“Jesus.” He kissed her again, his eyes traveling over her face, her body, her lips. Almost as if he didn’t quite trust himself. As if he didn’t believe she was real. “I love you so bloody much. Do you mean it, little dove? Will you stay with me?”
She didn’t need to think. “Forever if you’ll have me.”
A low sound tore from him. “Of course I’ll have you. You’re the only woman I want. My only love. Now and forever. Last chance to run, darling.”
Not a chance, the silly man. How she loved him. She shook her head. “I’m not going anywhere. Now kiss me, if you please.”
“With pleasure.” His mouth descended, claiming and hungry. An almost frantic need took over them both. His tongue slid inside to duel with hers.
She wanted his bare, heated flesh, his body atop hers. A hollow ache pulsed between her thighs, wetness flooding there as he plundered. She raked her seeking fingers over his broad back, his strong shoulders. Her nails sank into his tight buttocks, and then she traveled over his lean waist to the knot on his robe, her fingers making short work of it.
He gripped her dressing down in both hands and tore it apart, heedless of the belt as he ravished her mouth. The silken robe fell to the floor, leaving her bare for him. His hands were everywhere. Kneading her breasts, thumbs working over her hard nipples, branding her curves.
“Mine,” he whispered reverently, dragging his mouth down her throat, nipping and licking and kissing as he went.
“Yes.” Her complete surrender was torn from her, so easy, so right. There was nothing else she wanted in the world than to be in her husband’s arms now in this moment, reveling in their love. “Take me, Julian. Make me yours forever.”
Julian’s fingers dipped into the folds of her sex, finding the pearl that made her mindless with want. “You’re so wet for me.” He sucked a nipple into his mouth, raked his teeth over the sensitive nub, gave her a gentle bite that had her crying out and her knees going weak. He caught her to him when she would have turned into an aspic, puddling to the floor. “Tell me what you want, my love.” He kissed the curve of her breast.
Desire surged through her, coiling in the center of her being, the very core of her where she longed for him most. “You, my love. Take me. Please.” She tore his robe off him at last, mindless in her need for him.
He took her in his arms, carrying her to his bed before depositing her gently in the center. In the next moment, he was atop her, his powerful body between her thighs, spreading them wide. He rained kisses over her skin, from breasts to thigh to the inside of her knee. Lower, to her calf. Higher to the jut of her hip bone. And then, when she thought she’d melt with desire, his dark head settled between her thighs.
“Mine,” he said again, the word a delicious brand against her most sensitive flesh. “Come for me, little dove.” And then he licked her, plumping the bud of her sex before tracing wetly over her seam. His tongue sank inside her in long, hot thrusts before he replaced it with his fingers. When he nipped at her pearl and worked it in slow slashes, he sank inside her so deep that she couldn’t contain herself. She cried out, finding her release, her body twisting and jerking into his.
“Yes, my love, just like that.” Lovingly, he ran his tongue over her, lapping up the wetness of her spend, savoring her in a way that made a fresh onslaught of desire make her weak.
And then he was over her, above her, his thighs between hers, spreading her wide. “Tell me what you want,” he commanded, his voice strained.
The hard tip of him nudged her folds. She reached between their bodies, grasping his velvety length and stroking. “You,” she said. “I want you, my darling husband.”
“Put me inside you.”
Clara guided him to the hungriest part of her, tipping her hips to welcome him at the same moment he pushed inside. The breath hissed from his lungs as he thrust into her, hard and sure. They rode the wave of pleasure as one, bodies slamming together, eager, desperate, longing. She reached her climax at the same moment he found his. He pulsed inside her, his seed a warm, delicious flood inside her sated body.
Slowly, they both descended back to earth together. He kissed her throat, took her lips, grazed her jaw. “I love you, Clara. I love you so bloody much it hurts.”
She held him to her, kissed him back with all the love in her heart. “And I love you,” she whispered. “I love you so.”
He stared into her eyes, beautiful and fierce and beloved. “Do you promise, little dove? You’ll not change your mind and long to go back to Virginia without me one day? I made you choose between the place you loved and me once, and I’ll not do it again.”
She kissed him lingeringly. “I promise. And if I ever do go back to Virginia, it will only be with you by my side.”
Julian pressed his forehead to hers and closed his eyes. “Thank you, my love. I’ll do my damnedest to see that you never regret choosing me.”
Clara smiled, heart bursting with love. “I have no fears on that account, my darling man. You’re quite stuck with this Virginia hoyden.”
He grinned. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
And then he kissed her again.
lara rested her hands on the scrolled wooden railing of the balcony off her bedchamber, tilted her head back to feel sun warming her skin, and leaned into the solid presence of the man she loved at her back. Birds chirped, the air was redolent with freshly mown grass and the pink roses blooming in the gardens below.
She inhaled deeply, eyes closed. “Is there anything sweeter than a Virginia summer?” she asked Julian on a pleased sigh.
He pressed his wicked mouth to her throat just below her ear and gently nibbled at her skin. “You are sweeter than a Virginia summer, my love. Far sweeter.” He nipped her ear lobe and then traced his tongue over the shell.
