”
She was rewarded with one of his heart-melting smiles that made her feel as if she were bathed in warm radiance.
Stepping over, he grabbed her hands and wrapped them behind her back, making her arch up at him. “I’m here, Edwina, because I want you. These…ineptitudes as you call them, are trivial.”
“You caught me crying into my bed hangings for heaven’s sake. Not exactly the most effective means of seducing you.”
“It’s certainly unique…”
“And in my drawers no less! Certainly not what one wears for a seduction.”
“On that count, I have to agree. But you remedied that lapse.”
“By putting on my pink dressing gown?”
“No, silly. By putting on your fresh smile. It’s the only attire needed for a proper seduction.”
Then his lips pressed down to hers, telling her with actions instead of words that Prescott Devane didn’t give a bloody damn about her attire, her messy room, her mussed hair, her blotchy face or even her bright red nose.
Chapter 23
After kicking off his shoes and ripping off his coat, waistcoat and shirt, Prescott kissed Edwina so thoroughly her head spun. Her hands explored the glorious planes of his back, and she sighed blissfully.
His kiss was so inspiring she felt as if she were elevated to a higher plane, until she realized that Prescott had lifted her off the floor and carried her over to the bed.
Hugging her close, he reached down and swept the clothing off the bed. Then he laid Edwina down, covering her body with his hard, lean form. He pressed himself deeply between her legs, claiming her neck with hot, wet, open-mouth kisses that left her panting.
“You smell so good,” he murmured as he laved her neck.
His mouth moved lower, circling the heated flesh of her chest with his tongue, then dipping down to the muslin frill edging of her chemise. Pushing down the thin fabric, his mouth enveloped her bare breast, claiming the nipple and sucking gently.
Edwina’s back arched. “Oh, oh…God…”
“No, it’s only me,” he murmured, smiling up at her. Then he drew her into his mouth once more.
Her eyes closed as her body thrummed with an overpowering sense of need building inside of her. No one had ever touched her this way, as if drawing forth her passion with a conjurer’s hand…and mouth…and hard, glorious body….
Her hips moved of their own volition, pressing against his broad chest, wanting him inside of her.
Reaching down to the leg of her drawers, Prescott’s hand teasingly caressed her ankle, then inched higher, untying the ribbon of the loose garments. He thrust his hand inside the knitted silk, grazing her calf with his titillating touch, then moved higher.
Edwina held her breath as his hand traveled steadily up to her knee, then thigh, grazing the fine hairs so that they stood on end. Her womanhood convulsed with desire.
“I need to touch you,” he said, his voice a guttural growl.
Pulling his hand out from under the fabric leg, he moved to the slit between her thighs and through the seam.
His fingers slipped between the moist folds of her womanhood, teasing her flesh with a touch that seared her to her core. Her eyes flew open, then slammed closed. Clutching the mattress, she was lost to the sensation of his fingers teasing, enticing, arousing her to a state where there was nothing but the feel of him touching her.
As his deft fingers rubbed the hard nub between her thighs, heat surged, her body thrummed and she was frantic with a need she’d never felt before. She wanted him to fill her. Now!
“Prescott…” She was panting, moving against him with an urgency she hadn’t known was possible.
Stopping, he looked up, his smile wide, white and wicked. “Yes, darling?”
“Please!”
“Your wish is my command, my lady.”
He reached beneath her back and nimb
ly undid the laced tie at her waist. Slipping the drawers down, he kissed her bare hip, her thigh, her calf and her ankle, then moved up to her inner thigh once more, planting a moist hot kiss.
“Wh-what…?” Alarm caused her to sit up.
“Relax, Edwina. Trust me.”
After a moment, she lay back. Staring up at the white ceiling, she wondered what in heaven’s name he was up to down there.
His tongue teased along her inner thigh, raising every hair on her body and causing a new wave of heat in her core. Her legs widened giving him freer access. Then his mouth was on her, claiming her, suckling her innermost place.
It felt so good she wanted to scream, but she had no air.
