Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
O nce Basil was gone, the stiffness in Violet’s posture vanished, and without her corset and dress to keep her upright, Edward very much thought she would have sprawled backward onto the lush cushions of the settee with a satisfied smile on her face. As it was, she remained sitting but did allow a smile to sneak across her face as she selected a biscuit and took a sip of her tea.
Even though it was absurd, he felt an acute sense of accomplishment himself. It didn’t matter that she’d insisted on confronting her former betrothed on her own and offered Edward very little opportunity to provide help, because it was their marriage that had given her the power she required.
“I probably should have mentioned it sooner, but you look quite fetching today,” he told her, as he broke off a piece of biscuit and popped it into his mouth. “Lavender is the perfect complement to your fair skin and your remarkable red hair. When I spotted you in the church this morning, I couldn’t help thinking how lucky I am that you agreed to be my wife.”
It was often hard for him to read her, but this time, it was impossible to misinterpret her grimace or the way her tension abruptly returned.
The biscuit in her hand crumbled to pieces.
“What’s wrong?” he asked gently.
“I do not trust compliments,” she replied stiffly.
His lips quirked as he tried to joke. “You prefer insults?”
“Very funny.” She didn’t laugh. “I prefer honesty. I’ve told you this already. Multiple times.”
“Compliments cannot be honest?”
“Hmm.” She paused, her eyebrows drawing together. “I suppose it’s possible. However, in our situation, it would be best if you refrained from complimenting me.”
He frowned at her serious tone. It seemed she was being sincere—she truly did not want him to tell her she was lovely.
The prospect of being unable to say something flattering did not appeal. She was his wife, and as such, she ought to be on the receiving end of so many compliments that she became a bit conceited. Furthermore, he had never been particularly good at tempering his words. Not that he was volatile like his mother or Belinda, he simply wanted to be able to express his feelings—joy, sadness, excitement, pleasure, passion .
“I’m not confident I can refrain,” he admitted.
Finding her lovely and expressing his appreciation ought to bring them closer together, not further apart, but she huffed, a wrinkle appearing between her eyes. “Of course you can refrain. Whenever you have the urge to comment on my remarkable red hair or my fetching lavender gown , close your mouth and keep the words to yourself.”
“No,” he said with a wince.
Refusing her request was not ideal, especially on such a monumental day. It wasn’t as if he wanted to cause her upset, but what kind of future could they have if he couldn’t tell her that she looked lovely? “I appreciate that you are suspicious of the validity of my compliments, but in good conscience, I cannot simply avoid them altogether. It is my hope that over time you will come to believe me.”
“I shall not. I refuse to assign meaning to foolish words.” Her eyes blazed with conviction, and something else. Fear, maybe. Or annoyance. It was hard to tell. She cradled her tea in her hand, focusing on it instead of on him. “Nevertheless, I do recognize that, in a typical marriage, a normal woman might enjoy a bit of praise now and then. I will attempt to endure the words you cannot refrain from speaking.”
Endure. Endure implied suffering.
He didn’t want her to suffer.
Not that it appeared as if she was.
She was startlingly adept at retreating into herself. Her emotions seemed to be locked away in a place where he could no longer witness them. He hated it, but he admired it, too, because if hardening her heart was how she had survived since her father’s death, he could not fault her. Coping required its own kind of strength.
“I’m sorry that your relationship with Basil made you feel as if you need to endure kindness. Everything I say to you, every action I take, is genuine. I will not lie to you. I will not withhold parts of myself. I understand why you chose to marry me. I understand your affections are not engaged. We hardly know each other, and yet there is a connection between us. I felt it when I kissed you that first night, and I feel it every time we are together.”
Even when they weren’t touching he felt something he’d never felt before.
The blush that stained her cheeks was the only indication that she might feel the same, and he took her silence as an invitation to continue. “We don’t have to explain it. And you don’t have to tell me if you feel it, too. For better or worse, we’re married now, and I take that seriously.” He held up his hand when she opened her mouth. “I know you also take it seriously, otherwise you would have been married to Basil already.” He swallowed, his mouth suddenly too dry. “It’s only fair that I inform you that I intend to try to win your affections.”
“Affections.” She repeated the word softly, and then with a barely discernible grimace asked, “Have you ever been in love?”
“Umm…well…no,” he responded.
It was obviously not the time to reveal that he thought he could fall in love with her, so instead he added, “Once, I thought I was falling in love, but in the end, it was nothing more than lust, or maybe simply a desire for companionship.” Looking back, he wasn’t sure whether he’d actually liked Lady Hadley or whether he had appreciated that she seemed to like him.
