by Joanna Shupe
Chapter Fourteen
The evening had not been nearly as miserable as Oliver had feared.
In fact, he had actually enjoyed it. Hatcher and Nora were polite and accommodating of his condition, and sitting next to his wife all night had started a slow boil in his blood, a simmering desire only she sparked within him.
Not that he could act on said desire. No, he needed to get her alone and apologize for his idiotic behavior earlier. Whatever happened beyond that was up to Christina.
Once Gill took their things, Oliver held out his hand to her. “A drink?”
She bit her lip, uncertainty plain in her eyes as she laced their fingers together. Still, he was encouraged that she trusted him enough to come along.
Instead of leading her to the salon or his study, he took her up the stairs. A fire had been lit in his room, warming the space, and he switched on the overhead gasolier. She began removing her gloves as he slipped out of his evening coat. “Brandy?” he asked.
“Yes,” she signed. “Thank you.”
He poured a healthy amount of brandy in two crystal tumblers and brought them to the seating area by the fire. When they were settled together on the sofa, he handed her a glass and set his on the side table. Then he angled toward her to better see her face. “Did you enjoy your evening?”
She nodded and sipped her brandy. “And you?”
“Surprisingly, I enjoyed it.”
“Why did you join us? You had refused quite emphatically earlier.”
“I know. I apologize. I should never have forced you to go alone.”
“Then why did you? Furthermore, what changed your mind?”
“I thought it was for the best.” He picked up his glass and downed a swallow of brandy, enjoying the burn along his insides. Once his hands were free, he continued to sign while also using his voice. “I did not like seeing you with Frank.”
Her brows shot up. “You saw us?”
He pointed in the direction of the window. “I watched as you left.”
“You were jealous.”
“I was jealous.” No use denying it. She deserved the truth after what he had done. “You were smiling at him and . . . I hated it.”
She stared at the fire, sipping her brandy and not saying anything for a long moment. Nerves rolled about in his belly. Had he erred in being honest with her? Did she not feel the same about him?
When he left society, he had sworn never to allow himself to care about a woman this way. Yet somehow, Christina had slid under his skin, with her shy smiles and vulnerability. All his resolve about keeping her at arm’s length and ensuring this marriage did not become real had crumbled in the presence of this one English lady.
His wife.
He could not lie any longer, not after last night—and especially not after chasing her down at Sherry’s. She meant something to him, even if he had not planned for it to happen.
Gentle fingers swept over his thigh to gain his attention, and his skin broke out in a fever where she’d touched. Her expression serious, she said, “I was very glad you came.”
“Was there a problem?”
“No, Mr. Tripp was a perfect gentleman . . . but he was not you.”
Oliver’s stomach jumped. He longed to savor this moment where she revealed something so personal. Most of their serious conversations had been concluded on paper, and he hoped this confession meant she had grown a bit more comfortable with him. “I am sorry I forced you to go, Christina. I should have given you the choice.”
She cocked her head and regarded him thoughtfully. “You know, no one has ever apologized to me before.”
“No?”
“No one but you.”
He shifted closer, unable to keep from touching her. “Then I am outraged on your behalf.” He held her jaw in his hand, the skin like silk against his palm. Flecks of green and gold sparkled in the depths of her brown eyes. She was beautiful, every inch of her, inside and out. “You are so lovely it takes my breath away. I am drawn to everything about you. I want to uncover every secret, learn all your hidden depths.”
“I am afraid I shall only disappoint you,” she said. “I am nothing special and you—”
He stopped paying attention to her words after that. Was she arguing with him about what he wanted? “You could never disappoint me. If I had my pick of all the women on earth, you would remain my choice.”
They stared at one another for a long moment and the world paused around them. Blood rushed in his veins, his skin alive with the need to do something. He leaned in ever so slowly to give her every chance to resist, but she melted into his grip, easing forward to meet him. Before their lips touched, he closed his eyes and held perfectly still, just breathing her in. This felt momentous, a corner turned, but he did not wish to go backward. No matter what happened, this was intentional.
