Chapter 7
She had to admit secretly that being home, just the two of them, was amazing.
He woke her up with a pot of tea and some homemade eggnog Mrs. Greene had prepared before she left on her trip. Breakfast was wheat toast, scrambled eggs and bacon and her stomach was cooperating, thankfully.
Afterward they took a long and leisurely bubble bath that turned into something else, with them getting out when the water started cooling.
Dinner was an informal affair eaten near the blazing fire in the living room. Several blankets were spread, and they did justice to the delicious meal that had been catered by one of their favorite French restaurants a few miles away.
The remnants of the meal were placed to one side while they sat and enjoyed the glow of lights from the towering Christmas tree and the fire blazing in the hearth.
“This is lovely," she murmured. She was half lying between his powerful thighs and loved the feel of his masculine chest against her back. They were both wearing matching black silk robes, part of the Christmas present she had bought.
“Hmm.” He felt drunk on contentment and love and the sumptuous meal had not quite digested. As soon as that happened, he had every intention of making love to her.
“Our second Christmas together.” She turned her head to look at him. “Remember last year?”
“My brain is not addled.” He grinned when she pouted. “How could I forget? You wanted to be the perfect wife and were determined to get it right. You were exhausting.”
“I was a new wife, and I was very nervous. We had just gotten married not quite a month ago and that was my first time playing hostess for you and your dad. I was scared to death.”
“You gave the caterers hell.”
She grimaced in remembrance. “They threatened to quit, and I think they would have, if it was not for you and your dad.”
He kissed the top of her head. “We have been using them for years.”
She placed her hands over his where he had wrapped them around her waist.
“You told me that I did not have to do anything.”
“But as usual, you did not listen.”
“The role of hostess was new to me," she protested.
“And I reminded you that all you had to do was just show up.”
“I wanted to do more.”
Bending his head, he kissed her on the lips. “I wanted you to be comfortable.”
“All my doubts and fears came tumbling back and I started wondering if I had made a mistake.”
His expression turned bleak as he recalled the argument. He had gone upstairs to get dressed and found her curled up on the bed, her cheeks stained with tears. Fearing that she was ill, he rushed over and demanded to know what was wrong.
“I don’t belong here," she told him tearfully.
For a minute, he had been taken aback and had no idea where that comment was coming from.
“Huh?”
“This was a mistake. Us, this marriage. I cannot do this.”
He had felt fear like never before. The look on her face had frightened him and he wondered frantically if she was going to leave him. He had gone on the defensive.
“You just want to quit? We have been married, what? A month and you want to call an end to it? Why?”
“I can’t do this.”
“It would help if I knew what the hell it is you cannot do.”
“Stop shouting.”
“I am not shouting!” He had calmed down with difficulty. “What’s going on?”
“I got on the caterers’ nerves. They hate me.”
“You are the woman of the house. They work for us.”
“They told me that they have been doing this for years and I should stay out of the way.” His eyes glittered with anger.
“Then I suppose I am going to have to set them straight. You are my wife, and I will not tolerate anyone disrespecting you.”
“Where are you going?”
“To remind them who is paying their fee.”
“No. Please, don’t. You are going to make things worse.”
He had ignored that and went downstairs to speak to Armand. The big blustery man had humbly apologized to her and promised that it would never happen again.
“Everything okay now?”
“Yes,” She had told him hesitantly.
The memory brought a smile to her face. “Remember when we first met?”
His smile was crooked. “Absolutely. You were wearing a plum-colored gown that left your shoulders and back bare. I saw you from across the room and knew that I had to dance with you.”
“You came over and rudely interrupted the conversation I was having with Richard, my date.”
“That guy was a tool. I couldn’t believe you were with him," he said with a snort.
“I was not exactly with him. I had to go to the function, and he was my plus one.” She rolled her eyes at him. “I saw you marching toward us with that determined look on your face and realized what you were up to.”
“You refused my offer.”
Turning her head, she stared at him with raised brows. “It sounded more like a command, and it got my back up. I knew of your reputation and was determined not to be one of your women.”
His finger trailed over her lush bottom lip. “And I was determined not to give up. I cut in on you and that positively boring guy and gave you no chance.” His eyes darkened. “It was just a challenge at first, but as soon as I took you in my arms, it became more than that. Your scent assailed my nostrils, and I was filled with you.