Violet nodded and dropped her gaze to the ground between them as if she couldn’t bear to look at him when she spoke. “I loved Basil with my entire being. I was so enamored it didn’t occur to me to question his feelings.” She swallowed. “When I discovered he was in love with someone else, I confronted him, and he said he felt a great deal of affection for me.” She smiled weakly and looked up, her eyes swimming with tears. “Affection is the last thing I want. Not now. Not ever. I cannot offer it, nor can I receive it…it’s…it’s too much.”
He could see it now. The patchwork of emotional wounds that she had acquired during her betrothal. Her pain radiated between them. More than anything, he wanted to take it away. He wanted to heal her heart and then protect it for the rest of time.
Regrettably, he couldn’t do either of those things, at least not yet. There was no way she would allow him to help her heal until after she learned to trust him, and so, if he couldn’t protect her from her pain, he would do the next best thing and offer comfort.
Giving her enough time to object, he slowly and deliberately scooted closer.
When her thigh was flush with his, he reached out and gently pulled her into his arms. She came without hesitation, letting him wrap her in his embrace. It was a relief to feel her heart beating strongly against his chest while her breath stuttered into the crease of his neck.
Having her in his arms fired both his protective instincts and his lustful ones.
He fought his body’s physical response, not because he thought it would bother her, but because it was ill-timed. While he was no expert on intimacy, he knew that being allowed to hold her like this was a precious gift, and he wanted to savor it while he could. He kept his mouth closed, unsure whether speaking would reassure her or obliterate her ability to relax.
All the while, his mind churned with one simple question—what could he do to convince her that she could trust him?
His normal inclinations seemed more likely to cause harm than good, but he didn’t know who he was if not a charming man with a ready smile who offered kind words as frequently as possible. It was how he’d always coped in a world that hadn’t consistently given him what he’d needed.
She sighed softly, and he reminded himself that he needed to be patient with her. She’d dealt with significant upheaval over the last year, and perhaps time would help her heal. When she sniffled, there was only one thing he was certain of; he would not utter the word affection in her presence again.
Continuing to hold her, he tried to think of another word—one that didn’t hold painful memories for her, but it was hard. Fond was too bland. Adore too emotional. Love too powerful.
Not that he wouldn’t attempt to earn her love, just that he could imagine her reaction if he told her he wanted it. She’d probably kick him in the bollocks and then laugh him out of London.
Abruptly, she started to pull away, and he almost tightened his grip so she couldn’t escape before realizing that he would never win her trust if he tried to control her. Reluctantly, he unwrapped his arms and then released her so hastily that she almost fell backward off the settee.
“Apologies,” he said, steadying her and then smiling to try to ease the awkwardness between them.
She nodded as she studied him, tugging her bottom lip into her mouth. Her gaze dipped. “Will you kiss me again?”
“Kiss you?” It was the last request he’d expected, and he couldn’t resist the swell of hunger that ricocheted directly to his cock, lengthening and thickening it.
Maybe it was because she was his wife now.
Or maybe it was the emotion of the day.
Or maybe it was simply her.
Whatever it was, he couldn’t remember a time when he’d felt such instantaneous desire, and while there was nothing he wanted more than to kiss her, he couldn’t help feeling as if it were a bad idea.
She was emotional. He was emotional.
The timing seemed off.
“Please,” she whispered
Her quiet plea was too much to resist, and he barely kept enough control to say, “Of course.”
Leaning forward, he gently, almost carefully, cupped her face with his hands and pressed his lips to hers. As soon as he felt their softness coupled with the silkiness of her skin, he lost the battle to take it slow and kissed her like he’d die if he didn’t.
She reacted just as fervently—as if she desired him as much as he desired her.
He didn’t know why his body responded so forcefully to her, but he was too busy getting lost in messy, heated kisses to waste time questioning it.
His tongue delved into her mouth, and she met him stroke for stroke, as her hands found the hair at the nape of his neck and threaded into it. He would have been content to kiss her for hours, but she whispered against his lips, “I’ve never been with a man, not completely, but I’m not entirely inexperienced. I know ways to give you pleasure.”
He shuddered, more aroused than he’d been in his entire life. Did she mean what he thought? “You…pleasure.” He tried to clarify, but he lost the ability to form sentences as her hand grazed the bulge of his pantaloons.
She chuckled, the sound sultry. “Unless you have an objection, I would like to taste you.”
Unless he had a…he did not have an objection.
He exhaled harshly, and with a desperate whine breathed, “Yes.”
Without breaking their kiss, she skimmed her hand up his torso and undid the buttons on his waistcoat, then peeled it and his jacket off. With nimble fingers, she unwound his cravat, and it was impossible to withhold a sigh as she stroked the newly exposed skin on his chest.
He’d had more than a few encounters with the very skilled Lady Hadley and a few short-lived trysts, but he was not prepared for the unabashed way Violet embraced passion. There was no uncertainty, no hesitation, as she started to pull his shirt upward.
The blast of cold air, however, briefly restored his senses.