His tongue delved inside of her, exploring, teasing, sucking. Her back arched and she flamed, every inch of her being consumed in a passionate inferno. She had no air, her heart was racing wildly, it was…
“Too much…” she panted.
Her world exploded. Her womanhood convulsed, heat rushed and she saw stars behind her closed lids.
With her heart still racing, the world slowly spun back into place. Breath filled her lungs once more and she shuddered. She swallowed, still overcome. Then she opened her eyes.
Prescott lay beside her, resting prone on his elbow. His auburn hair was tousled, his lush lips smiling, his golden cheeks flushed and his emerald gaze simmering with dark passion. His chest was a creamy plane of undulating muscle she longed to explore.
She reached for him, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders and pulling him toward her as she slid closer to him. Her breasts rubbed against his hard nipples causing such arousal, a deep moan escaped from her lips.
She kissed him, tasting her ardor mixed with his own delicious flavor, savoring him the way he had savored her.
He hesitated, keeping himself up on his elbow, but she hugged him close and pulled him down, demanding that his body lie prone along hers, so close that every part of her felt blanketed by his hard, lean form.
Her tongue delved into his mouth, exploring, teasing, sucking him.
Slowly, he relaxed, kissing her back, grinding his hips into hers so that through his breeches his stiff manhood pressed into the soft flesh between her thighs, reviving the incredible pleasure of just moments ago.
Edwina rocked beneath him, lost to the sensation of his hard member stroking her core, her legs wide-open, her eyes closed shut, his mouth and body arousing her, making her feel as if she’d been asleep her entire lifetime until this night.
“God, you’re magnificent,” he muttered, breathing hard.
She opened her eyes and met his dark gaze, bereft of words. She so desperately wanted him, wanted him to feel as good as he’d made her feel.
Prescott watched Edwina’s face as he slid up, gliding his stiff manhood against her.
She closed her eyes and moaned, rolling her head to the side. “I want you inside of me…”
Thank heavens, because he didn’t know if he could last much longer.
Prescott had been with many women, women who knew how to bring a man to the heights of pleasure. But nothing he’d ever experienced had prepared him for the fiery pitch of Edwina’s desire. Each groan came from deep within her, shaking him to his core, making his shaft thicken and throb with yearning to plunge deep inside her. Each hitch of her breath signaled a new level of pleasure, a delightful new experience of learning all that her body was capable of. She had the most astonishing capacity for passion. And he was ready to explore it to the hilt.
Rolling over, Prescott unbuttoned his breeches and pulled off his smallclothes. Then he turned to face her once more.
She was glorious, with her wild ebony tresses, her onyx eyes shimmering dark with passion, her porcelain skin flushed pink and her cherry red lips swollen from his kisses. One lush pink breast still spilled out from the top of her chemise and from the waist down she was exposed for his full perusal. Her arched waist fanned out at the hips, giving a perfect frame to a triangle of dark, soft curls. Her curvaceous legs lay open, spread before him as if ready for the taking.
She lifted herself up on one elbow. Her gaze fixed on his shaft and her eyes widened with wonder.
“Have you never…?”
Slowly she shook her head. “The candles were always snuffed…” Her tongue slipped out of her mouth and licked the corner of her lip. His rod jumped.
Leaning forward, she rose up on bare knees. “May I touch you?”
He swallowed, wordlessly nodding.
Hesitantly, her hand reached out, her fingers gently grazing the head.
He gripped the coverlet, hanging on to his control, but just barely.
“It’s so smooth…” Her fingers skimmed down his shaft, burning him with her touch. “And warm.”
Not since he was fourteen had he precipitately spilled his seed, but he was coming damned close.
“Edwina,” he gasped. “I can’t wait much longer.”
Her eyes widened some more. “Oh, sorry.”
“Stop apologizing.”
He grabbed her then, laying her back on the bed and settling between her legs.
She giggled, then laughed, throwing her arms around him and kissing him with a passion that tossed all thought from his mind, except for being inside of her.
Reaching down, he fingered her curls and she gasped, opening her legs wider.
God, she was wet.
