Shana Galen (16 page)

She’d called the puppy a
boy
, and he liked her all the more. “No, though I wasn’t pleased to see his hands on you.” He slid one hand down her neck to her collarbone.

“His hands were not on me.” She began to pull away, but he held her.

“I was angry at myself.”

He could tell from the arch of her brows she did not believe him.

“It’s true. I was late, and I disappointed you again.” It couldn’t have been helped, but he did not add that now. Instead, he walked his fingers down to the V of her robe.

“I didn’t think you cared.”

“I do. I may not show it, but I hate disappointing you.”

“Then don’t,” she whispered as his fingers parted the material of her robe slowly.

“Oh, I won’t. But that was not the only reason I was angry.”

“No?” Her breath was fast now as he slid the silk slowly over the pink skin of her breasts, baring them.

“No, it was because I had forgotten, until that moment, how utterly ravishing you are.”

“No, I’m—”

He lowered his mouth to her nipple, and her voice ended in a choked moan. He sucked gently, pulling back to tease the hard nub with his tongue. “Yes, you are. I cannot keep my hands off you. I can hardly stop myself from taking you right now.”

“Then don’t.”

This was the Elinor he knew. This was the Elinor who always wanted him. Always complied with all of his wishes. But he did not want compliance now. He wanted heat and passion and a glimpse of the woman he saw when she defied him.

“Drop your robe.”

“I…”

“I want to see you. Touch you. Everywhere.”

She hesitated, lifting her hands but not moving to comply. He’d never made this request before. He’d never wanted to make her uncomfortable. Of course, he’d seen her without clothing, but never like this, never watched her disrobe for him.

Her hands hovered near the slit in the material, and he waited. He was very good at waiting. He’d had years to perfect his skills, but waiting for her to take off the robe rather than ripping it off her himself was the hardest thing he’d ever done.

Finally, after what felt like months of torture, she allowed the material to slide off her shoulders, down her hips, along her legs, and puddle in a heap on the floor. Winn swallowed. He had been a fool. All of this sensuousness had been his, and he had virtually ignored it. Ignored her.

That would end now. “I do not deserve you,” he whispered.

“Should we go to the bed?”

He could see her hands starting to come up, and knew she was feeling self-conscious. “Not yet. As I said, I want to touch you.” He put his hands on her ribs, just below the swell of her breasts. “Everywhere.” He slid his hands down, over the curve of her hips, then cupped her bottom. His fingers itched to delve inside her, to see if she was as hot and wet as he suspected, but he resisted. Instead, he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her softly, nibbling at the corner of her lips. She smiled, and he could feel her body relax. He kissed a light path across her cheeks to her ear. He breathed into it and felt her shiver. “I’m going to make you tremble with pleasure,” he whispered. “I want to hear you call my name.”

She opened her mouth, but he put a finger over it to silence her. If she invited him to take her now, he did not know if he could resist. Her tongue darted out to tease the pad of his finger, and he felt himself go rock hard. Patience would be more difficult than he anticipated.

Gritting his teeth for control, Winn withdrew his finger and dragged it over her lip, down the slight point of her chin to the silky skin of her neck. With so much of her bare skin to explore, he really needed to make use of both hands.

And his mouth.

He followed the path of his finger with his mouth, kissing the hollow of her neck and flicking his tongue out to tease her flesh, which was already pebbling with anticipation. He tasted her shoulder and the inside of her elbow before settling where he really wanted—her ample breasts.

He could still remember when they had first married. She’d had small, pert breasts that fit in the palm of his hand. After the birth of two children, they were not so pert, but they more than filled his hand, and they had a satisfying heaviness he found irresistible. He found one erect nipple and teased it with his tongue. Ellie writhed against him, her breath coming short. “Winn, please.”

He smiled, intent on continuing the torture.

She tasted clean, of bathwater and silk, but underneath that, he could taste her—Elinor. It was a taste he would never forget. It was a taste he had not sampled in far too long.