They were in a public room. Both the door and the drapes were wide open. Privacy was lacking, and if he allowed it, she would strip him naked where anyone could see. He was not a prude, but he had some decorum, so he stilled her movements with his hand, and asked breathlessly, “Where is your bedchamber?”
She pulled back, eyes wide as her gaze darted around the room. “Heavens. I lost sight of where we were…we must…follow me.”
She broke away and, far more steadily than he expected, rose and walked out of the room. He nearly stumbled in his haste to catch up to her, but he needn’t have worried that she would leave him behind. Before they even reached the stairs, she reached back and grabbed his hand.
Leading him down the upstairs hallway, she pulled him into a bedchamber, and once there, the only thing he registered was the bed. His fingers and hers tangled as they stumbled toward it and worked to remove the rest of his clothing.
When he was bare, her nails gently scraped along his heated skin. There was a reverence in the way she touched him. As if his body pleased her and she had no choice but to map it in its entirety. Between her touch and her concentration, he felt worshipped.
He didn’t hate being the focus of her attention, but wanting more than just her fingers touching him, he started to undress her. Layer after layer fell away to reveal pale, unblemished skin. She was thin, with hips that flared slightly and small pert breasts. He only caught a glimpse before she tugged him onto the plain bedspread in a tangle of limbs.
Violet’s lithe body covered his as her lips trailed across his chest. She lapped at his nipples, and he arched his back to encourage her, even though no woman had ever shown such intense interest in his body before. Inhaling deeply, she blew her exhalation across his fevered skin, and his nipples pebbled at whisper of cool air.
“Your scent. Your taste,” she whispered. “It’s intoxicating. I can’t…get enough.”
She kept kissing his fevered skin, and he could do nothing except allow it. Part of him wanted to encourage her to move further down his body, but at the same time, he didn’t want to halt her worship. He’d had no idea that his skin was so sensitive, or that feeling her mouth on the firmness of his abdomen and the apex of his hips would be so heady.
She was seducing him in a way he hadn’t known was possible.
Trailing her lips over his skin, she moved so slowly that he didn’t think she’d ever touch his cock, so when she finally wrapped her lips around the tip, he nearly exploded in her mouth. He should have been prepared, she’d given him ample evidence of what her mouth could do, but instead, she’d lulled him into a state of arousal so deep that he’d been unaware of anything except the way she was touching him. His quickly approaching orgasm cut through the lusty haze enough to have him tug her up so he could hold off from spilling into her mouth. Wanting to be inside of her when he came, he kissed her deeply, sucking on her tongue like it was an elaborate feast.
“Are you ready?” she panted into his ear.
Was he ready? Of course he was bloody ready.
He was primed to come with the slightest provocation. It was her who wasn’t ready. He’d been so engrossed by her lips that he’d barely touched her. “I am, but you are…not ready.”
“Yes, I am,” she replied with a chuckle, as she sucked on his earlobe.
And then, hitching her knees up until they pressed against the sides of his torso, she lifted her hips and reached between them. Grasping him firmly in her fist, she lowered herself slowly. Inch by antagonizing inch, she sheathed him with her body.
He thought he might die as her body sucked him deeper. Waves of pleasure surged through him and the urge to spill before he was fully inside of her was hard to resist.
Never in his life had he had so little control of his body.
Somewhere in his mind swirled the memory of her whispered confession that she’d never done this before, and he reminded himself to let her set the pace.
Her channel surrounded him as his cock sank deeper into her body, and he couldn’t help the noises that slipped from his mouth. He gasped. He groaned. His sounds mingled with hers, until he could no longer tell the difference between them.
It was supposed to hurt her the first time, but the look on her face reflected nothing but bliss. Because she was on top, she was fully in control, and when she had completely seated herself, she held still. He wished she would raise her hips and drop onto him again so he could feel the slide of their bodies together, but he waited, his breath escaping in an unsteady pant.
“I need you to move,” he whispered.
Cheeks red with exertion, her eyes slipped closed, and she sighed. “It’s so much…I feel so full…give me another second.”
It took all his restraint not to roll her onto her back and seize control. She slid her hands up his torso, stopping on his pecs. Her fingers dug into his skin as she finally rocked her hips.
He groaned. “Bloody perfect. Don’t stop.”
Her pace was unsteady, but it hardly mattered because he was on the brink of orgasm once again. She felt so good that he never wanted it to end. His body, on the other hand, wanted to explode into a million pieces. Her hand tugged on his shoulder at the same time her thighs tightened. “I…want you…on top.”
She gasped and then tugged harder.
He obeyed immediately and rolled so she was on her back.
Watching her closely, he started to move.
Her eyes were glazed with arousal, and her hips rocked against his. Movement became mindless and instinctual as he reveled in witnessing her come undone. She stiffened and moaned as her body clenched around him, and the last shred of his composure fractured, and he came so hard that he lost touch with every aspect of the world except for her.