The dress you had on was scanty up top and you were not wearing a bra. I could feel your nipples like branding irons through my jacket. You felt it too, the shock of awareness that took us both by surprise.”
“I ran away.” She shook her head as she thought back to that night and how frightened and confused she had been.
“I came after you. I knew I had to find out what was going on between us.” “You hauled me into your arms and kissed me forcefully. I felt the sting on my lips.” Her breath was strangled inside her throat.
“You tried to push me away.” He lifted her and repositioned her so that she was lying next to him on the pillows.
“I wouldn’t allow it. Lust like I had never felt before was pouring through my body. I was overwhelmed by it. I had to taste you, and it had to be right then and there.” His trembling hands cupped her face. “You responded with a similar passion, and I thought I had gotten through to you.”
“When I heard sounds of laughter coming from the bushes, I realized what I was doing.” Her hand touched his face. “I wanted to die of embarrassment.”
“You pushed me away and stormed off. When I went looking for you, you had already left. I almost went crazy. I was hard, achingly so and I needed you.” His expression darkened. “You put me through hell. I had to be constantly proving myself to you.”
“Whose fault was that?” she whispered.
“Because of my reputation, you could not believe I could change.”
“No," she admitted. “I called myself all kinds of fool for capitulating.”
His hands drifted to her exposed throat, where her pulse was beating madly. He had felt it that night, when he wrapped his hand around her neck.
“And here we are.”
“Yes.” She parted the lapels of his robe, and he helped her by shrugging it off. Her hands wandered over the golden chest, with the sprinklings of dark gold chest hairs. He reminded her of a magnificent piece of artwork she had seen in one of Jackson’s galleries. “I am glad you were such a persistent pain in the ass.”
“Is that what I was?” He was busy untying the sash on her robe.
“Absolutely. You would not take no for an answer.” Her breath caught in her throat when he cupped her breasts. He watched in fascination as the nipples turned pebble-like.
“Feed me darling," he rasped hoarsely.
“Feel free,” she whispered.
Removing his hands, he suggested that she cupped the sensitive globes and offered them to him. With trembling hands, she did, her back arching when his blonde head bent over her.
His tongue laved over the rigid flesh, moistening it with his saliva. Her body trembled, the heat spiraling downwards to the core of her. She moved restlessly, her body aching for more involvement. But he was determined to take his time.
The taste of her was addictive, an aphrodisiac coursing through his blood stream. His body was ripe and ready, his sex hard and aching, pulsating with life. Tugging the nipple into his mouth, he suckled, sending fiery darts of passion coursing through her veins.
Her head thrashed on the pillows, her body heaving toward his hungry seeking mouth.
He was thorough, taking his fill and driving her to the point of madness. When he switched to the other nipple, she was mindless with need, her body burning with a fever that only he was able to quench.
Her pleas echoed around the room and were ignored. Letting goes of the soaking wet flesh, he applied kisses to her stomach, lingering there. His babies were cradled inside her womb.
His seed had been planted and was taking root and he felt emotions taking charge. He loved her, even when he was mad as hell, he loved her so much, he couldn’t breathe. Placing his hands beneath her hips, he angled her body upwards.
His mouth settled on the dark curls at the apex of her thighs where he nuzzled. Her moans vied with the crackle and pop of the firewood blazing inside the hearth. The brilliant lights from the tree bathed them in glory. But the couple on the blanket were so absorbed with each other that nothing else mattered.
He pressed an open mouth kiss on her swollen flesh and caused her to jump in reaction. Georgie’s fingers curled into the downy softness of the blanket. Her body felt weightless, feverish. Her heart was pounding wildly.
He used the tip of his tongue to invade her womanhood. Her body vibrated with need as she drew her knees up to further aid his questing tongue.
Fireworks exploded inside her body and had her calling out his name. She trembled in ecstasy as the storm threatened to overwhelm her.
He came to her, his long lean body covering hers. With one swift motion, he was embedded deep. A shuddering breath escaped him as he stared down at her. His eyes were light emerald fire blazing into hers. His handsome face was tense with passion.
