Chapter 33
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Sebastian cradled Aurelia in his arms. A small, cynical part of him had been sure she would storm away, insisting on sleeping separately from him as she sought new ways of punishing him. Rightly, too. He had been a fool, and he had hurt her, and for that, he would endure an eternity’s atonement.
Just not losing her again. Never that.
She tipped her head back up to peek at him, and without thinking, he kissed her. For a second, she tensed, her lips tight against his, and he felt certain he had ruined the moment already.
Then she relaxed, opening her mouth to him, and the world suddenly steadied.
It was as though she had become his anchor, and without her, he drifted seaward.
But when he had her here, with him, kissing him back as though she had needed him all this time as much as he needed her, everything made sense again.
He made sense again.
The only way he could ever be whole was with her, and the fact that he hadn’t known this when he first met her felt absurd. How could he not have looked at her and known she was his future?
“I’m so sorry for everything I did to hurt you,” he breathed against her mouth. “Can you forgive me?”
“You said we were starting over.” She looked up at him, adorably serious. “So there is nothing to forgive.”
Right. Starting over. He looked down into his wife’s face, wondering what his life might have been like if he had done this when she’d first arrived. Giving himself over to the inevitable.
“My lady,” he stressed, taking her hand and kissing the back of it with as much grace as he could muster. “It is an honor to have you here.”
“In your bedchamber or on your lap?”
“Oh—right.” He gently set her down on the edge of the bed. “An honor to have you at my home, and my life.” He bowed elegantly. “I am delighted to make your acquaintance.”
Aurelia’s eyes danced with an unspoken laugh as she rose and stepped back, appearing to view his room for the first time.
She glided through the space as though she were in an elegant dress rather than his clothes—but he had to confess, he liked the look of his clothes on her.
She was slender, drowned in his shirt, but her hips caught the material of his breeches, drawing attention to her shapely legs.
His primary motivation had been to get her warm and dry, but he couldn’t deny how much he preferred seeing her in his clothes. His wife—the need to claim her was near primal in him.
He had almost lost her. Now, he needed to make her his in every way.
“What a charming room,” she gasped with a dainty hand to her bosom as she made her way to the bed, hips swaying. He stared, transfixed by the sight of her rounded derrière. “I gather I am to spend some time here…”
“If it pleases you,” he rasped in near torment at the self-control it required to maintain this silly facade.
She glanced back at him, arching a single brow. “And if it doesn’t please me?”
“Then explain whatever issues you have, and I will do my best to resolve them promptly,” he answered quickly. “Your comfort is of my primary importance.”
“I… see.” He caught the edge of her smile as she turned back around. “Well, I’m very pleased to hear that. Perhaps I would like to stay here after all.”
“I’m very glad to hear it.” He approached her from behind; he saw the moment she registered his proximity by the way she stiffened, but when she tossed him another coy glance over her shoulder, he took that as permission to take hold of her hips, guiding her back to where he was hard for her.
“You make me feel out of my mind,” he murmured seductively in her ear.
“Desperate for you. Sometimes I wonder if this is normal. For a man to be so consumed by his wife, he can think of little else.” He caught his breath as she deliberately rubbed herself against him.
“And then I think that it doesn’t matter, not in the slightest, because why would I ever need another desire except to be close to you? ”
He leaned down and nipped her ear. “I want this marriage to work,” he whispered. “Whatever it takes.”
She twirled in his arms, glancing up at him beneath fluttering lashes. “Then let us make a marriage that will work.”
“But first.” He pushed gently at her shoulders until she fell back on the bed.
“And forgive my crudeness, sweetheart, but I find myself rather insatiable as of present. I need to taste you.” He tried, desperately so, to keep the raw hunger from his voice, but she must have sensed it, because her fingers grazed his cheekbones, and she simply nodded once.
“You may do as you please to me.”
He growled a little under his breath as he throbbed. “You may yet regret telling me that.”
She whispered in challenge, “Then ensure that I do not, good sir.”
With a groan, he tore down her breeches, her challenge clear in his head. She wanted him to do as he chose—yet only as far as she desired, reading her body to see if she was enjoying this as much as he.
A test, of sorts.
He would pass it.
He skimmed his fingers along the bare, goose-pimpled skin of her thighs.
He wanted her naked, but for now, he was content enough with this: access to the forbidden.
A sense that she was letting him where she would let no other man.
It didn’t matter that he had been here before, and he hoped to be here again.
What mattered was that now, she was letting him there.
“You have bewitched me,” he snarled, kissing first one inner thigh, then the other. He could smell her arousal, musky and full of need, and it made his cock twitch. “Body and soul. I am yours, Aurelia.”
Her hands curled into his hair, encouraging him forward, and he leaned in to take his first taste of her.
A matter of days, perhaps—it had not been long at all since he had last tasted her.
But after everything that had occurred, both between them and elsewhere, it felt as though it had been a lifetime.
Maybe two.
And he had finally come home.
She tasted delectable; he would never have his fill of her, not even if he feasted here for days.
