by Rose Gordon
Nodding to the butler and waving off his attempt to take his coat, Patrick mounted the stairs. It was time to find Juliet. He couldn’t wait another moment to see her.
Without a thought to what he might find on the other side, Patrick swung open the door to the room they shared.
“Juliet,” Patrick whispered. The image of his beautiful wife standing in the middle of the floor wearing nothing but a sheer red nightrail robbed him of his breath.
She took a few steps toward the bed, her beautiful globes bouncing with each step. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too,” in more ways than one. He pushed away the thought and clenched his fists. “How did you know I’d returned?”
“I didn’t.”
“You didn’t?” he breathed, his eyes focused on all the curves and contours of his wife’s delectable body.
“No,” she confirmed. She picked up a little scrap of fabric lying atop the counterpane. “I was just hoping you’d come.”
His mouth watered, and his heart picked up its pace. “And if I hadn’t?”
“Then, I’d have just had to wait for tomorrow night.”
His heart didn’t know whether to squeeze at her admission of waiting up all night for him again or crack at the knowledge she was presenting herself to him this way because she thought it was her duty to greet her returning husband thus. “What is your plan here, Juliet?”
She took the silken sash that had been resting on the bed and wrapped it around his neck. “Seduction.”
He groaned. She wasn’t going to have a very unwilling “ seductee” in a minute if she didn’t stop swaying her hips like that. “Why?”
“Why what?”
He clenched his fists tighter, and commanded them to stay in his pockets. If he brought them out, who knew what would happen. Even a week away from her in London had done nothing to curb his desire for her. He still wanted her. No, he craved her, hungered for her. And her sauntering around in a few strips of transparent silk was not helping him. “Why do you want to seduce me, Juliet?”
Her face turned a fetching pink. “Because I want to.”
Choking down his desire and forcing his thoughts away from her budded nipples that were dangerously close to his chest now, he said, “Do you feel forced?”
She stilled. “Forced?”
He nodded, too overcome with emotion to voice his fear that she felt forced or pressured to behave this way.
“No, Drake, I don’t feel forced.”
Patrick’s eyes searched hers, but he was unable to find the answers he was looking for. “All right, not forced, but pressured.”
“Pressured?” she asked, wrinkling her brow. “Why would I feel pressured?”
“Because I’m your husband.”
Juliet dropped her sash and put her fingers to work on the buttons of his coat and waistcoat. “No.” She pushed the two articles of clothing off his shoulders, and let them fall to the floor. Her fingers slipped the knot from his cravat and he closed his hand around her wrist to stop her before those wandering fingers of hers could remove anything else.
“Juliet, if you’re only doing this because you think I expect you to, don’t.”
“I’m not.” She lowered her lashes, and started to pull her hand from his hold.
Unsure how to interpret her response, he tightened his grasp and asked, “Then why are you?”
Her lower lip trembled and he used his free hand to tilt her chin up toward him. “Because I want to.”
“You want to?”
She broke eye contact with him and swallowed. “Yes. I want to.”
“Why?”
“Because I enjoy it,” she said with a blush.
“You what?” Surely he couldn’t have understood her right.
“I said, I enjoy it,” she whispered.
He blinked. “Every time?”
“Every time what?”
“Every time we’ve shared intimacies, have you enjoyed it?”
She bit her trembling lip, and nodded once.
“You’re sure?”
She nodded again.
“So there’s never been a time you haven’t wanted to share your body with me or wished I wouldn’t touch you?”
“Why are you making me shame myself this way, Drake?” she cried. “Do you want me to say it aloud? Fine, I will. I like having relations with you. I like it when you touch me, and kiss me, and for as shameful as it is, I find the most intense pleasure imaginable when we join.” Her face flushed crimson, and she pulled her hand from his now loose grasp then fled behind the dressing screen.
