Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
This is nothin’ like before.
Emilie sucked in a breath, allowing everything about the moment to wash over her. Archer’s mouth was warm against hers, moving in time with her own lips in an unhurried motion.
Every time they had kissed before, it had been hurried. It had been the action of something primal and desperate. But this did not feel like that.
Emilie leaned forward, plastering herself against her husband, allowing his mouth and his tongue to claim her entirely. The kiss was slow, it was deliberate. And it was filled with more passion and fire than she had yet to experience.
A moan rose in her throat, vibrating through her chest as Archer’s hand began to roam. His tongue darted out, swirling into Emilie’s own mouth.
She wanted more. She needed more.
Desire coursed through her, hot and fierce and more alluring than anything she had ever known.
Emilie threw back her head, breaking their kiss to give him access to her throat. Archer bent further, kissing along her jaw and down the column of her neck.
His breath tickled her skin, causing goosebumps to erupt and her hands to clench in the fabric of his shirt.
“Eager thing, aren’t ye?” he growled, his lips moving against Emilie’s flesh as he spoke.
But Emilie could not reply. She was so caught up in the feeling of what was happening to her, of what was being done to her.
Her mind had fled in its entirety.
As far as Emilie was concerned, she had no mind. She was nothing more than the roiling, twisting ball of lust that had formed in the low hollows of her stomach.
She clenched her thighs together, suddenly desperate to feel some sort of friction as Archer’s hands roved up over her navel.
One of his large palms came up to cup her breast, squeezing and prodding it while he used his other to dip her chin back down and bring his lips to hers. Their kiss deepened, so hot and so fierce that it wrenched the breath from her lungs.
“Archer,” she breathed, moving her mouth against her husband’s as his hands explored every inch of her body.
He growled at the sound of her panting his name, and then, he moved.
Archer bent low, his strong arms coming up to cup behind Emilie’s thighs. He lifted her, wrapping her legs around him.
The act pushed up the fabric of her dress, bringing her delicate center to rest against a bulge beneath his kilt.
Emilie’s flesh burned. Everything that was happening was too much and not enough, all at the same time. She needed more, craved it like she craved air to breathe.
And yet, she was terrified to reach out and take it.
It turned out, however, that she did not have to. Not while Archer began to walk, holding Emilie with her legs wrapped around his middle.
She shifted against him as he moved, the delicious sensation of it having Emilie moving her hips, chasing the feeling that was welling up inside her.
“I need ye,” Archer growled against her mouth, pausing only to settle her down onto a wooden desk on the other side of the room.
He had perched her on the edge of it, allowing him to maintain his contact with her. He kissed her harder, panting into her mouth.
Emilie startled as Archer’s hands reached down, rubbing up her legs beneath the fabric of her skirt. His fingertips left small fires in their wake, tracing the path from her ankle to her knee. And then continuing.
When his fingers reached the apex of her thighs, Emilie stilled, stopping their kiss. Archer paused as well, the tips of his fingers rubbing tauntingly along the edge of her most private parts.
“Tell me ye want me,” he growled, his voice washing over her like liquid honey. “Tell me ye need me.”
Emilie gulped, but his words had reached a deeper level of desire that hadn’t yet been unleashed.
“I want ye,” Emilie panted, running her hands up and down her husband’s back. “I need ye.”
Archer growled, his fingers toying along the edges of her most private parts as he dropped to his knees in front of her.
Emilie’s hands left him, gripping the edges of the desk. Rustling filled the air as Archer lifted her skirts, hiking them up past her knees and then her thighs.
He didn’t stop until it was hiked all the way up to her waist. Emilie barely had time to process what was happening before Archer’s mouth descended on her skin.
He kissed along the delicate insides of her thighs, making Emilie feel so on fire, so filled with need, she felt she might crawl out of her flesh.
One of her hands came up, fisting in Archer’s hair. Her hips bucked of their own accord, chasing after something Emilie didn’t quite understand.
A low chuckle rumbled through her husband, and it tugged at something deep in her core. He began to move, his kisses dancing along her thighs, higher and higher until they reached right where his fingers had been stroking.
He used his hands to part her, and Emilie’s face flushed with heat. She had never been this exposed, had never imagined that it would be possible to revel in someone that close to her, how it might feel powerful and intoxicating.
Archer growled, the path of his mouth finally reaching the apex of her thighs, and he descended on her. His mouth fell upon the very center of her, his tongue darting out to lick between her folds.
Every nerve in Emilie’s body fired at once, lighting up like the night sky, and all she could do was throw back her head. Spurred on by her moans, Archer began to feast on her.