Her lips met his in the gentlest brush, and lust punched through his gut, every bit of him on edge, and he kissed her long and sweet, his fingers tightening on her jaw. His functioning senses heightened, sharpened, to focus on her. He reveled in the softness of her skin, the way her lips nibbled and melded with his. The slide of her nose against his own. His tongue soon found hers and their mouths opened, where she met his strokes with a boldness and fervor that caused his cock to thicken.
As much as he longed to pick her up, toss her on his bed, and have his wicked way with her, Christina deserved better. He did not wish to scare her; rather, he needed to drive her wild, to have her crave this as much as he did. When they finished, she could have no doubt as to how much he desired her.
He broke off from her mouth and placed deep open kisses along her jaw and throat, using his teeth and tongue to taste her, gratified when her fingers clung to his shoulders. Her evening gown revealed a tantalizing amount of décolletage, the plump mounds of her breasts thrust up by her corset, and he wasted no time in exploring the luscious creamy skin.
He teased her with his lips and tongue, and one of her hands threaded his hair to hold him in place. He slid a palm up her ribs and plumped her breast higher to expose more skin, and her back arched to push closer to his mouth. Still, it was not nearly enough. He needed every inch of her readily available.
He leaned back to ask, “May I undress you?”
She bit her lip, teeth sinking into the plump flesh. Then she nodded.
He stood and assisted her to her feet. “We may stop at any time.” He clasped her hand and raised it higher. “Remember, use your hand to gain my attention.”
Another nod. Her lack of audible response worried him. He stopped and peered into her eyes. “Am I . . . Is this what you want? I am probably overeager and pushing—”
“No, Oliver. I am merely nervous. Please, do not stop.”
Thank God. He stepped in and pressed his lips to her forehead. “I will not frighten you or make you uncomfortable in any way, I swear. I only intend to give you more of the same pleasure.”
“I believe you.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Shall I lie on the bed? Like last night?”
His brows dipped. Was she in a hurry? While he was eager to taste and touch her, he had to be honest: he was nervous. Before last night, he had not been intimate with a woman in years. Above all else, he must remain in control. Proceed slowly and not alarm her. “Not yet. I want to do this right.”
“Is there a wrong way to do it?”
He stifled the laugh that rose in his throat, not wanting her to think he was making light of her questions. “No, at least not that I remember. Though it has been a few years for me.”
She nodded once, understanding in her eyes. “I swear I won’t complain, no matter how much it hurts.”
She thought to spare his feelings? What had the world done to this woman that she thought of everyone else’s happiness before her own? He stepped closer, close enough that her skirts brushed his legs, and he kissed her briefly. “Sweet Christina, I would not hurt you for the world. I only want to make you feel good.”
He
bent and sealed his mouth to hers. If he thought she would remain timid or withdrawn he was soon disabused of that notion. She responded instantly, her lips moving eagerly, intently, with no hesitation, almost as if she was relieved to return to kissing. Sparks ignited under his skin, every cell flickering to life, heat building, as their mouths moved in tandem. Her small palms rested on his chest, her fingers digging in to keep him in place.
When her tongue touched his lips, seeking entry, his knees nearly buckled. More than happy to oblige, he opened his mouth and found her tongue with his, tasting her, inhaling her scent. He shifted her head to the side and kissed her harder, desperate to get closer. Christ, he wanted her. His cock was painfully erect in his trousers and they were not yet naked.
Had he ever experienced this all-consuming fever with another woman? Certainly not that he could recall. Damn this clothing for separating them. Angling her shoulders away from him, he set to work on the buttons and hooks of her dress. She stilled his hand.
“Shall I stop?” he asked.
“No, but should we switch off the light?” She glanced at the overhead light fixture.
“That is not necessary. I would much rather see you.”
