Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Mark set her gently on the edge of her bed, then began taking all the pins out of her hair.
He slowly ran his fingers through, rubbing her scalp with soft little assurances, and then helped her undress.
Mark went through her closet and pulled out a long, wool nightgown with a high neck and long sleeves.
The wool was turning nubby, a clear sign of long use and love.
“Will this help?” He held up the pale yellow garment, and Ellen nodded.
Mark undid her corset, then gave her the nightgown.
While she put it on, he turned the electric lights off and stoked the fire. Any little bits of comfort and warmth.
He used the time she dressed not only to prepare her environment, but also to calm down.
Mark had felt sick to his stomach as soon as he heard the news in the dispensary, for he knew how much it would hurt Ellen.
And then when that gruff, large man had stepped forward to threaten Ellen and her friend, he hadn’t even realized he was up and on his feet until he was directly behind the man.
When O’Malley had raised a fist...Mark sucked in a breath at the vivid memory.
He’d seen red, and it was all thanks to his Navy experience he kept control of himself and the situation.
Still, all he wanted was to plant his own fist in the bastard’s face as he’d been half-dragged out the door.
Mark slipped off his frock coat and draped it over the back of a chair, wiping his face with his forearm.
Now wasn’t the time to contemplate violence. Now was about Ellen. He turned to find her sitting forlornly on the bed, staring at the fire with a blank expression. Her nightrail, all comfort and no prettiness, flowed around her.
He didn’t know how to help her. He went to her side and pressed a kiss to her temple. “What can I do?” he murmured.
“Hold me,” she whispered.
He climbed into her bed behind her, leaning against the headboard, and wrapped his arms around her.
She settled between his spread legs, her back to his chest, and lay her head on his shoulder.
Her arms twisted in his and tugged his grip tighter.
They sat silently for a long time. When the maid brought in supper, two bowls of soup, she set it on Ellen’s nightstand beside their photo of Constance and left without a word.
Mark eased Ellen up. “You should eat,” he suggested gently.
Ellen nodded and turned between his legs to kneel facing him.
She ate her soup in bed, and Mark saw three tears trickle down her face.
When she stopped eating, he took the half-empty bowl out of her hands and set it back on the tray with his.
He ignored his soup; she needed his attention more than his stomach.
“Oh, darling.” He pulled her close again, meaning to tuck her under his chin.
She surprised him by lifting her face and kissing him.
His brain went blank with shock, as if he was fifteen years old with his first kiss.
He didn’t kiss her back at first. But she was insistent, and slowly he warmed to her touch.
“What are we doing?” he breathed, then swept his tongue across the seam of her lips.
“Being together.” Ellen draped herself across his front, stroking the inside of his mouth with her tongue. She tormented him with long, languorous kisses. Warm, fervent nips and sweet, earnest licks. Mark groaned into her mouth.
“I want you, Ellen. I’ve wanted you so badly I can scarcely breathe when I see you.” His hands dug into the back of her wool nightrail. She just needs comfort. Give her comfort.
“So have me.” Ellen kissed his jaw, then nibbled on the lobe of his ear.
“You’ve had a shock. I don’t want to ”—he shivered at the heat of her breath in his ear—“to take advantage.”
“I need you to hold me.” She paused her kissing and put her forehead to his, sharing his breath, as one hand cradled his cheek. “Mark, please remind me. Remind me there is goodness in this world.”
He groaned again and trapped her in a tight embrace. “I will, if you mean it.”
“Love me, Mark.” Her fingers went for the buttons of his waistcoat.
He allowed it, God help him. He slowly untied his necktie and tossed it across the room, watching her tear-stained face for any signs of hesitation.
By the time that was finished, she’d undone his waistcoat and was pulling it off his shoulders.
He slipped it off, and she was at his collar.
“We should go slow,” he said. “Not rush this. Not rush us.” His arousal grew, and he didn’t know how long he could deny it. Ellen bit her lip and nodded.
Is she using me to forget? Do I even care?
Mark would happily give her his body so she could have a few moments without heartache.
He ran his fingers through her loose hair while she worked his shirt buttons.