Heart pounding at the meaning of those unversed words, Patrick forced himself to follow her behind the screen. “Juliet―”
The sight of her red-rimmed eyes and tearstained cheeks stopped his words and his nearly-bursting heart at the same time. He’d never seen her cry before.
She blinked rapidly. “I―I need to go―”
He cut her off with a quick kiss. “You don’t need to do anything, but be here with me.”
She refused to meet his eyes, and her shaky hands fumbled to secure a heavier dressing gown. “No, I must―”
He kissed her again, this time with purpose and passion. He moved his hands to frame her face and hold her to him, granting him better access to her mouth. He pulled back, panting. “Juliet, I didn’t mean to shame you. I―” he swallowed convulsively― “I just didn’t believe what I was hearing, and I wanted to know I wasn’t mistaken.”
“Mistaken?”
He nodded. “I feared I’d pressed you to feign enjoyment, and I didn’t want that, Juliet. I want you to act like you enjoy it because you really do enjoy it, not because you think it’s what I want. Then when you implied you did enjoy my affections, I was stunned and needed to make sure I heard you right. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I―”
Now it was her turn to cut him off with a kiss. Her arms came up and looped around his neck. Not breaking their kiss, Patrick lowered his hands, clasped them around her waist, then picked her up and carried her straight to the bed.
Depositing her on top of the fluffy counterpane, Patrick continued Juliet’s quest to divest himself of everything down to his smalls then climbed onto the bed, and used his hands and knees to crawl up Juliet’s body until his lips were perfectly aligned on top of hers. He eased his body on top of hers and brought his head lower to brush his lips across hers. She sighed and he moved his right hand over to cup her breast. He squeezed that perfect globe, exerting more pressure when she arched beneath him, and pressed her breast more firmly into his hand. Bringing his lips back down to hers, he let his hand leave her breast to pull the chord wrapped around her waist that kept her robe on. Freeing the knot, he released the sash and pulled aside the fabric of her dressing robe to reveal that gauzy nightrail she had on beneath.
“Drake,” Juliet gasped against his mouth as his hand shaped her firm breast again.
He kissed her lips once more, then trailed a row of kisses from her mouth to her chin, then down her neck. She rolled her head back, granting him better access to the smooth column of her neck. He kissed and nipped right above her clavicle from one side to the other before closing his mouth around one gauze-covered, taut nipple. Sucking it into his mouth, he sucked and licked until she was writhing beneath him. He abandoned that peak, and sought the other. She sighed, and he increased the pressure of his lips on this nipple while his other hand came up to caress her recently freed breast, kneading and massaging the supple flesh until she was twisting in pleasure.
Relinquishing his hand’s hold on her breast, he reached up and grabbed the material that formed the V in the top of her nightrail. With a savage growl against her breast, he jerked his hand down, tearing the filmy fabric of her nightrail as he went. Reluctantly, his mouth released her hard nipple so his hands could push the offending fabric off her.
“You’re so beautiful,” he rasped. He moved down her body, dropping kisses as he went; kissing along the sl
ight curves at the bottom of her breasts then to the sensitive skin on the side of her breast just above her ribs. Finding a particularly sensitive spot, that made her writhe and buck, he moved his hand past her waist to tangle in the thatch of brown curls that covered her most intimate area. Patrick parted his lips and pressed open-mouthed kisses along the side of her ribs, getting ever closer to the spot just above her hip that always made her jump.
He pressed his lips into that sensitive dip above her hipbone, and used his teeth to scrape the skin, followed by his lips and tongue to sooth it.
She bucked and twisted her fingers into the counterpane. “Drake.”
“Hmm?” he said against her skin, not daring to take his mouth off her. He scraped and nipped her again.
She arched her back and her skin quivered. He loved having this effect on her. Taking advantage of her excitement and position, Patrick dropped his hand lower and ran one lone finger along, then in between, her silky folds. He moved his thumb to join the exploration, gently squeezing and massaging. Circling her opening twice more, Patrick slipped two fingers in. Her muscles clenched around him, and he groaned. Without hesitation, he found that familiar deep and swift rhythm she enjoyed. Kissing a trail back to her breasts, he changed the position of his hand and ground the heel of his palm against her swollen flesh while his fingers continued their steady pace.
