Chapter 16 #3
Desperate as he was, he paused for a moment to regard his wife, who appeared to have expired on the mattress. Her lower half was still exposed, her skirts bunched up about her waist, her legs dangling off the bed. Her head was turned to one side, her arms flung out wide. Had she fainted?
“Meg?”
He reached out and stroked her cheek and her eyes opened, smoky grey meeting his and then drifting down over his bare chest. They darkened, giving the appearance of storm clouds gathering as she gazed at him.
She did not speak, but lifted her arms, an invitation he was not about to refuse.
With fingers that refused to work as they ought, he rid himself of the rest of his clothes and climbed onto the bed.
Meg sat up, her previous incapacity disappearing as she saw him naked for the first time. After a moment of hesitation, she reached out, a tentative finger touching his nipple. Nat bit back a groan, so desperate that he felt the touch jolt through him like he’d been hit by lightning.
“Meg,” he whispered, pulling her into his arms and realising with frustration she still had her dress on. Not to worry. Too late now. He didn’t have the patience to wait.
Nat kissed her, sliding his hands into her hair and wishing he’d taken the pins out—later. He’d do that later too. He rolled her onto her back.
Meg gasped as he thrust into her and Nat winced, remembering he’d been supposed to be careful. He stilled, though the effort to do so felt like torture.
“Darling,” he said, though trying to form words in his lust-addled brain was not the easiest task. “Hurt?”
“No,” she breathed, pulling him closer. “Not at all.”
Nat let out a sound of relief and reminded himself to breathe. It was not a simple thing to remember, especially not when he looked down and saw her gazing up at him, such trust in her eyes, such adoration.
“I love you,” he managed, and kissed her.
Any remaining tension in her dissipated at his words, and she became pliant beneath him. He almost wept with relief, for he was beside himself with the desire to move. Lifting his head to see her reaction, he eased out of her and thrust inside again.
She gasped, her eyes flying open to stare at him.
“Better?” he asked, delighting in the wonder he saw in her expression.
“Yes. Very… Oh! Oh!” she sighed and closed her eyes, her head thrown back and the urge to kiss her neck was too sweet to deny.
“How lovely, don’t stop… Oh, those Greeks knew what they were talking about,” she murmured.
Nat laughed, helpless with love and desire.
She was everything and more, more than he could ever have dreamed of wanting, let alone having.
He revelled in the little noises she made, whispered sighs and soft moans as her hands moved over him, exploring with surprising boldness, delighting in her discovery of him and holding nothing back.
Try as he might, he could not make it last forever.
Too soon the crisis was upon him and, though he never wanted it to end, there was no way he could resist. She felt too good, it was too wonderful, too perfect to fight against, and so he rushed on, nearer and nearer.
But he wanted her with him, wanted them to fall together.
So he slid his hand between them, seeking out the hidden place and caressing, circling, and praying she would hurry.
“Meg,” he said, struggling to remember how to speak. “Meg, I… I can’t… please….”
He shattered, his body surrendering to a burst of intense joy.
The cry startled from him was guttural and harsh.
Meg made a small sound, her hands clutching at his back as she trembled beneath him, pulsing around him and sending him higher still.
Heaven held him suspended in soft darkness, stars glittering then fading into the velvety black, leaving him utterly boneless.
He huffed out a breath of deep content, vaguely aware he must be crushing her, and made a half-hearted attempt to shift his body, but she held on, keeping her with him.
“Stay,” she whispered
Nat snorted with amusement, for he could barely move, but subsided.
They lay together for a long moment, the only sound their breathing as it grew steadier.
“Is… Is that… usual?” she asked cautiously.
With a supreme effort, Nat lifted himself onto one elbow and looked down at her. “Certainly not. It’s never been like that before. That was just for you, Meg. I couldn’t have that with anyone else but you.”
She smiled, and closed her eyes, content.
“You’re still dressed,” he observed ruefully.
“Don’t care. Too sleepy,” she said, not opening her eyes.
“I’ll see to it,” he told her, forcing his unwilling limbs into action. Pressing a kiss to her lips, he climbed off her and turned her this way and that, undoing the hooks of her gown and pulling it off, before dealing with her stays and finally the chemise.
She lay back again, in a state of abandon, completely at ease before him as Nat gazed upon her splendid breasts.
Desire uncoiled more as heat surged beneath his skin, but he forced it down.
There was time enough. They had all the time in the world.
For now, he’d be a gentleman if it killed him—entirely possible—and give her a moment to recover.
Carefully, he turned down the bed on his side before lifting her over onto the mattress, and then got in on the far side, pulling the covers up over them both. As he eased closer, he heard a soft snore and frowned.
With amusement, Nat gazed down at his beautiful wife and discovered she had fallen asleep.
She sighed, a sound of such contentment that it hit him square in the chest. He had done that. He had made her happy, made her feel safe and loved. It was undoubtedly the finest and best thing he had ever done, and he never intended to stop.