Bending his head, he whispered love words against her mouth. “Your taste is still in my mouth, on my tongue.” His voice was thick, almost incoherent. “It’s better than honey and fine wine.” His tongue played with her bottom lip, before using his teeth to nibble.
“Beau.” She moved restlessly, trying to get him to do the same. “Not yet," he breathed inside her mouth, and she felt faint.
“Please.”
“Soon.” His tongue darted into the sweet crevice, exploring deftly. He used his teeth and tongue to drive her to distraction.
Georgie dug her fingers into the bunched muscles of his back, her hands wandering restlessly further down until she was gripping his taut butt. He sipped at her lips, enjoying the taste lingering on his tongue. She was sweet, incredibly so, and he realized not for the first time that he could never get enough of her.
He moved then, slowly at first, building up the tempo, until he was driving into her, deep strokes that brought them closer to the stunning climax that always left them weak and far from satisfied.
Her fingers gripped him, and he swallowed the anguished cries coming from her throat. He drove into her faster, the momentum building, until they were both spinning out of control.
They drifted slowly back to earth as they clung to each other. Neither seemed to care that they were both bathed in moisture, their bodies slicked with sweat. Georgie had her face buried in the curve of his throat, her body still shivering from the aftermath of the explosion that had shaken them to the core.
“I am crushing you.” Before she could protest, he was sliding off her. Not wanting to let her go, he pressed her against him, her head resting on his chest. Words were superfluous as usual and for several minutes they laid there in silence, appreciating and marveling at the passion they evoked in each other.
The fire needed rekindling, the lights from the tree casting shadows all around the room. Contentment settled over them and right at that moment, it seemed like nothing could ever pierce the protective love they experienced.
Stirring in his arms, Georgie happened to look up and out the floor to ceiling window. She started in surprise, her glad cry drawing a concerned frown from her husband.
“What?”
“Look!” She nodded toward the window.
When he obliged her by turning his head, he felt a start of surprise.
“My God," he whispered. “Is that snow?”
“Of course it is! Oh Beau! It just made this night even more special.”
And it was. She insisted on making hot chocolate and when she returned with the steaming cups, he had revived the fire by adding some more logs. Taking her hand, he led them to the window where they stared out at the thick snowflakes coming down.
Wrapping his arm around her waist, he sipped hot chocolate and watched the snow coming down in rapid succession. Contentment such as he never experienced before stole over him and he could feel his heart expanding with love for the woman next to him.
He never dreamed he would be part of a scene like this. He was home, with his wife, a woman he loved to death, and it felt wonderful. There was no place he would rather be.
“Tired?” he asked huskily, when she yawned.
“A little.” Using her free hand, she rubbed her stomach lightly.
“Queasy?” he asked anxiously.
“No. I think they appreciate that it’s the season to be merry and accommodating, so they are behaving. I was upset when you told me that I would not be doing the extended family dinner at first, but now I am grateful you did.”
“Aren’t I always, right?”
“Arrogance is not an attractive trait," she told him loftily.
“What about if you are always one hundred percent right?” He grinned when she lifted her head and cast him a dirty look.
“It’s coming down even harder.” She snuggled against him and continued to sip her beverage. “I would like to announce that this is officially the best Christmas I ever had.”
“Ditto," he murmured, hugging her tight.
*****
“Absolutely not. I mean it Georgiana.”
Her eyes only danced mischievously, and he knew that he was going to cave. He had never been able to deny her anything and this morning was no exception. They had gone to sleep with the snow still drifting down rapidly, covering everything in sight and woke up this morning to see the spectacular sight of glaring whiteness everywhere.
The powdery snow was clinging to everything, giving the entire place as far as the eyes could see, an eerie, yet iridescence that was so achingly beautiful, it demanded attention. Hence Georgie’s insistence that they geared up and go outside to make a snowman.
“It’s going to be fun.”
“It can be fun right here in our cozy living room," he pointed out. “The fire is blazing, and we don’t have to stir ourselves to put clothes on.” He sent her a lecherous grin. “As a matter of fact. I prefer it that way.”
“You stay inside and warm your buns. I am going upstairs to get dressed and search for a carrot and some raisins for the eyes.”