“Drake,” she groaned in excitement, her hands coming up to settle against his head, clutching him to her breast.
“That’s it, Juliet, enjoy it.” His blood ran cold at his own words. How could he have ever doubted her enjoyment and been so cruel as to accuse her of such a thing? She wasn’t the type who would endure misery to please someone else, especially him. He pushed away the thought and resumed his earlier pace. A moment later, he brought his head close to her ear, tempted to whisper the words he’d never thought he’d ever say to a woman again.
A low, pleasure-induced cry accompanied by Juliet’s inner muscles convulsing stole his thoughts and attention. He slowed his movements, and brushed a kiss across her flushed forehead. A moment later, her eyes fluttered open and the tension left her body. “Were you―”
“Watching you? Yes,” he admitted. “There is no sight I enjoy more than seeing your face as you find pleasure.”
Her face might have blushed if it weren’t red already. Suddenly, her hands were between their bodies and blindly pushing down the waistband of his smalls.
He groaned and rolled off to the side and directed her hands to the drawstring. With a few quick flicks, she had the knot loosened and slipped her hand inside. He groaned again at the feel of her soft hand wrapping around him.
“You'd better not do that tonight,” he said hoarsely. She had this torturous knack for sending him close to the edge just by merely stroking him. Tonight he wasn’t sure he had enough control left in him for her games.
She slid her hand from the base to the tip, exerting more pressure every inch of the way. “What was that?” she asked, running the pad of her thumb along the sensitive ridge of the tip of his erection.
He sucked in his breath. “I said you’d better stop.”
“Or what?” She pushed at his shoulder, rolling him onto his back. She climbed on top of him, her hand still firmly in place on his shaft. She squeezed again, then ran her hand back down. Then up.
He shuddered. “Juliet―”
“Shh.” She leaned forward and planted her lips right on his.
Excited by her boldness, he responded to her kiss, matching her level of passion. He brought his hands up and dug them into her hair only to have her mouth leave his and scatter kisses along his jaw and down his neck, torturing him the same way he’d done her. Lower and lower, she went. Her fingers closed around the top edge of his drawers. He lifted his hips up off the bed, and she tugged his drawers down and off. Need and desire pounded through him.
She slowly came back up his body, dragging her fingertips along his skin as she went. His muscles jumped and his erection grew. Her fingertips skimmed his waist, and he sucked in a sharp breath. Her fingers stopped and she leaned forward, pressing her lips to his and her breasts against his chest. His hands itched to reach up and take hold of those perfect orbs, but he resisted. This was her game, her turn to drive him mad. And, oh, how she was succeeding. Far more than she realized, he was certain.
She broke their kiss, and brought her lips down to kiss his jaw. Turning to give her better access, he froze. Her lips were no longer on his skin, and her body was no longer pressed so wonderfully against his. His sweet wife was now sitting atop him, astride. Though she still wore that confounded dressing robe and torn-down-the-middle nightrail, he still had an excellent view of her exquisite body.
She held him captive as she rose up on her knees, then took hold of his rod and sank back down, taking his length inside of her. He groaned. He’d never experienced Juliet this way. He stilled, panic seizing him. There was a reason he’d never had Juliet this way.
He met her eyes. She liked this position as much as he did, and he’d be damned if he stopped everything now to put on a sheath. He’d just better be careful. He gripped her hips, and urged her up. She stayed planted. Wordlessly, she wrapped her slender fingers around his wrists and pulled his hands from her hips, then, pushed them back over his head. Her breasts so close to his mouth as she pushed his hands back, he couldn’t stop himself from leaning forward and sucking one hardened nipple into his mouth, circling it with his tongue before letting go.