His mouth worked her over, kissing and licking and sucking all in kind.
Emilie spiraled in on herself, becoming nothing more than a being of pure pleasure, pure light. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined that it could feel like this.
Archer continued what he was doing, his tongue darting out to circle and toy with the most delicate part of her. He lapped at her in long, languid strokes.
A tug began in her belly, something calling to her that had Emilie throwing back her head and closing her eyes. She called out Archer’s name, more of a prayer than anything, as her body wound itself tight.
What is this? What is happenin’ to me?
Emilie could barely think, could barely do anything except for focus on the roiling mass of pleasure at the very center of her being. And it was growing every second.
Finally, when Emilie was convinced that she couldn’t stand another moment of what was happening to her, everything came crashing down. Wave after wave of pleasure had her body wringing itself into spasms.
Her breath came in sharp, shallow gasps as everything within her tensed, her climax finding her.
Emilie called out something, but she didn’t know what. She was too far gone. Too lost in the pleasure that had taken over her entirely.
Archer continued to lap at her, continued his work between her thighs with little regard to the shattering pleasure that was working its way through her.
Slowly, so slowly that Emilie could barely tell it was happening at first, the pleasure began to recede. The waves became smaller, the spasms farther and farther apart.
Her breath began to return to her, and just as quickly as everything had come over her, it started to fade.
Spots danced in her vision as she finally opened her eyes, blinking down at her husband.
Archer was still kneeling before her, but his mouth was no longer pressed against her. He was staring up at her from between her thighs, gray eyes dancing as a self-satisfied smirk tugged up the corners of his lips.
Emilie chuckled despite herself.
“Ye look as happy as a pig in mud,” she mumbled.
“Any man would be happy when feastin’ on his favorite meal.”
Archer winked up at her, moving so that he could push himself up to standing.
As he moved, a glint of the light flickered off the wetness on his lips, drawing Emilie’s eyes directly to it. She stared at it for a moment, trying to figure out what it was.
It’s me wetness. It’s from me.
Emilie’s heart plummeted, the realization of what she’d just done washing over her. She glanced down, immediately spotting her skirts still hiked up around her waist.
And right there, plain as day and still exposed to the world beyond, were the most private, delicate parts of herself.
The part of herself that no nun should ever allow a man to touch.
Emilie’s stomach lurched, heat flooding her cheeks as tears pricked at her eyes.
“Nay,” Emilie breathed, the word meant entirely for herself as she shoved off the desk, sending her dress falling back down around her ankles where it belonged.
“Nay what?” Archer asked.
His voice was still lighthearted, letting her know that he had no clue the change that had just overtaken her. He reached out, his arms encircling her and moving to pull her toward him, but Emilie protested.
She wished that she could step back, that she could easily put distance between them. But the desk was still at her back, and his arms were on either side of her.
“Nay,” she said again, her voice breaking on the word.
Her hands flew up, and Emilie noticed they were shaking as she placed them on Archer’s chest. Pushing slightly, Emilie created enough space for her to slip past him, creating the distance she so desperately craved.
Emilie whirled, turning back to glance at her husband’s face.
Archer was standing exactly where she had left him, a few feet away, his brows knit together in confusion. His eyes, which a moment ago had been shining and lighter than she had ever seen them, seemed darker now. Like shutters had been pulled across them, blocking her out.
I have to leave. I need to get out of here. I need to be alone.
“I’m goin’ to our chambers,” Emilie announced, her voice still shaking.
Archer nodded, and when Emilie started to turn and walk away, she saw him start to walk with her. She shook her head, turning to face him once more.
“Daenae follow me,” she commanded, her voice a bit stronger than it had been a second before. “I need to be alone.”
“Are ye certain?” Archer asked. “Are ye all right?”
She didn’t know how to answer that. Shame had begun to fill her.
Emilie could not believe that she had done that, could not believe that she had given this man before her access to the delicate parts of herself that the Lord commanded her to keep hidden.
She needed to think. She needed to clear her head. And, most importantly, she needed to get away from her husband.
“I’m goin’ to our chambers alone,” she said again, knowing that it wasn’t an actual answer to his question, but it was the only response she was currently prepared to give. “Please, daenae follow me.”
She stared hard at Archer, watching as his Adam’s apple bobbed. After a brief pause, one where he studied her hard, he gave her a nod.
Gratitude mingled with the shame coursing through her, and Emilie turned on her heel. She strode from the room, the sound of her boots echoing on the stone floor.
When she finally stepped through the threshold, closing the door to the drawing room behind her, something inside her unclenched, and the tears that she’d been working to hold back finally began to fall.