An answering heat slid straight to the pulsing ache at her core. They’d just made love not an hour ago, and even though she’d restored her gown and hair to a semblance of order, she was already contemplating luring him back to bed. It was their honeymoon, after all.
A sigh of approval hummed from her as she inclined her head to grant him better access. “Perhaps you ought to keep tasting me to see where I’m sweetest,” she suggested with cheeky intent.
“With pleasure, Clara mine.” He kissed her jaw, her cheek, nuzzled into her throat, his tongue playing over her with delicious, insistent little strokes. “Tell me where I shall taste you. Here?” He found the sensitive dip where her neck and shoulder met, tasting it as well. “Or perhaps here?”
Anticipation sparked through her, making her nipples tighten into hard points against her corset. How she loved their easy familiarity with each other. Julian had proven himself a tender and attentive husband as well as lover. He listened to her, was patient and kind even to her bear of a father, he made her laugh with his wit, and simply put, he made her melt. Everywhere.
She found the small buttons hidden on the front of her bodice and slipped the first few from their moorings. “I had somewhere else in mind. Somewhere…lower.”
“Ah, I know just the spot.” His low drawl sounded simultaneously proper and debauched.
A thrill went down her spine. The moment he came into a room, looked at her, touched her, existed, she wanted him. She couldn’t touch him, smell his divine masculine scent, or look upon him without feeling an ache deep inside her. A need to be filled and claimed. And it seemed that the feelings only grew stronger with each passing day. Each day she loved and wanted him more than the last. She’d never imagined it possible, but it was true.
“What spot is that?” she asked, feeling like a wanton and not knowing even a trace of shame for it.
She expected to feel her skirts rising. Instead, he took her hand in his and brought it to his lips. Her head swiveled to the side to drink in the sight of him, bronzed and dark and beautiful. Virginia agreed with him. She was so very happy that she’d allowed him to persuade her to spend a month here for a belated honeymoon. He’d rented a
grand old home in the countryside that was only half a day’s drive from Richmond. His sisters were thriving in London under the clever tutelage of Lady Bella in preparation for Alexandra’s comeout. It was nothing but the two of them and a handful of staff, and Clara reveled in the chance to be unfettered and free and simply enjoy married life.
After their honeymoon was at an end, they would travel by train to New York, where they’d meet with Levi Storm and his wife Lady Helen Storm. Julian had been keen on creating his own source of wealth so that his estates would never again fall into ruin. He was partnering with Levi in a company that would manufacture steam turbines, set up with the help of Clara’s father. It seemed that everything—all the pieces of their puzzle—had fallen together.
Staring at her now in that rakish way he had that never failed to undo her, Julian ran his tongue over one of her knuckles. “Here.” He licked again.
Moisture pooled between her thighs. Her husband could make even the most innocent part of her body into a seduction. And she loved him all the more for it. “That wasn’t the spot either.”
He sucked the tip of her finger into his mouth before releasing it. His gaze was like electricity sparking straight through her. “Here?”
“Anywhere,” she confessed. “Surely you know by now. I’m helpless to resist you.”
He pressed a passionate kiss to the top of her hand. “That’s what I like to hear, little dove.”
With her free hand, she tunneled her fingers through his thick, dark hair. How she loved this man. “You already knew that, my lord.”
He kissed her inner wrist, his grasp curling lightly over her. His touch sent a fresh wave of longing through her. “You could tell me every hour of every bloody day and I’d never grow tired of it.”
She smiled, realizing in that moment that she was the happiest she’d ever been, at ease on a summer day with her husband in her arms and the sun shining down upon them. All was right in the world. “What if I told you every minute? Perhaps you’d grow weary of it then,” she teased.
With a growl, he spun her to face him, trapping her between the balcony’s railing and his body. He cupped her cheek and fitted his mouth over hers, taking her lips in a possessive kiss. He tasted of tea and sin and of their earlier lovemaking.
When he tore his mouth from hers, they were both breathless. “You could tell me every minute, love. I still wouldn’t mind as long as you’re mine and as long as you love me.”
Her gaze traveled over his handsome, beloved face. “You know the answer to both.”
“Tell me,” he commanded.
Her smile softened. “I love you, and I’m helpless to resist you.”
He gave her a roguish grin. “You didn’t seem helpless to resist me earlier when I found you at your correspondence. Tell me, what letter had you frowning so ferociously until I eventually convinced you to join me in bed? You never did say.”
“Nor did you ask.” She swatted his chest playfully. “You were far too busy tempting me away from my letters. But if you must know, the letter was from my dear friend Bo.”
Julian groaned. “Not the troublesome one.”
“She’s not troublesome,” Clara defended her best friend. “She has a good heart. We’ll always be bonded by terrorizing our enemies at finishing school. She’s an original. True, sometimes she gets herself into scrapes, but it isn’t as if I couldn’t say the same for myself. Bo is bold and unique and…”
“Troublesome,” her husband finished for her. “I’ll be forever in her debt for sending you to me, but my gratitude aside, I can see her for the hoyden that she is.”
“She isn’t a hoyden.” Clara frowned at him. “She wrote me with news of the inroads she’s been making on behalf of our Lady’s Suffrage Society.”