She sat back up, and he obediently kept his arms in their invisible shackles. Rising on her knees until he was certain she’d almost gone too far, only to then sink back down over him with a swift, fluid motion, she delivered him another round of torture, then another.
She changed her position slightly, and they both sighed. Juliet leaned forward and braced her arms on his shoulders, then rocked her hips again. This time, her pattern wasn’t slow and torturous, it was quick and torturous. He moved his hips to match, to give her that extra bit she wasn’t able to find on her own. Her nails bit into his shoulders.
“That’s it, Juliet,” he coaxed.
Unable to play her game any longer, Patrick broke free from the imaginary shackles she’d put him in and brought his hands to her breasts. He cupped and shaped, squeezed and caressed those lovely mounds, taking pleasure every time one of his probing fingers grazed her nipple and her breath hitched. He brushed his thumbs over her nipples, both at the same time.
She bit her lip, the color heightening in her face. Inspired, Patrick gently pinched the points of her breasts, sending her over the edge. Red heat crept up her face, and her inner muscles tightened around him. As her body slowed almost to a stop, Patrick took charge and gripped her hips. He wanted her. Now. No more teasing with chaste kisses, deliberate slowness, or bringing him nearly to the brink as he watched her find her completion. He was ready to join her in that wonderful state.
In one swift movement, he flipped her over, not breaking their intimate connection. With an intense kiss filled with longing, urgency, and need, he began moving. Breaking their kiss, he supported himself on his forearms, and bent his head to catch a glimpse of her bouncing breasts as he moved atop her. Heat began pooling in his mid-section, and the muscles of his abdomen and thighs tensing. Climax was close, very close, just a bit more. He kissed her cheek, and thrust once more, then abruptly pulled out and spent himself on the counterpane.
“I’ll be right back. Lie still,” Patrick panted. He stood and walked over to get a fresh handkerchief from his bureau. After he cleaned himself, he grabbed a towel and walked back to the bed, cursing himself under his breath. He shouldn’t have been so careless, but it was too late now. He’d just have to show a bit more control in the future, that’s all. He cleared his throat. Now wasn’t the time to worry about the consequences of his deed. He shook the towel to get it unfolded, then used a corner and patted the coverlet. “Hold still, Juliet, or you’ll get it on your robe.”
“Get wha
t on my robe?”
Chapter 25
Juliet sat straight up in bed, heedless to what she’d be getting on her robe by doing so. She reached over and groped for her spectacles. Without them she was utterly useless. Pushing them up her nose, she blinked. Drake stood in front of her with a towel in his hand patting the coverlet. That wasn’t a surprise. She knew he was doing that. She’d felt him. She blinked again. Why was he patting the coverlet with a towel? What was there he was trying to clean up? Her eyes shot to the towel. She couldn’t see anything. She glanced down to the coverlet. She didn’t see anything there, either. Moving her eyes up to look at his face and ask him what was going on, her attention caught on the edge of her crimson silk robe. There wasn’t actually something on it, exactly. But it looked as if there had been some sort of liquid on it recently. Her heart lurched. What was it Caroline and Emma had said about some phantom mess she’d never had to clean up?
“Wh-what is that?” Juliet asked, pointing to the towel.
Drake swallowed. “What do you think it is?”
She glared at him. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just treat me like a child, and instead, you’re going to explain yourself right now.”
“Explain what?”
“Explain what you’ve been doing.”
Drake dropped the towel and crossed his arms. Even naked he gave off an air of authority when he took that stance. “I don’t believe I have anything to explain.”
“Yes, you do.” Juliet scooted down the bed and climbed down over the side to avoid the sticky mess. She shed her current dressing robe and grabbed another. “Explain the mess.”
He shrugged. “I’m sorry, Juliet. That’s just what happens.”
“No, it doesn’t,” she countered with a shake of her head. “And don’t you dare say it does. We’ve made―had relations dozens of times and I know without a doubt you’ve never had a need to wipe the counterpane with a towel before.”