When his shirt was off and had joined his other clothing on the floor, Ellen eyed his chest shyly.
“You’ve grown,” she said, and placed one tender hand over his heart. Her fingers curled against the faint dusting of blond chest hair. He nearly gasped at her touch.
He smiled and put his hand over hers, holding it close.
His heart ached to have her so near, touching him.
He fought to keep his tone light yet earnest. “The Navy worked me hard, especially those early years.” He’d never had sex like this before, a desperate lifeline for someone drowning in grief and isolation.
Her other hand cupped his shoulder, then caressed his muscles. “I like it.”
Mark’s heart lightened. “I’m glad.” He loved her hair. The soft brown waves, the way it escaped her chignons and braids, the way it tangled around his fingers, entrapping him.
Ellen leaned forward and kissed his breastbone, the same as he’d done nearly four days ago.
For a long time they stayed that way, going slowly, Ellen learning his body again. She caressed his chest and his pulse spiked. She nuzzled his throat and his heart hammered. She passed a forefinger over one of his nipples, and it hardened in anticipation.
He slowly, ever so slowly, took the hem of her gown and inched it upward.
It passed her calves first, in her kneeling position, and then bared her thighs.
God, he loved those thighs. He gathered the nightrail around her torso, then slid it up over her raised arms and head, leaving her in only her champagne-colored combination. He sucked in a breath.
“You’re so beautiful.” His cock twitched.
Ellen blushed. “I know I don’t look the same as when I was nineteen.”
“No, you don’t look the same. You’re more beautiful.
” He peeled the straps off her shoulders, letting them fall down her arms and leaving her torso bare.
Although he’d gotten a glimpse on New Year’s Eve, and then had felt her breasts quite nicely the last three nights as they slept entwined together, this was his first long look at them.
Mark ran his hands up and down her sides, then leaned forward and licked her left nipple.
It hardened under his attention, and she gasped and arched her back.
Emboldened, Mark did the same to the other one.
Then he brought his hands back to the undersides of her breasts and lifted them to his eager mouth.
He moaned in delight as he sucked and nibbled each nipple in turn, and she grabbed his shoulders to steady herself.
With every lave of his tongue he told her, I’m here. I see you. I’m with you in the grief.
Ellen’s own hands explored his abdomen, stroking the thin trail of hair that led from his navel down below his trousers’ waistband, and he leaned back to give her better access.
“These should come off,” Ellen whispered.
Mark agreed. He reluctantly let her go to strip off his trousers while she used the freedom of movement to finish removing the combination. When they returned to each other, they were bare—body and soul.
Her bloodshot eyes looked everywhere but at him, and her hands twitched, likely to cover herself from his gaze.
Tenderness blooming in his chest, Mark touched her chin gently. “I can’t imagine anything more perfect,” he whispered. He ran the hand down her throat, between her breasts, over the gentle slope of her belly, and let it stop just at the curls of her mound. “Open up, my love. Let me see you.”
Ellen flushed, but scooted close and loosely straddled him, one calf on either side of his waist, leaving several inches between his sex and hers.
“I should thank the Navy,” she murmured, her hands feeling every square inch of his belly and hips.
She tickled the hair that led to the carpet above his sex, and he flinched at the invasion.
Ellen quirked a smile at his response, despite her puffy and red-rimmed eyes. “Still ticklish, I see.”
“Not at all,” he lied. “You misremember.”
Something devious sparked in Ellen’s eyes, and he realized he’d made a grave error.
Ellen gently trailed her fingernails across one inner thigh, and he fought to keep still. His leg twitched, and he gritted his teeth to keep a grimace off his face as he met her gaze steadily. You have no effect on me, his eyes lied.
She shot him a disappointed look. Just when he thought he’d escaped, she darted her fingernails upward, across his abdomen.
Mark jackknifed, nearly hitting her head with his as he gasped and convulsed, a smile escaping. “Ellen! Oh God, stop it, don’t touch me! You know I cannot bear tickling.”
Ellen laughed, a clear, sweet sound that broke the tension building in the room and swept away the last of Mark’s reservations about being intimate with her while she was so upset.