Bracing himself, he plunged deep, burying himself to the hilt. Then he froze for fear of losing control.
“Are you all right?” Edwina whispered, afraid that he was hurt in some way. His face was contorted as if he were in terrible pain. She, on the other hand, felt full, stretched, but the sensation was growing on her by the second. In fact, it was becoming quite…fantastic. Biting her lip, she withheld a groan.
“I’m…fine,” he bit out, his eyes still closed. Then he began to move, sliding his shaft out and then plunging back in, deeper each time. Riding her, carrying her…
“Oh…oh…my.” She closed her eyes, lost.
The world became a dark, glorious place of stars and heat and joyous sensation. Edwina’s body bucked as her womanhood gripped him inside her.
He pounded into her, faster, harder.
Prescott cried out, and her insides thrilled. Clutching him for dear life, Edwina screamed as her womanhood convulsed around him.
He collapsed on top of her, his breath coming hard and warming her neck. They were both out of breath, their bodies slick with sweat, their heartbeats clamoring against each other.
Realizing that she was still gripping him so tightly her fingers were curled into his skin, she quickly released him, exhaling a long, shuddering breath.
After what felt like an eternity, she opened her eyes.
His skin glowed golden in the candlelight as she traced his round shoulder, relishing the velvety feel beneath her fingertips.
Prescott Devane was a man among men.
She supposed it would take such a man, a man of great experience with women, to draw her passion so memorably. She tried not to think about the many, many, many women he’d probably bedded…
Stop it, Edwina. Don’t ruin it. Have the grace to accept this wonderful moment for what it is: special.
To her, at least. And she would savor the memory forever.
Her hands traveled to his back and down, delighting in the sensation of touching him. His smooth skin, the hard curves of his muscle, the bone beneath.
“You feel so good.” Sighing, she hugged him close.
After a moment, he leaned up on one elbow and looked down at her, his face relaxed, happy. “You’re lovely, Edwina.”
She bit her lip. “I hope…well, I hope I did everything to your, ah…satisfaction.”
His brow furrowed, and slowly, he disengaged from her, sitting up and pulling the sheet about his waist. She felt bereft, and a bit embarrassed as she grabbed her pink wrapper from the floor, donned it and sat across from him.
The silence grew thick.<
br />
Running his hand through his coppery mane, Prescott exhaled. “We don’t need to talk about it now, not if you don’t want to…”
She shrugged, repeating what he’d said in the gazebo, “Now is as good a time as any, I suppose.”
He scratched his chin. “Well, I’m just wondering. What the hell was wrong with your husband?”
She straightened. “Wh-what?”
“Was he ill?”
She shook her head.
“An invalid?”
She shook her head.
“Then how on earth could he have been married to you, for how long…?”
“Three years.” Tears of joy burned the back of her eyes.
“For three years and make you think that you ‘weren’t built for passion’? It’s boggling!”
Edwina smiled. Then she giggled. Then laughed so hard tears ran down her cheeks.
“Come here.” He pulled her into the circle of his arms and hugged her close. Inhaling the heady scents of musk and their desire, she sighed, feeling so very, very wonderful.
“Did he…” Prescott’s tone was tight. “Did he ever hurt you?”
“No. Sir Geoffrey was…a bit of a cold fish, I think. I didn’t realize it at the time. I didn’t know…well, anything about what went on between husband and wife. And well, I’d rather not talk about it, save to say, that it wasn’t a particularly enjoyable experience, for either of us.”
“So you weren’t ‘ardently devoted’ to him?”
She looked up at him. “Of course I was devoted to him, he was my husband.”
His brow knitted and then relaxed. “Your commitment is admirable. But I have to ask again, in all those years together, not once…”
“No. I never had an experience anything remotely like the one we just had.”
A satisfied gleam lit his eyes and he grinned like the cat who’d licked the cream.
“You don’t have to look so pleased with yourself, Prescott Devane!”
“For pleasuring you? What’s wrong with that?”
She smiled. “Nothing, I suppose. Especially since it’s in the name of science.”
Sari Robins - [Andersen Hall Orphanage] Page 19