Winn fitted his hands around her waist and lifted her. She immediately wrapped her legs about him, and he kissed her lips to keep her from exploring with them. She had never been what one might call an adventurous lover, but over the years she had certainly learned where to touch him and what sensations pleased him. He had to hold her at bay for just a little longer.

He kissed her deeply, drugging her with his mouth upon hers and slowly moving her backward. When he reached the dressing table, he set her on it and continued exploring her mouth with his tongue. He filled her, teased her, nipped, and sucked, and she gasped in response. He’d always been careful not to shock her before—not to offend his wife’s delicate sensibilities. But now he had no such qualms. Something about seeing her in Melbourne’s office, seeing her take charge in Foncé’s cellar, made him throw away propriety. There was no room for it between them now. He wanted her, and on his own terms.

Reluctantly, he abandoned her mouth and kissed a path down her torso. She arched back for him, and he paused to tease her breasts again, but he did not linger. When he kissed her abdomen, she tried to sit forward.

“What are you—?”

“Shh. Let me kiss you.”

She continued to struggle. “You said you would cease if I did not like something. I do not want you to kiss me there.”

Winn rested his hands on her thighs, stroking small circles with his thumbs. He felt her muscles tense. “What is it?”

She put her hands over her belly. “I don’t want you to touch me there.”

He frowned. “I want to touch you everywhere.”

“Not there. My skin sags, and I have the scars from pregnancy.”

He looked down at her rounded stomach, ripe and sensual in his opinion. Yes, he could see the faint marks where her skin had stretched with her two pregnancies, but he did not find them distasteful at all. “These?” He traced a hand over one of the faded marks.

“Don’t.” She caught his hand. “They are ugly.”

“Nothing about you is ugly. In particular, the badges you wear from carrying my children are not ugly. I find you beautiful.”

She looked at him as though she did not know him, and perhaps she did not. “Winn.” She shook her head in disbelief.

“Women should be round and soft. I liked your body when we first married, but I love your body now. I cannot resist you.” Gently, he lifted her hands from her belly and kissed the soft flesh there.

“Winn…” But her protests were dying away. He flicked his tongue out, teasing her skin and kissing every one of her scars. He remembered wanting to kiss her distended abdomen when she was with child, but she had kept it hidden from him, and he, not wanting to hurt the child within her, had abstained from his marriage rights. Now he wished he had not been so careful and considerate. Now he wished he had seen her swollen with child and kissed every angry red mark until she was shivering as she was now.

Her breathing had grown rapid again, and he dipped his head lower, kissing the fine light brown hair at the juncture of her thighs. His hands still rested on those thighs, and he moved them inward, teasing her and skittering upward until she was shaking with need. He opened her thighs and knelt before her.

“Winn!” She tried to close her legs, but he was between them now, and he was determined to taste her here. He knew she must feel exposed. She was seated on the dressing table, and he was kneeling before her. But that was how he wanted her. This was how he wanted to see her. The lamps cast a soft glow, and the light from the open windows of her bedroom added to the illumination. He could see the soft pink of her flesh. How long had it been since he’d gazed on her like this?

Years. He had done this only once before, and that had been shortly after they were married. He had cared about her pleasure then. When had he ceased worrying about it? When had he begun to content himself with assuming she reached fulfillment? He would never assume again. He wanted to feel her climax. He wanted to hear her moaning his name.

Winn bent, kissed the velvet skin of her inner thigh, and then tasted her.

***

Elinor bucked in shock. She knew what Winn was doing. She remembered being mortified when he’d done this years ago, but also climaxing harder and faster than she ever had before or since. He’d brought her intermittent pleasure in the years between. Still, she never forgot the touch of his mouth and the lick of his tongue
there
. She had never ceased to crave the sensation again, though she had been too mortified to ask him to do it again. If he but noticed her, she counted herself fortunate.

No longer. She had not asked for this. She was no longer his simpering wife, impossibly in love with him with no hope of requite. She would never be that woman again. If he wanted her now, then she would give herself to him because she was enjoying herself. She would not fall in love with him again.

