Viscount in Love (Accidental Brides #1)

Chapter 30

The bathtub in the viscountess’s water closet was made of brass with high, curving sides. It featured the astonishing luxury

of running water warmed by the kitchen fire, and even better, a drain, but it was only big enough for one.

“We could put in a larger tub.” Torie cleared her throat. “Perhaps I could help you bathe, the way women did when... when

their husbands returned from war.”

Dom glanced at her, eyes amused. “Without belittling your feelings, Torie, I assure you that I am a master swordsman. Those

men were ignorant louts, and two of them ran off at the sight of my blade.”

“Did anyone see what was happening and come help you?”

“There was no need for that,” he said with irritating nonchalance.

All sorts of things went through Torie’s mind, including the way a man with a pistol could take down a man with a rapier.

Her breath turned ragged, and a sob forced its way up her throat.

“Torie.” Dom swooped down on her, and then he was finally kissing her, licking at her mouth as if she couldn’t open to him fast enough.

He tasted like himself. Like home and safety.

She pushed those thoughts away, because the idea of being in love with her husband was so new and perhaps merely the result

of a fevered mind after the attack. Love had nothing to do with the fever gripping them at the moment.

She pulled off his coat, and he ripped her gown in his haste to take it off—not that it mattered, because she never wanted to see these clothes again. In fact, she made him dump everything, including their boots and undergarments, outside the door.

“I’ll have to stay in this room forever,” Dom said, his voice an aching growl. “I can’t walk down the corridor to my chamber

stark naked.”

“I’ll lend you a chemise,” Torie said, giggling. “Into the tub.”

“You first.”

She shook her head. “Conquering heroes are bathed first. I’m sure that’s what happened to Odysseus, once Penelope recognized

him.”

Dom’s eyes took on a wicked glint that she was beginning to recognize. “As I understand it, Greek heroes were bathed and then

rubbed in oil.”

“I can rub you all over,” Torie said. Her eyes slid over his heavily muscled thigh. “It would be a pleasure, as long as you

don’t mind smelling like jasmine.”

“Better if I anoint you,” he said, eyes somber and laughing at the same time. He began kissing her again, his tongue slow

and sweet. In the end, Torie tumbled into the tub first and Dom rubbed her all over with soap, exploring every curve and dimple

until she was putty in his hands. His deep voice crooned promises that would have sent a respectable matron into hysterics.

Soon she was desperate for him, moans erupting from her mouth, her eyes squeezed tightly shut so that she could concentrate

on the wicked hands going everywhere. Tweaking her nipples, running between her legs, teasing her here, then there, until

her skin felt as if it were on fire.

“Open your eyes, Torie.” Dom’s voice turned to a rough command. “I need to know if you’re too sore to make love.”

She rolled her head on the bathtub’s curved back. “I’m fine.”

“Torie.”

She opened her eyes. “I could be better .” She gave the word a suggestive emphasis.

He frowned. “Please keep your eyes open.”

She tensed as a large finger pushed inside her, but the soreness melted away, and a wild cry broke from her mouth. Dom froze.

“No, no,” she gasped, catching his wrist so he couldn’t leave her, couldn’t move that finger. “It’s good, it feels so good.”

He began talking again, words tumbling out in that harsh growl that she was learning to love—no, she pushed the question of

love away. He was saying what he wanted and expected from her, what she wanted and expected.

A second broad finger joined the first, pushing deep, and pleasure wrenched her hips into an arc. He bent over the tub, kissing

her mouth in a swiping caress, and Torie threw her arms around his neck, heedless of sloshing water. Dom’s free hand curved

under her arse. His fingers moved deeper, flexing, and that was it.

Heat shot down her body, sparking through her limbs like lightning as she contracted around his fingers. In a daze, she caught

a growled “ravenous,” but was he talking about him or her?

Slowly, the pleasure drifted off, and Torie came back to herself, whimpering as his fingers withdrew because she still felt

empty and needful.

She lay with her head back on the tub, breathing in gasps, boneless, her body languid with pleasure. Finally she opened her eyes. Dom’s huge shoulders were bent over the bath, one hand effortlessly supporting her body.

“Not enough,” he whispered roughly. “Not enough for you, was it?”

His other hand was soothing her now, gliding over her skin under the water, caressing her breasts, her nipples, the curve

of her belly, the tender folds behind her knees.

“No,” Torie whispered, her voice rough because she may have screamed. She couldn’t remember, hadn’t known.

Dom straightened, plucking her out of the bath as if she weighed no more than a child. Torie wasn’t thinking straight, her

mind fragmented between memories of pleasure and an aching wish for more.

She slung a wet arm around his neck. “It’s your turn to take a bath.”

“I’m sorry,” he rasped, his voice hard. “You’ll have to take me as I am.”

“I like the way you smell,” she reminded him.

He put her gently on her back on the bed, and Torie expected him to brace himself on his elbows.

Instead, he pulled her legs to the edge of the bed and went to his knees, pushing her thighs apart. Torie gasped and raised

her head. All she could see was tousled hair and fingers gripping her thighs as he licked her.

“I can’t,” she protested. “I couldn’t do that again. I couldn’t. Not without you.”

“You can,” Dom stated, his voice drenched with arrogant competence . “You’ll do exactly what I want, because you want it too. I want you to scream again, Torie. I want you to lose your voice, because you’re desperate and begging me.”

“But Dom,” she gasped. Heat began seeping through her again.

“I’m on my knees before you, Torie. This is going to happen. ”

Her mouth shaped a curse that no lady would air. But then, no lady would be lying like this, legs held wide by a man’s elbows

so that he could lick every fold of her most private and secret parts.

“Greedy little cunny,” he muttered, starting to talk against her flesh.

Her hands wound into his hair. “Like that,” he ordered. “Just like that, Torie. When you’re on your knees in front of me,

I’m going to take your hair and move your head so you’re exactly where I want you to be.”

Torie had always been good at taking instructions. She pulled him closer, closer, until his tongue lashed her in just the

right spot.

She did scream. And she did go hoarse. And she did do everything her husband wanted her to do.

But then, he was doing everything she wanted him to do.