He lit the candle, turned toward her, and froze. But between the gathering moisture in her eyes and the brightness of the candlelight beside him, she could not make out his face.
"Oh my God, Ali, what is wrong?"
She should have told him to stop. But she had been too mortified, too shocked to think. In truth, she had blocked out why Phillip had turned away from her until John had lit the first candle.
He dropped to his knees and gathered her hands in his. "What is it? Have I done something to upset you?"
"No," she choked out. "It's not you."
"Then what is wrong, sweetheart?"
Through her tear-blurred eyes she looked around the room and shuddered. Why hadn't she thought about this? How had she allowed herself to forget the humiliation she had felt because of her husband's revulsion to the changes in her body?
Alison turned back to John and was nearly undone by the caring and anxiety she saw. And she knew why. He was different than Phillip. And she now knew that the changes in her body were normal. Natural. Something every woman experienced after having a baby.
Nevertheless, Alison wasn't ready for John to see all of her. Not in the bright candlelight he had created. "Can... can you... would you..." Oh bloody hell. How did she ask him to put out the candles without sounding like a blushing virgin on her wedding night?
"Alison, if you are having second thoughts about this, it is alright. I understand. I can wait, if that is what you want."
Oh dear God in heaven. He was willing to wait. She could see it in his eyes that he didn't want to. Hell, neither did she. But how did she explain her hesitation to him?
By being truthful with him. Taking a deep breath, she reached over and captured one of his hands. "John, I don't want to wait. That is not it at all. I want to make love to you." She looked up and felt a blush bloom despite herself. "I have wanted to for months now."
His head popped up and an endearing grin creased the edges of his mouth. "So have I," he said.
Alison looked up at the white plaster ceiling and took another deep breath. There was just no way around this. She just had to blurt it out and pray he didn't react the same way Phillip had. And if he did, it was better to discover it now than later.
Dropping her head, she fixed him with a steady gaze and took her courage in hand. "John, I've had two babies."
He nodded his head. "I know. Rebecca and Phyllis. I believe I've met them a time or two."
Stupidly she nodded and swallowed through the dryness in her throat. "It changed... my..." She just couldn't say it. So she circled her free hand over the area of her stomach and shrugged her shoulders.
His brow crinkled as he followed the movement. Then he slowly raised his eyes to hers. A puzzled look wrinkled his brow. "Sweetheart, what are you trying to tell me?"
Her heart plummeted, and frustration choked out another tear. "John, I've had two babies. And my stomach isn't... I have..."
Light seemed to come into his eyes as he began blinking rapidly. "Ali, are you trying to tell me you have stretch marks?"
She nodded and choked back yet another tear.
"Oh sweetheart, darling, I know I said I haven't had much experience. But I have been with other women. Widows." His face softened. "Women who have born children. One had five children. And they all bore the signs of those happy occurrences."
She startled and looked at him. When Phillip had first turned away from her because of the unsightly marks, she had not known what to think. But, over the years, she had learned that many women did in fact bear those same signs of pregnancy. And in her heart, she knew not all men were like her husband. Was John really not repulsed by the prospect of her scarred body?
"Then they don't bother you?" she asked, just to verify.
He smiled and placed his hand over her stomach. "Ali. Alison. You gave life to two beautiful girls. If you ever agree to marry me, then one day I hope you may carry our own child too. But whether you do or don't, I will love you just as you are."
If she hadn't already been in love with him, Alison was sure she would have fallen in love with him at that moment. She wavered, trying to come up with a reply that wouldn't sound contrived or silly. In the end, she just leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.
It was all the encouragement he needed. He allowed a couple of gentle kisses and then he deepened them, thrusting his tongue into her mouth to dance with hers. Then he rose up and pushed her backward.
Alison curled back onto the bed, her arms locked around his neck. Suddenly he broke the kiss and she moaned in protest. But only for a second, as his lips burned a path from her lips to her neck. One of his hands slid up her arm and over to her breast. He kneaded her breast with his strong hand, drawing a louder moan from her.
Her back arched off the bed as his lips trailed lower to her collarbone. A shudder coursed through her body, and she reached up to give him better access by unbuttoning more of her bodice, only to realize he had already undone all of them.
Her hand hovered in mid-air and then moved to the lapels of his coat. If he was going to undress her, then Alison wanted to fulfil one of her fantasies about this man. She wanted to unclothe him as well. It had been years since she had helped a man disrobe, and she intended to enjoy it.
Now conscious of what he was doing, she felt him loosen the top tie to her corset. As with the dress, Alison had chosen it for ease of removal rather than fashion. It was one of her older corsets, and not as nice as some of her other undergarments, but when she had put it on she had assumed she would be taking it off in private and not in front of him.
"It is one of my work corsets," she apologized. Its shabbiness made her feel inane and childish.
"It's lovely," he whispered, and leaned down to untie the next tie with his teeth.
Her heart fluttered and she felt her skin glow beneath his ministrations. A fullness in her breast she had not felt in years grew with each breath she took. Her nipples pebbled as they rubbed against the silk chemise she wore beneath her corset. At least she’d had the good sense to wear one of her prettier chemises.