“Georgiana!” He might as well save his breath, because his very disobedient and irreverent wife was already out of the room.
Gnashing his teeth in frustration, he considered letting her go off by herself. It would serve her right if she developed frostbite or caught a cold, he fumed. But he knew he was going to follow her out. Shaking his head and muttering deprecations for his weakness where she was concerned, he trooped upstairs to get dressed.
“Meet you outside. Don’t dally.” She laughed as he shot her a murderous look.
By the time he had donned his winter gear and pulled on a watch cap over his head, his wife was already outside.
“You could have waited on me," he muttered, inhaling the sharp icy weather. “I still think we should go back inside," he broke off when a ball of snow hit him squarely in the chest.
“I thought we were supposed to be making a snowman.”
She was heaping snowballs in front of her. “I thought we could warm up with a snow fight.” Another ball hit him in the stomach.
“Stop that.”
“Chicken?” She hit him again, this time in the face. The shock of the ice on his skin stunned him for a minute and had him blinking.
“Darling? Did I hurt you?” Her voice was contrite as she rose and started toward him.
He took that opportunity to scoop snow and balled it into his fist.
“Beau, what–” The words died on her lips as he smashed the snow directly on her face.
His roar of laughter echoed in the early morning when he saw the stunned look on her face.
The laughter died as she spun around and raced toward her arsenal. “You are so going to regret that," she cried.
Before he could lunge for cover, she was pelting him with the balls she had heaped in front of her, hardly giving him time to ward off the attack.
He found cover behind the trunk of a huge oak tree and rapidly built his own weapons.
Within minutes, shrieks and laughter echoed around the vast ground as the couple pelted each other with ice.
“Cry uncle!” he growled, covering her body with his and smashing a handful of snow in her face.
“Uncle!” she gasped.
“Who is your boss?”
When she hesitated, he scooped up more snow threateningly.
“You!”
“Damn right.” Bending, he kissed her roughly, before tenderly wiping the ice from her face.
“Are you cold?”
“No. And I am not leaving until we build the snowman.”
“Then let’s get to it.”
Moments later, they stood wrapped in each other’s arms as they surveyed their handiwork.
“What do you think?” His chin was resting on top of her head.
“I think you are somewhat depraved.”
“Why? Because I was creative?” He scoffed.
“That’s a snow monster. What’s with all the twigs sticking out of its abdomen? And one of the raisins above the other like a- a–”She gestured with one slender hand gloved in ice pink as she sought to find the proper word for what they were staring at. “It’s creepy.”
“It’s a work of art.”
Lifting her head, she cast him a dubious look. “You are not an art lover, are you?”
He gave her a lofty look. “My paintings, the sculptors– the paintings–”
“You said paintings twice.”
“I know.” He kissed her full on the lips. “Besides I am friends with a famous painter and a sculptor.”
“That doesn’t count. Still says it’s weird.”
“It’s magnificent," he concluded. “Now, darling of mine, it’s getting cold as hell–”
“Hell is not cold.”
“What?”
“You said cold as hell. It’s actually the opposite–” She laughed as he glowered, the laughter turning to shrieks when he hoisted her up and over his shoulder.
“I know one way to shut you up," he growled.
And he did shut her up for several long minutes, until she was melting and pleasantly exhausted in his arms. They were snuggled together, drinking hot chocolate smothered in whipped cream. The fire was blazing in the hearth and the room was cozy. It felt wonderful to be alive and with someone she loved.
“We are blessed.”
“What?”
“We are truly blessed," she repeated. Putting aside her cup, she turned into his arms.
“You are my best friend. When I first saw you in person, I thought to myself that there goes someone with limited brain cells–”
“What? You said that about me?”
She laughed at the wounded look on his handsome face.
“That’s objectifying. What if I said the same thing about you?” he gestured to her, “You are an exquisite woman. What if I thought there was no substance beneath all that allure?”
She pretended to consider it. “I don’t see it.”
“But yet you looked at me and decided then and there that I was stupid.”
“Not stupid, really, just a pretty face with nothing behind it.”
“Was that why you refused to dance with me?”
“One of the reasons. I also thought you were an entitled prick.”
“Thanks," he muttered.