“Why?” Panic flashed in her expression. “I thought . . . that is, I thought this happened under the covers.”
“I am deaf, Christina, not blind. I wish to see every inch of you.”
“No.”
Had he misunderstood? “No?”
“Is it not proper for me to wait under the covers?”
He shook his head. “There is no proper here, not in my bed. There is just you and me, and whatever happens is between us. Furthermore, I shall stop anytime you wish.”
“I do not wish to stop.”
“Good. Now, allow me to demonstrate my ability to properly ravish you. I promise you will not regret it.”
Shifting her away from him, he hastened to unfasten the bodice of her evening dress. As the material gaped, he pressed gentle kisses to the newly exposed skin. She soon relaxed, her back resting on his front, allowing him to slide a hand over her shoulder and under her clothing. There he found her nipple, which he rolled and pinched until she dropped her head onto his chest, her mouth falling open in pleasure. Then he shifted to the other breast and performed the same delicious torture there.
His cock throbbed in his clothing, begging for friction. He could barely breathe from the desire for this woman. This ravishing needed to proceed at a faster clip, or else he might finally lose his sanity.
He pulled back to see her face. “I know I said we would not consummate our marriage, but I have changed my mind.” More like he finally acknowledged the truth. He never had a prayer of resisting her. “I want you, Christina. In every way.”
“Why?”
He traced the tops of her breasts with one fingertip, enjoying the raised bumps on her smooth flesh that followed in his wake. “Because you have bewitched me. Because I am delirious with desire for you. I cannot work, I cannot sleep. My body is no longer my own.” He leaned down and dragged the flat of his tongue over the tantalizing mound visible above her underclothes. “It belongs to you, evidently.”
Straightening, he felt her sigh against his mouth right before she kissed him, her lips pulling him under her spell until he could not breathe. Soft fingers speared his hair as their tongues met and dueled with one another. Her mouth was hot and lush. Heavenly. He could kiss her for hours and never tire of it.
She tore away from him and rested her forehead on his cheek as they both struggled for breath. Air gusted over his jaw. Was she speaking?
He fixed his gaze on her mouth. “You said something?”
“Yes, Oliver.” She bit her bottom lip briefly before releasing it. “I said yes.”
There was no opportunity for embarrassment over her agreement because Oliver immediately swept into action. He stood and pulled Christina up, his hands going to the remaining fastenings and tapes on her silk bodice. Before she could help, he had the garment undone and falling down her arms. He placed the heavy piece on the sofa and then undid her overskirt. The rest of her clothing came off quickly—satin underskirt, camisole, flounced petticoat, bustle pad—until she was left in her undergarments.
You are standing in only your corset and drawers. In a man’s bedroom.
Good God, what was she doing? Her skin went up in flames and she brought her hands up to cover herself as best she could. Was it too late to run toward the adjoining door?
The panic must’ve been plain on her face, because when Oliver turned from laying her things on the sofa he gave her a gentle smile. “You are contemplating running.”
It seemed silly to admit to such a thing, especially when she had agreed to this whole business a few minutes earlier.
“Christina.” He stepped forward and placed a finger under her chin, tilting her face up toward his. Dark green eyes glowed hot as he stared at her. “If you believe for a second that I am dissatisfied with the way you look, let me disavow you of that ridiculousness. I am burning alive with desire for you. I am seconds away from ripping all those tiny buttons and ribbons and throwing you atop my bed.”
Her chest tightened, making it hard to breathe. Somehow Oliver always knew what to say, the clever man. Too bad she could not say the same of herself. She’d have to settle for a kiss.
Rising on her toes, she joined her mouth to his. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her flush to his body—and she discovered the evidence of his desire against her belly. Mercy, a woman could hardly miss it.
He bent, clasped under her buttocks, and lifted her straight up. Gasping, she placed her hands on his firm shoulders and held on. Then she was falling until her back landed on the soft mattress. As he removed her shoes, she hurried to close her legs.