Clara and Bo had decided to create a group of ladies who could advocate for women receiving their rightful vote. It went against the grain of the ton elite, but Clara didn’t give a damn and neither did Bo. They both believed firmly that women should be treated as man’s equal, in law and deed, and they meant to do something about it.
Thus far, they hadn’t accomplished much. Their membership was thin at best. But when Clara returned to London, they would begin recruiting. If enough women banded together, they could accomplish something. She just knew it.
“Inroads?” Julian arched a brow, his interest piqued. He had encouraged her to take action about her beliefs. Creating a group with influence that could potentially sway parliament had been his idea.
“Yes,” she said on a satisfied sigh as he kissed her neck again and his fingers found the buttons she’d already undone on her bodice. “An MP is sweet on her, and she hopes to influence him. He’s the younger brother of the Duke of Bainbridge.”
“Bainbridge is an arrogant, pompous, unyielding stone wall of a man,” Julian said against her skin, his tone suggesting he found the notion humorous. “I doubt very much he’d allow someone as free-spirited as Lady Bo to bend his brother’s ear.”
Clara thought of what her friend had said about the duke. Frigid as Wenham Lake ice. Disapproving of everyone save his superior self. “She’s been invited to the family home, so it couldn’t be as bad as all that. It’s some sort of country house event, or so I gather.”
“Good luck to her. Or perhaps I ought to say good luck to Bainbridge.” Julian made short work of the remainder of the buttons on her bodice, peeling it open. In another breath, he’d loosened her corset and tugged it and her chemise down, allowing her breasts to spill free into the humid summer air. “Either way, I’ve more pressing concerns at the moment.”
She moaned and arched into him as he sucked a nipple. “More pressing concerns? What could they possibly be?” As she asked him the question, she slid her hand down his taut belly to the rigid protrusion of his cock beneath his trousers. She cupped him, feeling an answering ache between her thighs.
He caught her nipple in his teeth before releasing it with a lusty sound. “I have a feeling you already know, Lady Ravenscroft.”
“Do I, Lord Ravenscroft?” She attempted a look of innocence. “Perhaps you ought to show me, just to be certain.”
In one swift motion, he scooped her up in his arms. “With pleasure.”
She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly, her heart bursting with happiness. “I love you, Julian,” she said again, for she couldn’t speak the words enough, it seemed. She never wanted him to forget. He was a man so very much in need of love and so very worthy of it too.
“I love you too, little dove,” he said against her lips. “More than you know. Now, if I could only find the spot where you taste the sweetest.”
“It may require some research, my love,” she told him with mock seriousness.
He grinned down at her as he carried her back inside. “Never let it be said I’m not an excellent student.”
And he proceeded to show her just how excellent he was.
Dear Reader,
Thank you for reading Restless Rake! I hope you enjoyed this fifth installment in the Heart’s Temptation series. Julian stole my heart from the moment he appeared in A Mad Passion, and I knew I’d have to write his story one day. Finally, he and Clara have their happily ever after!
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As always, please consider leaving an honest review of Restless Rake. Reviews are greatly appreciated!
If you’d like a preview of Book Six in the Heart’s Temptation series featuring the spirited Lady Bo and the oh-so-proper duke who can’t resist her, do read on.
Until next time,
Heart’s Temptation Book Six
An untamable hellion…
Lady Boadicea Harrington is a scandal waiting to happen. She’s too outspoken, too opinionated, and far too much of a flirt to ever land a good match.
But that doesn’t concern her. The last of her sisters on the marriage mart, she isn’t about to settle down. In fact, she doesn
’t plan to marry at all. If only she could tone down her wild streak and force herself to behave…
A rigidly proper man…
The Duke of Bainbridge is one of the most powerful men in England, so frigid that it’s rumored his own wife committed suicide to escape him.
When Spencer learns his madcap younger brother is pursuing the unsuitable Lady Boadicea, he’s determined to put an end to their ill-advised flirtation. But his best intentions go awry when he discovers his own baffling inability to resist her.
Ice meets fire…
Spencer never meant to so thoroughly compromise Lady Bo that he’s duty-bound to wed her. Bo certainly never intended to enjoy being in his arms or to find him so wickedly tempting.
Can her passionate fire prove enough to melt his icy heart, or are they forever doomed to a cold marriage of convenience?
1884
f all the chits in England his nonsensical brother could have gone lovesick over, Lady Boadicea Harrington was, indisputably, the most unsuitable. Spencer had never been more certain of it than the moment he caught her in his library with a bawdy book in her hand.
Oh, she’d disguised the tripe in a pretty, embroidered cover. The ordinary observer would never guess the contents of the small book she’d held nestled in her elegant, fine-boned hands. But she’d dropped it when he startled her from her rapt reading.
Naturally, he’d played the gentleman despite his acute dislike of her. He’d known without a doubt that she was trouble. Everything about her—from her bold auburn hair to her vivid blue eyes and her beauty so singular that the first time he’d seen her at close proximity, a jolt had gone straight through him—yes, everything about her was in bad taste.
Restless Rake (Heart's Temptation Book 5) Page 27