“Sebastian…” Her nails scraped his scalp. He sucked her into his mouth, and she shuddered. Bit by bit, he compelled her to fall apart, until she was crying out around him, and he could taste her climax on his tongue.
Devil take it, he had needed that.
Slowly, he withdrew and emerged from under her like a savage beast entailed to pleasure. She lay back against the bed, her crystal eyes glossy in her face, her cheeks flushed.
“I love you,” he told her, because he hadn’t told her enough—hadn’t realized it soon enough to have told her, and that was a travesty.
Then she smiled, and although they had not resolved anything—not by a long shot, he knew it would take a lot more of his time reassuring her and convincing her that she was what he wanted—he knew he was well on his way to being forgiven.
“I know,” she whispered. “I love you too.”
Aurelia hadn’t meant to say the words just yet, even though she had thought she had for a while. She had intended to make him wait for it, work for it a little harder.
But what was the point?
She opened her arms to him, and he came to her immediately, kissing her cheek instead of her lips, presumably so she wouldn’t taste herself on his mouth. His clothed body settled against hers, shirt against shirt, and his arousal pressed right against the bare, sensitive flesh between her legs.
She shuddered at the feel of him. That was one thing she had always been able to say, before anything else: he desired her. Even from the very beginning, he had desired her.
That alone was never enough, of course, but it was not alone anymore.
She rolled her hips, and he grunted, his smile curving against her cheek. “Very well, my sweet new wife. Do you care for more?”
“I want everything,” she gasped.
“Then you shall have it.” He looked back down at her until she met his gaze, and cupped her cheek in his hand. “Everything I have is yours.”
She shook her head desperately. “I don’t need everything you have. I just want you.”
“And you have me. Body and soul.” He reached down to free himself from the breeches she had so recently offered to him, and with no more preparation, he plunged inside her.
The initial rush of pleasure was almost too much for her to take.
She arched her back as she gasped, barely able to breathe beyond the fullness.
He filled her, made her feel complete. For the first time since the dinner—since they went to London, since perhaps even before then—she felt as though she belonged.
With him, to him.
This was more than just making love: he was staking his claim on her.
She wore his shirt. He fondled her breasts through the material until her nipples stood hard against the fabric, then leaned back so he could admire them. His shirt smelled of him, and he was everywhere—inside her, all around her, his weight pressing her into the mattress.
That knowledge alone was delicious.
“I love you,” she gasped again as he brought a hand underneath her hips, raising her to meet him for each thrust. He was so deep inside her, claiming every single part of her and committing it to pleasure. “I love you so much… it scares me to lose you.”
He caught her face between both hands, holding her there so he could gaze seriously into her eyes, his body stilling on hers. “You will never lose me, Aurelia,” he told her, leaning down to brush his lips lightly against hers. “Never.”
The kiss wasn’t enough for Aurelia—she leaned up and pressed her mouth more firmly against his.
A sigh fell from her at the way he returned her kiss.
Sea salt and cedar. They were one, united in this primal way, and she felt as though nothing could ever break them apart again.
This wasn’t merely physical—it was more than that, transformative in a way, as though they were emerging somewhere new, being remade through each other.
Like this, she believed they would be all right.
Husband and wife. There were still some things to resolve, but she had the first glimmer of hope that there was light at the end of the tunnel.
They would make their way through this—there was no way they could not when he felt like this inside her, when he kissed her with such ferocity, when his hands were so gentle on her skin.
His tempo increased, pushing into her, and she wrapped her legs around him, urging him on. They were connected, every part of them, and that was what mattered.
She held on for dear life, and he held her as though he needed her.
When he broke, she felt as though part of her chest broke with him, a sweeping tide that took them both with it. He groaned, emptying herself in her, and she canted her hips, welcoming him in as deep as she could.
She imagined she could feel him pulsing inside her.
They were one.
He didn’t move for a long time, braced on his elbows above her so he wouldn’t crush her with his weight. His lips ghosted hers, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, closing her eyes.
Tomorrow, they would work on repairing this thing they had broken, but tonight she would live in the moment with him.
He brushed her hair back from her face. “Will you please stay with me tonight?”
If she wanted, she could go back to her bedchamber and sleep there, alone. He would let her. He would understand if she needed more time. And some part of her wondered if she should need more time.
But the crux of the matter was that she loved him. Deeply, madly, wildly, and even though she had been hurt, and still was, she was going to forgive him. She had already forgiven him.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I’ll stay with you tonight. I’ll stay with you every night.”
He kissed her one last time before rolling off. His shirt hung around his hips as he searched for something to clean them both with, and she watched him walk about the room, her chest swelling full.
“I’ll call for dinner,” he said. “We’ll eat here. Make love again. And perhaps again. I won’t be done with you until morning. Or the next day. Or the rest of my life.”
Aurelia smiled to herself, staring at the ceiling, content. He loved her—he loved her. All the rest would come with time. And time was one thing they had plenty of: they had a lifetime full of it.
“Tomorrow,” she murmured, “We can travel to Mary Ann’s and retrieve my things. And then…”
He arched a brow at her. “And then?”
“And then we will begin the rest of our lives.”