Forty-two #2
He urged her to sit up so he could remove her chemise, then he stood at the edge of the bed to untie her stockings, slowly gliding them down her legs.
When he pushed his trousers past his hips, they puddled on the floor.
She wrapped her arms around his waist and placed a kiss to his chest. He hugged her, nuzzling her hair.
“Is this enough for tonight?” he asked softly.
She released him, tipping her head back. “I want it all.”
Groaning, he bent forward to capture her mouth, cradling her face.
Urgency and desperation fueled his kisses, and she gripped his shoulders to pull him back on the bed.
Instead, he grabbed her bottom and lifted her.
She wrapped herself around him, wildly kissing him as he moved toward a small chest of drawers next to the bed.
He broke the kiss, laughing softly. “Keep that enthusiasm, love.”
After lowering her to the mattress, he opened the drawer and pulled out a dark green bottle sealed with a cork. He held it up. “Sweet almond oil from the apothecary. It’s supposed to ease any discomfort on the wedding night.”
He was the perfect husband, thoughtful and patient. She, however, wasn’t patient at all. Reclining on the pillow, she reached for him.
“I’ve heard lying with your husband is pleasurable.”
He pulled the cork from the bottle and poured some oil into his hand. “I will make certain it is.”
Jonathan warmed the oil between his palms while gazing down at his beautiful wife. Pink cheeks, plump lips, slender arms reaching for him… She was Venus born again with her golden copper hair and smooth skin.
“Jonathan,” she murmured, almost pleading with him.
He touched her thigh, massaging the oil into her skin as he worked his way up.
When he reached his destination, she arched her back, eyes closed and lips parted.
His heart thumped against his ribs as he leaned forward to rain soft kisses on her breast. She curled her hand around the back of his head, lightly running her nails through his hair, and he took her in his mouth.
She moaned with pleasure as he circled his tongue around the bud and caressed her pearl. Gently, slowly, he slipped a finger into her and returned to her pleasurable spot. Her body tensed and her breathing grew ragged. Sensing a shift, he stood so he could watch her reach her peak.
She opened her eyes—now dark blue like twilight—holding him entranced as the first wave of her climax hit her. She moaned, lips glistening in the lamplight and gaze never wavering, even as another and another swept over her.
When she sighed, sinking into the mattress, he lay down beside her. She turned into his arms and nestled into his neck, her breath skating across his skin. He swallowed around the lump in his throat.
As her pulse and breathing slowed, he caressed her back. He ached to be with her fully, but he gave her time to recover. She skimmed her fingers down his chest, taking her time. Torturous and delightful. When she grazed him, he inhaled sharply.
“I know there’s more,” she whispered and circled her fingers around him.
He groaned. “There is.”
He reached for the bottle to pour more oil into his palm. Her eyes widened when he rubbed it on himself. A shallow furrow formed between her brows like it did when she was curious as he glided his hand up and down his length.
“Climb on top,” he said while holding her waist.
When they were aligned, he encouraged her to go slowly. He trembled as she took him inch by inch. Slipping his hands to her hips, he held her gaze. She nodded, and he drew her down on him. Surrounded by her, he held still when every instinct urged him to flip her beneath him and take everything.
Her lashes fluttered, and she opened her eyes. “Show me.”
“Put your hands on my chest.”
Still holding her hips, he guided her movements, becoming undone when her gaze softened with desire and she licked her lips. He rolled so she was underneath him. She gripped his lower back, holding him close as he climaxed.
Settling beside her, he embraced her again while his body calmed and his mind found peace for the first time in years. Her fingers skimmed the raised line along his waist. The knife wound was healing, but he would have a scar.
They lay there in silence for a long time, listening to their breath and the nightly creaking of the villa. Eventually, she flopped onto her back with a soft groan.
“That was amazing, but now I’m obsessed with having another slice of baklava.”
Chuckling, he squeezed her hand. “Your hunger is a compliment, I think.”
He climbed out of bed to clean up quickly so he could retrieve whatever she desired. Before visiting the kitchen, he poured water into a basin and carried it to the chest beside the bed. He kissed her once more before heading out the door.
The corridor was dark as he made his way to the back staircase, but he’d been at the villa long enough not to need a light. As he neared the staircase, he heard footsteps running on the treads a second before a small body collided with him. A woman screamed.
Jonathan grabbed her before she fell back down the staircase. His bedchamber door flew open and Evangeline hurried out with a lamp. She had wrapped the bedsheet around her.
She lifted the lamp. “Leda?”
Light fell across the envelope in the maid’s hand. Familiar handwriting stood out stark against the white. No postmarks. No smudges from a long journey.
“Where is he?” he asked through gritted teeth.