He stilled, studying her. “I see you require additional proof.”
Further proof? Her brow furrowed. “Of what?”
Instead of answering, he worked the buttons of his waistcoat free. He shrugged out of the piece and tossed it to the ground, much less careful with his own clothing than he’d been with hers. Suspenders and shirt followed, then he unbuttoned his undergarment and freed his arms, leaving him bare from the waist up. Before she could appreciate his solid torso and trim waist, he crawled onto the mattress and pushed her legs apart. “Relax,” he signed and settled between her knees.
She had no opportunity to worry over how she appeared, spread below him, because he began unhooking her corset. “God above, you are lovely,” he said when he uncovered her. Two large hands cupped her breasts through her chemise, squeezing the mounds gently, molding them as if learning the shape. When he rolled her nipples between his fingers, she gasped, the delicious pressure echoing in her womb.
Gathering fabric in his hands, he pushed her undergarment over her head, baring her breasts. He quickly dipped his head and took the tip into the wet heat of his mouth, sucking hard. She inhaled sharply. Had she ever dreamed her nipples were this sensitive? It was exquisite agony, with each swipe of his tongue and draw of his lips sending sparks up her legs and through her core.
She hardly noticed as he began working her drawers over her hips, too focused on what he was doing to her nipples. God, he must never stop his attentions. Ever. She could lie here for days and be perfectly happy.
Suddenly, he shifted, his mouth leaving her breasts as he drifted lower on the mattress, bringing her drawers and stocking down until her legs were bare. His head dipped and she felt electrifying kisses along the skin of her inner thigh.
Though it felt divine, she was uncertain what was happening. She levered up and pushed on his shoulder. Glittering dark eyes met hers. “What are you doing?” she asked.
“I swear you shall love this. Trust me, Christina.”
She nodded though her hands remained clenched in the bedclothes. Was he staring at her there?
“Lie back and relax.” When she settled, he rested a hand on her sternum. The weight was comforting, as if he neede
d to remain connected to her.
His face came closer and she felt the swipe of his tongue across her most feminine flesh. She nearly leapt off the bed as a jolt of pleasure shot through her. Goodness gracious . . . had he licked her? There?
The question was answered when he did it again . . . and again, the sensation nearly overwhelming in its strength. She quivered and shook, her body reaching and straining, his tongue licking her core with purpose. After a moment, he dedicated his attention to one spot and her eyes nearly rolled back. The muscles in her legs locked, everything in her tightening, every nerve ending centered in that place.
Mouth and teeth worked on that nub, sucking and scraping, until she squirmed beneath him. Loud moans erupted from her mouth, guttural sounds she could no longer control. She was climbing higher and higher, the feeling so much more intense than last night’s climax. When he inserted a finger into her channel, everything burst free, breaking, a thousand stars scattered into the heavens as release overcame her. The trembling went on and on as the sweet oblivion dragged her under.
After one more kiss to her sex, he stood and began tearing at the rest of his clothing. She watched, dazed, as he freed his erection from his undergarment. The shaft stood out proudly from his body, demanding and eager, the bulbous head slightly reddish. Blue veins ran down the sides under the skin. It was intimidating and so different.
“Christina.”
She found his face. Oliver’s right hand came up, his middle finger tapping the back of his other hand. “Touch me,” he signed, his gaze wild. “Please.” He stepped out of his trousers and undergarment then crawled back onto the bed next to her.
“I cannot . . .” She reached tentatively for him, but snatched her hand back. “How?”
“Did you ask how?”
She looked up so he could see her mouth. “Yes. I do not wish to hurt you.”
Curling his fingers, he signed by hitting one hand on top of the other. “Hard.”
“Hard?”
“You cannot hurt me. Grab me as rough as you like.” He took her wrist and led her hand to the shaft. “Wrap your hand around me.”