Chapter 12
John was fighting hard to not allow his hatred of her dead husband to destroy what they were doing. Over the course of getting to know her daughters, he had figured out that the man had been an absentee father. And one who rarely, if ever, played or interacted with his own child. That alone would have been enough for him to despise the man.
He had held his thoughts in check, as the few times Alison had talked about him she had spoken of a man she had once loved. It hadn't taken much to figure out that something had changed over the course of their marriage.
She hadn't hated the man, but neither had she still been in love with him at the end. Now he thought he knew why. The man had apparently been a pompous, arrogant arse. One that had turned away from his wife because she bore the signs of childbirth.
Years ago, he met another man who had no longer wanted to have sex with his wife after she had given birth to their child. He’d thought the man an idiot, one that had disgusted him. And now he knew about another fool, a callous moron who made a beautiful woman hate her own body.
A part of him wished Alison’s late husband were still alive so he could kick his arse. But the rational part of him that could feel the beautiful woman beneath his hands was grateful he’d had the good sense to get himself killed on the battlefield.
Shoving all thoughts of the man aside, John concentrated on giving her pleasure. He worked more of the corset ties free and parted it to reveal the silk chemise beneath. It was nearly translucent, and he could see the dark areoles of her breast, the pert nipples pressing enticingly against the soft silk.
Drawn to the sight, he leaned down and captured one of them in his mouth. He felt her sudden intake of air as she arched off the bed and pressed the bud into his mouth. Suckling, he drew it into his mouth and bit down softly. A moan escaped her lips and her hand fisted in his hair, holding him tightly to her breast.
; John continued to suckle, lick, and bite, drawing it further and further into his mouth. Satisfied he had payed sufficient homage to that bud, he kissed the wet silk and slid over to begin anew on her other nipple.
Alison was going to lose her mind, if she hadn't already. She had dreamed about this for months, erotic fantasies she had conjured up about the man above her. Somewhere around the second or third week of John's recovery, she had become fascinated by his mouth. It had been one of the few parts of his body that had not sustained horrible damage during the beatings. And because of the bandages that covered his face, she had focused all of her attention on his lips when he spoke.
He had beautiful lips. Not the full seductive lips of her husband. No, John's were different. Sexier. Manlier. His upper lip was thin and bow shape.
John's lower lip was a bit fuller, but not by much. And he had an endearing cleft in the middle that had fascinated her. She had spent countless nights and days dreaming about kissing those lips. And about them doing just what they were doing to her right now.
Her breath caught, and a quiver raced down her body and pooled in her core. She wanted him to touch her there. No, Alison needed him to touch her there.
Pushing against his shoulder, she dislodged him from her breast and lamented the loss. His blinking eyes rose and collided with hers. A question hovered on his face, but he held silent as both of their hearts beat in tandem. Their chests rising and falling, pressing against one another.
"I want... I want..." she panted breathlessly. Finally, she gave up expressing herself verbally and just began shoving his coat off his shoulders.
His eyes immediately cleared and a seductive grin blossomed across his face. Without uttering another word, he rocked back and began peeling the coat down his arms.
"No," Alison blurted, and he arrested his undressing, a question once again on his face. "I want to...to undress you."
He grinned down at her and proffered his hand. "By all means. But fair is fair."
Her heart thudded against her chest. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as she slid off the bed with his help. They stood gazing into each other's eyes for an eternity. And then he broke the spell, stepping toward her and slowly peeling the sleeves of her dress off her shoulders.
Alison allowed the bodice to slip from her arms and the dress to pool at her feet. Then she pushed him backward. "My turn," she whispered. She could hear the husky, seductive quality to her voice and marveled at it. She had never thought to hear it from her lips again. But she had never believed she would want a man this way again.
His coat came off easily and slipped to the floor at his feet. Alison then turned her attention to his waistcoat. With trembling fingers, she worked to release the first of several buttons. His hand rose to help, and she batted it away.
"No," she said, and then glanced up at him. His brown eyes were black with desire and she felt her nipple pebble and begin to ache with wanting. "I've dreamed of doing this."
His arms fell to his sides and a tender look passed over his face. He seemed to understand that she needed to do this, and she was profoundly grateful for his silence.
Her fingers steadied, and she was able to undo the rest of the buttons easily. She pushed the waistcoat up and over his shoulders, then guided it down his arms and let it fall. It landed on top of his coat in a whisper of cloth.
"My turn," he said gently. Untying the last tie, he parted her corset and it slithered down her back, joining her dress on the floor.
"Not fair," she said. All she had on was her silk chemise and silk stockings, while he still had on his shirt, pantaloons, stockings, and shoes.
His laugh echoed off the walls and warmed her soul. "Judicial prudence compels me to offer you unfettered fairness in all things, madam." A bright smile lit his face as he extended his arms out to the side and offered her complete access.
Laughing, she rose up and brushed a quick kiss across his lips and felt him falter. But when she pulled back, he grinned down at her and just shook his head. "Madam?" he asked.
