Chapter Four
W hen Raoul opened his eyes, the gray sky was starting to lighten, and the soft patter of rain still filled the room. He rolled onto his left side. Rather than dozing in the chair, Suzanne lay curled up beside him, breathing deeply, strands of reddish hair tousled around her heart-shaped face.
For a few moments, he watched her sleep, marveling in the smoothness of her skin, the rosy hue of her lips, her serene expression. How did she do it? How did she manage to stay so good-natured? Her life hadn’t been easy, far from it. Born out of wedlock and orphaned young just like him, forced to work from an early age to survive, and mostly left to her own devices, though she did have a flurry of cousins and possible half-siblings around the Palais Royal. And yet the grit and grind had never worn her down or hardened her heart.
In this, they were so very different. Raoul sighed. This was why he’d acted a fool and resisted the desire she awoke within him. Because getting too close would soften him, like ice in the noonday sun.
He laid his palm on her cheek. He was so very weary of holding back. Already a part of him felt lighter for having told Suzanne about his mother, and he’d fallen asleep shortly after supper while she sat beside him on the bed, mending a petticoat. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d known such a sensation of comfort and contentment, a distant memory brought back to the present.
His thumb brushed the delicate skin of Suzanne’s cheek. He wanted more of this—more of her , her warmth, and her touch and her scent engulfing him.
He shifted closer and breathed in, plunging his hand into her hair to brush it away from her face. Rosewater over something headier that he couldn’t define, but that was unique to her and never failed to arouse his senses. Blood rushed to his cock, and the stroke of his hand grew more insistent.
Suzanne stirred. Her mouth opened slightly, and she drew in a shaky breath before her lids fluttered open.
Upon meeting his gaze, she smiled drowsily. “Did you sleep well?”
“Very much so.” His voice was raspy, his throat tight with unspent lust. “And you?”
“Like a babe. I do not remember when last I felt so rested.”
She uncurled and stretched, the wide collar of her nightrail sliding to reveal the creamy slope that led to her breasts. Fucking hell, the urge to grab her waist and pull her flush against him was overwhelming, but he could not jump on her like a beast when she’d just awoken. Besides, if he moved his arm too suddenly, his wound might open again.
A flame lit in Suzanne’s eyes. “That being said, I might be persuaded to stay in bed a little while longer.”
He could not speak. The words were lodged somewhere in his chest. I want you. I want you more than I have ever wanted any other woman. I feel as if I might die if I don’t take you now.
He would have to show her, then.
He cupped the back of her head and pulled her to him, catching her mouth with his. Lord above, he would never tire of the feeling of those lush lips opening so eagerly for his tongue. He craved to feel them on his skin, around his cock, teasing and sucking until his pleasure spilled over. Later. For now, he simply wanted to feast.
She moaned and grabbed his wrist, leading his hand over her shoulder and down to her breast. He squeezed and pinched the pebbled tip between his thumb and forefinger. She moaned again, louder this time, and arched into his touch.
“Raoul,” she panted, breaking their kiss. “ Please .”
He bent and caught her nipple with his mouth, wetting the thin material of her nightrail with slow swirls of his tongue before pulling at it greedily. Suzanne quivered, and a sharp cry escaped her.
“Oh. Oh , that’s…” She dug her fingers into his hair and tugged with each movement of his tongue, sending little prickles of pain to his scalp. It merely urged him on, made him hungrier for her. “You are torturing me.”
He lifted his head. “Do you wish me to stop?”
“No, but rid me of this shift, I beg you.”
He ran his hand up her leg, bunching up the light material of her nightrail up to her hip, but went no further.
“Let me touch you first,” he growled. “I’m as hard as stone for you, but I need make sure you are ready.”
He dipped his hand between her legs, and he bit back a groan. More than ready, yes. Opening for his touch like a flower, wet and warm around his finger. Holy hell, she gave way so easily to its thrusts, jerking her hips to take his fingers in deeper with breathy whimpers.
He buried his face in her neck. He wasn’t even inside her yet, and he was already halfway to losing his mind. “Perfect. You are perfect.”
“It is too good, I cannot bear it,” she cried, trembling. “Undress me and take me now. I am yours.”
*
Her body was burning. Inside, outside, from the pit of her stomach to the surface of her skin, Suzanne had never been consumed with such desire before. All the fantasies of finally lying with Raoul paled in comparison to the hunger of his mouth, the strength and sureness of his touch.
She could not wait a moment longer. And yet as Raoul tugged her nightrail over her, leaving her naked to his gaze, her yearning mixed with apprehension. She wasn’t afraid of Raoul—no, she trusted him with her life. But she had lain with men before him, silly little affairs of no consequence, and none of them had looked at her like he did. With intensity that went far beyond lust, as if he was trying to take in and memorize every small detail. What if he found something lacking?
She shivered and crossed her arms over her chest. Raoul propped himself up on his left arm and frowned. “Are you cold?”
“No, I… I’m fine.”
“What is it, then?”
She swallowed and attempted to calm her breathing. “Nerves, I suppose. It’s not the same with you. I’ve dreamed about this for so long…”
He went rigid. “You fear it might not be as you hoped?”
“I fear you might not like it as much as I will.” She bit her lip. “Is that silly?”
His mouth curled into a half-smile. “Not silly. Impossible.”
He kicked free of his pantaloons and lay down next to her, gently unwinding her arms, turning her so her chest pressed to his, rubbing against coarse, dark hair peppered over sculpted muscles.
“Lift your leg over my waist,” he rasped.
The position left her completely open to him, and she cried out as his cock slowly slid over her sensitive core. The gnawing ache returned, sweeping everything aside, demanding to be assuaged. She reached down and guided the swollen tip of his erection to her entrance. He thrust forward slowly, almost tentatively. Enough to make her cry out again, but not enough to fill her like she needed.
“Please, Raoul,” she moaned. “Don’t hold back. I want to feel all of you.”
He thrust again—harder this time, more sharply. Her eyes squeezed shut and she grabbed onto his broad shoulders. Again. She lifted her leg a little higher, and the next thrust was so deep that stars burst behind her eyelids.
“Yes, yes , keep going.”
Raoul’s left arm wrapped tightly around her waist, pinning her in place as the force of his movements increased. Oh God, she never wanted to stop, this crushing pleasure that pounded through her body with every push, and yet she urged him on, faster, harder, she was so close, so very close…
Raoul’s fingers dug into her hip, and a strangled roar tore from his throat. “Take all of me now. I want to feel you come around my cock.”
His deep, growling command sent a tide sweeping through her, leaving nothing in its wake, sending her spirit soaring to heights until she no longer knew where her body stopped and his began. He kept her there, thrusting and thrusting until he suddenly pulled out, and a warm wetness spurted onto her belly.
Her leg fell back, all her muscles lax, her desire spiraling down, temporarily sated. She turned to lie on Raoul’s heaving chest.
“I’ve been a damn fool,” he grumbled. “Waiting so long to do this.”
Suzanne smiled and stroked the firm ripples of muscle. “Let’s put all that behind us. But now whenever I try to tell you something, just assume I’m right.”