Chapter 15 #3
His tongue circled her nipple. Not once. Hugh Stanton was nothing if not thorough. He meant to wring the truth from her, gasp by gasp. He wanted every line of her confession.
And he would get it.
Yes. Hugh. Don’t stop.
Everything except for the one thing that lived inside her, small and afraid, unlikely to get a voice.
I love you.
She thrust her hands into his hair and gripped hard, her mouth finding his in a desperate kiss. Their teeth clashed. She bit his lower lip.
And found herself on her back on the bed.
He dragged his hand down his face and rubbed his jaw, his gaze tracking every inch of her. “Say now if you’ve changed your mind.” It was concern, or maybe a warning, or a man hanging on by a thread.
But he wasn’t satisfied with her nod.
His fingers moved deftly over the buttons of his trousers. “Have you ever seen a man naked, Emma?”
She tried not to swallow. “No, but I’m about to.”
“Boots first.” He balanced on one leg as he tugged the first off, the muscles in his abdomen flexing with the effort.
“Now I know how you earned your moniker, sir. You’re a terrible tease.”
“You usually meet me head to head, madam. Even the odds. Touch yourself where you want my mouth.”
Her hand hovered on the furs beneath her. This was new territory, and she had no map. Yet she felt safe following his lead.
The second boot hit the rug.
“Where do you want my mouth, Emma?”
“Here.” She touched her lips. “And here.” She stroked a path to her breasts, then lower, past her navel, until courage almost failed her. “And most definitely here.”
He dropped to his knees beside the bed and hooked his arms beneath her calves, parting her legs. “You’re bold enough to tell me what you like and don’t like. Don’t be shy.”
“I’m never shy with you.”
He gave a mischievous grin. “Good.”
Then his mouth was on her, hot and wet, a growl rumbling in his throat as he sucked and flicked her bud with his tongue.
Each stroke was its own exquisite torment.
She was panting, one hand fisting in the furs.
He lifted his head to look at her. “Too much?”
“Not enough.”
His eyes darkened. “My meddler. Always needing more.”
“I am your meddler.” It was the closest she could come to saying I love you.
“No one’s but mine,” he said roughly, and lowered his head.
He did not tease her now. He knew exactly where to put his tongue, how much pressure to use, when to stop and when to start again until she was gripping the furs and saying his name as if it were the only word she knew.
The release took her hard, stealing the strength from her limbs and the sense from her head. She was still shaking when he rose, his mouth damp, his eyes fixed on hers.
He slipped the first button on his trousers. “We don’t have to continue. We can end the night here. With that hazy glow—”
“Don’t you dare stop now.”
He could not hide from this. Not that he could, given the rigid length straining against the dark wool.
With maddening confidence, he undid another button. Then another. Her throat went dry when he pushed the trousers down over his hips and stepped out of them.
She stared … and stared.
So this was what he’d been keeping from her too.
The broad shoulders were one thing. The muscular chest, the lean waist, the strength in his thighs. And then there was the rest of him. Mr Stanton was firm in more than his opinions.
“Afraid?”
“A little.”
“I’m confident you’ll rise to the challenge.”
“You certainly have.”
He came down over her, and the kiss turned hungry at once, all teeth and tongue and the hard press of his body between her thighs.
“I’ll be careful,” he muttered against her neck, his lips finding the sensitive spot below her ear. “There won’t be a child.”
She should have sighed with relief. Instead, she pictured them together—a house, a life, children underfoot.
She stiffened.
He paused, mistaking it for doubt.
“Don’t stop, Hugh.”
She’d have this night with him, if nothing else.
He entered her slowly, one strong arm supporting his weight, his gaze fixed on her face as though nothing beyond this room mattered.
“Trust me,” he murmured, and eased past the resistance with one careful thrust.
She gasped, her fingers digging into his back. It hurt for a second, then all she felt was him, filling every empty space she hadn’t known was there.
He began to move, and her body answered his rhythm as if it had always known how.
She wrapped her legs around his hips, drawing him deeper. It wasn’t deep enough.
“I’m not too heavy?”
“No.” She loved the weight of him, the heat of his skin on hers, his low moan as his control began to fray. Who on earth would choose a cold marriage over this?
“Emma.” His voice broke on her name, the word like a plea. “God, how I need you.”
He sounded a little drunk on pleasure, yet her heart thumped harder. Perhaps he meant it, the most beautiful thing anyone had ever said to her. She had every reason to believe he did.
It was there in the tender look in his eyes after he’d found his release against her thigh. In the gentleness of his kiss. In the smile that wasn’t shrouded by shadow.