Chapter Four #3
Her breath fluttered against his cheek as he bent his head closer, grazing kisses along her jaw. He felt her trembling. She wanted him.
Him. Just as he was. For Mad, he was enough.
“I—”
He dropped his mouth over hers, sliding his tongue into her mouth to plunder, and her protest turned to a moan. She sagged in his arms. Delicious Mad. She tasted like cinnamon.
“I have something for you,” he said against her lips.
She melted ever so slightly, draping her body against him, her belly soft against his cock. He was so hard for her, he’d burst a seam in his breeches if he wasn’t careful.
“I see that,” she murmured.
He dangled a berry of mistletoe before her nose. “I stole this from the kissing bough. It means I might claim a kiss from you.”
She blinked, hazy. “You just did.”
“A kiss wherever I please.”
“I don’t think—oh.”
He scooped one of her perfect breasts from the drawstring bodice of her gown and pulled the nipple into his mouth.
Her breath stuttered and she pressed against him as he sucked.
Her body was hot and pliant. Desire spread over her like wildfire; he could see it in her flushed skin, smell it in the warm scent that rose from her.
Mad’s arousal was delicious and maddening. He needed her now. Now.
She was an innocent. He couldn’t just throw her down and take her, though he wanted to. The bed was a Chippendale, the four posters elegantly carved, the hanging canopy embroidered with some exquisite leafy design. It was a sumptuous bed chamber, made for luxury, for seduction, for pleasure.
He pulled up the hem of her gown and slid his hand within the warm recesses.
Her skin was an unending field, the silk of flower petals, smooth and rounded and supple.
He squeezed and sucked hard on her other breast. She writhed against him, letting her legs part, and he slid a finger to the wet, warm place he sought. She was eager and ready.
“I have something else in my pocket.” His voice grated, rough in his chest.
“It appears you do.”
She pressed against him. She couldn’t help it. Hers was the seeking of an innocent. He wanted to give her what she craved. He wanted to be the one to teach her how mindless, how consuming passion could be.
“Another berry.” He nipped and licked at her nipple. “So I get another kiss.”
“But you already—”
“Here.” He pressed his finger to the bud between her legs, already hard and begging for him.
She panted against his mouth when he kissed her again. “You can’t.”
“I can.”
“It isn’t—it can’t—”
“Let me show you, Mad. Let me be your first.”
The silk of the open robe pooled around her as he pressed her back on the bed. The muslin of her gown skimmed her legs like cream. He knelt on the rug and pressed her knees apart.
“I’m not supposed to,” she whispered.
“You can do anything you like, with me.” He skimmed the soft curls at her apex, slid his fingers along the slick folds, learning her contours. Then he blew a breath on the tender skin, and she whimpered.
She pressed her hands over her eyes, and he growled. “Watch me.”
“I can’t—I don’t—” She went completely still when he put his mouth on her. “Oh.”
She was so responsive to him, so open. Garrick feared he was going to spill in his breeches just from the sounds she made as he administered this most intimate kiss.
Mad’s body was an instrument designed for his hands, his mouth.
She let him know what pleased her, surrendering, lifting, and in no time at all he had her strung as tight as a bow, vibrating, on the cusp.
And then he sent her crashing over, reveling in the tiny bud pulsing between his lips while her body shook around him and he knew he’d done it.
Broken through her last defenses. Shown her how it would be between them. Why she belonged to him.
“I…” She didn’t have words, merely stared at the design on the canopy as he stretched out on the bed beside her. Garrick couldn’t keep the smugness out of his tone.
“I’ll make it like that all the time, Mad. I promise.”
She was so beautiful, and such a contradiction, her hair tightly coiled, her gown properly pinned, her body still humming with the force of her climax. He tugged her gown over her knees and fondled her breasts back into her bodice. He felt the triumph of conquest. She was his now. Completely.
“We should return so we aren’t missed. But I want you to know I will walk around all night with your taste on my lips. And I hope you’ll remember my mouth on you every time some bloke is boasting to you, trying to get your attention.”
She turned those hazy eyes to him and sat up. Her lips were full and well-kissed, but her eyes were troubled as her gaze wandered down his body. She considered his prominent erection.
“You didn’t—”
“We’ll deal with me later. I couldn’t go one more night without touching you.”
This was the kind of declaration that should have rendered her to melted butter. She should be thinking of nothing but how soon she could get him to pleasure her again.
He was willing to let it be very, very soon. Again tonight, if she wanted.
She stood and shook out her gown, tilted her head as she regarded him.
“You know something about Constantin that you’re not telling me.”
He froze, as if drenched with cold water. He stood to face her. “Why do you think that?”
She swiped at her cheek, angrily, as if a tear were threatening to spill over. “Barty was corresponding with someone for us. That’s why I was sneaking through your desk, you dolt. But you won’t tell me what he found, or what you know.” She sniffled. “I cannot trust you.”
“Mad.” Her words rent his heart. “You can. You can.”
“I cannot!” she cried. “You’ve been gone for years. I don’t know you at all anymore, Garrick. I loved you when I was a girl, yes. Madly. With my whole heart. But we are not those children anymore.” She wiped her cheeks with both hands. “We’ve grown up. Grown apart.”
“Mad, no.” His heart raced. He’d been waiting for her all this time. Waiting for himself to grow up, it was true. To be the man worthy of her. “You asked me before. I’m saying yes.”
“I proposed a silly arrangement where I would have your name and require nothing else of you. I thought…I don’t know. That I could win you by faithfulness alone. I know now how stupid I was to dream that.”
She turned and headed for the door, the train of her gown whispering over the carpet.
“I can’t do it, Garrick. I can’t be the wife who is left behind while you go merrily about with your women.
And I won’t be like the Duchess of Devonshire, either, permitting your mistress to live in our house.
Making her my bosom friend because I don’t have your esteem and your love. ”
He stalked toward her, heat flushing through him. He didn’t choose his next words wildly; blind need pressed upon him to make her see. Mad was his. His.
“You want me. I will show you.”
She lifted her chin, her cheeks stained with tears and her eyes flashing mutiny. “I am quite done with other people telling me what I want. I will choose for myself, thank you very much.”
She curled her hands into fists and stared at him. Candlelight flickered in her eyes, revealing the anguish there. “I might want you all I like. But I can’t have you. I doubt any woman can.”
She flung open the door and glided through it like Aphrodite abandoning a lover, a cloud of silk and cream and sensual woman. The scent of her lingered in the room.
Garrick looked about the room, where the empty air vibrated with a sense of loss. Then he took the only route available to him.
He left, too.