Emboldened, she went to work on the top buttons of his shirt. Once they were all free, she hesitated. Alison had seen this man completely naked, on more than one occasion. But he had been battered and bruised, black and blue, and covered in rolls of bandages. Now he was healthy. He still carried the scars of his torture, and always would. But she had not missed just how appealing his body had been to her the last time he had allowed her to change his bandages.
Now he was hale and fit. A powerful man that she desired. And suddenly she felt like a blushing bride on her wedding night. Her hands trembled once again as she lifted the shirt up and over his head. Once it joined the pile of clothes at his feet, he captured her hands and held them to his chest. The sinewy muscles quivered beneath her hand and she felt the pounding of his heart beneath her fingers.
"My turn?" he asked.
Unexpectedly shy, Alison glanced down and focused on his black shoes. Her own stocking feet peeked up at her, despite having no memory of taking her slippers off. "Shoes," she whispered.
She heard him laugh and then his finger was gently tugging her chin up. A tender smile graced his face, and her breasts throbbed with need.
He leaned down and kissed her forehead, then her nose, and finally brushed a lingering caress against her lips. His hand settled on her shoulders, and he rotated the two of them until his back was the one to the bed. He sat down and raised his right foot, cocking his head to the side and playfully arching his eyebrow in question.
Giggling, she quickly dropped to her knees and divested him of his shoes. By rote, she neatly set them under the bed and aligned them as she had once done with her husband's.
He then stood up and she quickly unbuttoned the placket to his pantaloons. He covered her hands as they both pushed the garment down until he could kick it toward the growing pile of clothes. Once he was naked, Alison took a step back and feasted on the scarred but beautiful body of the man in front of her.
His lips parted and the look in his eyes softened. Then she saw the same determined gleam come into his eyes that she had seen the last three months when he had insisted he squire her and her family around town. And suddenly she was afraid he was about to ask her to marry him.
Alison was sure she wanted to make love to him. She was positive she was in love with him. But she wasn't ready to commit to a marriage. Not yet. So, before he could ask her to marry him, she launched herself upward and drove him back onto the bed.
Splayed across the top of him, she began nibbling at his lips as he lay there, his lips slightly parted but unresponsive. She knew he wanted to talk. To probably ask her his questions. Questions she was not prepared to answer yet.
"John," she whispered against his lips.
He drew a breath, then whispered back, "Ali, I want to..."
She sealed his lips with hers. Alison could feel him wavering, and then he relented and began kissing her back. Their tongues met. Gently at first, and then more franticly. Eventually she came up for breath and gazed down at him. His face was contorted, his eyes boring into her soul.
"Please," she beseeched, "make love to me." Alison shook her head slightly. "I'm not yet... I don't want to... to talk right now. Please, just make love to me."
He searched her face, and then a gentle smile blossomed. His hand rose and cupped her face, and she turned into his palm, rubbing her cheek against his calloused flesh. Its roughness soothed and excited her.
"For as long as you want," he replied.
Her heart somersaulted in her chest, and liquid warmth spread in her core. Smiling seductively up at her, he grasped the hem of her chemise and began a slow, torturous slide up her body. The feel of silk slithering up her body was erotic. Sensual. Her breath hitched and her nipples ached.
Then his hands reached her straining breasts and the contrasts between his calloused hands and the sensual silk of her chemise sent a shudder through her. The muscles in her legs turned to jelly, and she collapsed backward a
s he ripped the chemise over her head.
Her uneasiness about her body returned, and she slid her hands down and covered her stomach. But before she could become self-conscious again, he whispered a single word that dispelled her anxiety.
"Beautiful."
He sent her chemise sailing over the edge of the bed before he rose and gathered her into his arms. His mouth fastened to hers, and his tongue drove inside to duel with hers. Alison locked her arms around his neck, her hand sifting through his luxurious thick hair.
Suddenly he shifted their bodies, and his lips blazed a trail down her neck as he flipped her over. Alison felt cocooned by the soft feather mattress beneath her and the hard body above her.
He suckled her neck, nibbling as he continued down. She felt the seductive pull of his lips as he alternately kissed, suckled, and nibbled his way to her breast. Alison arched off the bed as he circled her straining nipple. She wanted his lips there, but he kept teasing her. Driving her mad with wanting.
Unable to take any more of his torture, she grasped his head and pressed her engorged breast toward his mouth. He laughed. Or maybe he moaned. But his lips settled over her nipple.
He gently kissed her breast and her head fell back against the bed. Then he licked her distended nipple and her body went taut with longing. And, finally, he sucked the sensitive point of her breast into his mouth and began to suckle her as she had dreamed. Her body shuddered with sensation.
Minutes or aeons passed in a blinding ecstasy of feelings. She opened her eyes to find John’s handsome face above hers, his eyes burning for more. "Ali?"
She didn't need to ask what he was begging for. She knew because she needed it just as badly.
"Later," she huffed. "We. Can. Take. Our. Time. Next time."
With that, she spread her legs wide and gripped his hips. They fumbled in the tangle of sheets and the too soft mattress until he was positioned above her, his manhood pressing against the heat of her body.
Alison's Scandalous Affair (The Fallen Angels NOVELLA series Book 1) Page 10