She looked down at his bent head, his bronze hands on her pale skin, and just then he gazed up at her. His emerald-green eyes were full of mischief and dark with pleasure. He was enjoying this almost as much as she.

Very well, then. She would not fall
very
much
in love with him.

And then his tongue flicked out and touched her core, and she really could not think at all. It had been so long since her body had spiraled with pleasure like this, so long since she’d felt the first stirrings of ecstasy. She knew it was wanton, but she could not help but spread her legs farther, and Winn took it as invitation and slid a finger inside her. His tongue continued its assault, battering her with tiny licks and taps until she was moving her hips against Winn’s mouth and crying for release. “Yes! Please!”

Elinor did not care about the servants. She did not care that Winn was seeing her lose all control. She only knew she had never felt so utterly close to breaking apart before. She only knew that the greatest pleasure she had known was coming. She was already drunk on pleasure, and she could feel more and more and more mounting.

And then Winn scraped his tongue against her, and she exploded. She cried out, gripping the edges of her dressing table for balance. Her hips bucked, and she rose up, and still Winn did not cease his assault. The world was bright white with pleasure, her body was hot with sensation, and when she peaked, she called his name.

The aftermath left her body warm and sluggish and still thrumming with ecstasy. She was vaguely aware that Winn had scooped her up and carried her into her bedchamber. She was vaguely aware that the drapes were open, and she would have preferred they were closed so her body was not quite so exposed. And, in the midst of the last eddies of pleasure, she was vaguely aware that Winn was undressing. She glanced up, from where she was sprawled on the bed, and saw him pull his shirt over his head.

His body was bruised and battered. Blue, yellow, and green splotches mottled his torso and ribs. She was no stranger to his scars and abrasions. She had seen him bandaged and bloody, but she had always believed him when he claimed to have fallen off a horse. Now, she knew differently. His muscles bunched as he pulled the shirt off, and she thought what a perfect specimen he was, despite the injuries. He was no soft-bellied gentleman of leisure. He was slim and fit and powerfully built.

A shot of arousal pierced her. She did not know where it had come from. How could she want him again? How could her body be warming with desire? She did not think even Winn’s skilled touch could make her feel anything more today. But the sight of his hard, bare chest made her mouth go dry. She wanted to touch that skin, drag her teeth over it, rub her sensitive nipples against him.

He reached for the fall of his trousers, and she moaned. She could still feel the last waves of her climax pulsing through her. But when she saw his erection—how hard he was, and all for her—she could not stop herself from reaching for him. But he was faster. He bent and grasped her wrists, pinning them over her head. Elinor knew if she protested he would release her.

She looked into his eyes, into the hot desire she saw there, and had a moment’s pause. Would he release her? Did she want him to?

His mouth was on hers again. His bare chest grazed the tips of her breasts, and she gasped with pleasure. His hips settled between her thighs, nudging her open, though he did not enter her. She could feel the tip of him—hard and velvet—poised against her most delicate core, but he seemed in no rush. Once again, he was kissing her senseless. Once again, he was drugging her, making her forget who she was and all the years between them.

Seemingly of their own accord, her legs wrapped around him, urging him closer. She wanted to feel him inside her, filling her, completing her.

“Tell me you want me.”

“I want you.” She pressed him closer with her legs, raising her hips to meet him.

“Say my name,” he murmured in her ear. Elinor gritted her teeth. Would the man not hurry?

“Winn, I want you.
Now.
”

He drove into her, and she gasped at the sudden rush of sensation. His thrust pushed her down into the bed and sent a shock of pleasure swirling through her.

“Are you hurt?” He’d never been so rough with her. Never taken her with so much force before. He was pulling back, but she reached up and grabbed his back, holding him in place. “I hurt you.”

“No.” She couldn’t imagine him hurting her physically. “I like it.”

He looked down at her, surprise in those vivid green eyes. He moved inside her, thrusting deeply. “Do you like this?”