Miles Before I Sleep (25 page)

In their position, Miles had to stretch his neck up to kiss her. She placed her hands atop his shoulders as her mouth softened against his. As he deepened the kiss, a soft mewing sound escaped her throat. Suddenly, she pulled away, her hand flying to her mouth, her eyes wide.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”

Tilting his head to one side, Miles gently pried her hand from her lips and placed it on his shoulder.

“If women didn’t make little sounds of pleasure, men wouldn’t know what they liked.”

“Truly?”

“Absolutely.”

“My mother would have sent me to my room if I made that sound when I was eating.”

A wicked smile crossed Miles’s face. “If you make that sound when you’re eating, I’ll let you decide if I take you to the bedroom or I take you on the table.”

A little squeal escaped her lips as what he meant dawned on her. “Miles!”

“Andi!” he exclaimed, echoing her tone.

She leaned forward and reengaged the kiss. Another little mew escaped her lips when his tongue made its first invasion into her mouth. She felt his lips thin as he smiled involuntarily. She was so lost in their kiss that she barely noticed when his hand skimmed her hip on the way to her ankle. Inch by inch his hand trailed up her leg under her skirts. When he reached her knee, his hand drifted down the outer side until he encountered her ankle again. Slowly, his fingers traced a path to the inner side of her leg and trailed upward. He felt her whole body tense. With a grunt of frustration, he removed his hand completely.

Andrea pulled away. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he said tightly.

“You practically growled at me.”

“Did I?”

Her wide eyes blinked, but otherwise held his gaze. Her pink lips were dark and puffy, and parted as she breathed slightly faster than normal.

“I wasn’t going to stop you. I know what my wifely duty is.”

If Miles had been the kind of man who cursed in front of women, he would have sworn at that moment.

“Andrea, when we make love, I don’t want you accepting my advances because you think you are supposed to. When you made that little sound a minute ago, I knew you liked what we were doing—in the same way, when your whole body went rigid, I knew you didn’t.”

Andrea looked like she might cry. “Don’t be mad. I shall try harder.” She leaned forward to reengage the kiss, but he held her back by her upper arms.

“I’m not mad—not at you, anyway.”

“I’m trying. I really am,” she whispered, her voice wavering noticeably.

Miles pulled her into an embrace, his cheek against her ear. “I know you are. But if you’re scared and nervous, your first time is not going to be good, and much of what your mother told you will come true. Your body will not accept mine easily, nor will it be pleasurable. You have spent your whole life pretending to be someone you’re not, but you cannot fake this.”

How could she explain to him that she had already accepted the fact the marriage bed would be awful—that he did not have to try to make it better? Obviously, some women could enjoy it, but other women, like her mother, could not. There must be something wrong with her anatomy that makes it bad. Andrea was her mother’s daughter. She was no doubt doomed to the same fate.

“Sometimes, I just want it over so I’ll know.”

“So you can know how bad it’s going to be?” he asked boldly, setting her back, so he could see her face.

Her guilty expression was all the answer he needed. “Yes.”

He wished he could say, “Believe me. I’ve never lied to you.” But that would have been the biggest lie of all. He lied about Shamus’s identity. He lied about not knowing her when she first came aboard. He lied to her parents to hide his knowledge of her whereabouts. Was this what love did to a man?

Worst of all, he had no intention of telling her the truth until the marriage was consummated—when it could no longer be annulled.

“You look tired. Go get ready for bed, and I will be there in a few minutes. I need to talk to Levi about the Pikes.”

“You’re truly going to put them off?”

“I am.”

Andrea clambered off his lap, grabbed her shoes and stockings and disappeared into the bedroom.

32

One of the things Miles liked about Andrea was the way she never seemed to do what he predicted. He expected her to be perched on the edge of the bed feigning sleep. Instead, he found her sound asleep in the middle. He wondered if she always slept in the middle, or if she intended for him to sleep elsewhere. Nevertheless, he suspected that she had put a great deal of thought into where she chose to locate herself.

She slept on her side in a white muslin nightgown buttoned to her neck, the counterpane pulled up to her armpit. Her face bore a slight flush and he wondered if she were overly warm, but the pink on her pale cheek only enhanced her beauty. Although the blush flattered her coloring, Miles realized it was the unguarded, relaxed look that caught his notice. He wondered if he would ever rid her of that serene look she wore when she was upset—the ice princess.

Although Miles preferred to sleep naked, and despite the fact he had purchased a nightshirt so as not to shock his bride, he stripped down to his unmentionables before snuffing the lantern and climbing into bed with Andrea.

Always at a premium, space aboard ship dictated the size of the bed. Although big enough for two people, with Andrea in the middle, Miles couldn’t help but come in contact with her. It took only a few seconds to decide to spoon her with his arm draped over her hip.

“Miles?” she rasped sleepily.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I didn’t know which side you liked to sleep on.”

She
had
given thought to sleeping in the middle. It was so he could have whichever side he wanted.

“Always trying to please,” he murmured.

“Is that not what a husband wants in a wife?”

Miles sighed. One reason why he felt they should marry was that he did not want to see a man bending her to his will.

“I’ve never wanted a wife who is blindly subservient.”

Andrea stilled. “I’m sorry. I’m trying to figure out how to please you.”

He could tell she had taken his words as criticism. “You do please me,” he assured her. “Close your eyes and get some rest. You had a big day today, I’m sure you are tired.”

Andrea turned her whole body to face him. “Apparently I don’t or I wouldn’t be going to sleep chaste on my wedding night.”

She reached out one hand to his chest and recoiled momentarily when she found him bare chested. Boldly, she placed her trembling hand back on his chest. “I wish I’d never told you what my mother said about…making love. Of course, I’m nervous. You were touching me in places no one has touched me since I was a child and my nurse bathed me. Are other brides not nervous also?”

“Even now, your hand quakes against my chest.”

“I was not expecting you to be naked.”

Miles chuckled softly. “I have my unmentionables on.”

Andrea stopped breathing for a moment again. “I don’t,” she whispered.

The hand draped over her hip flattened against her and stroked over her waist, feeling the contours beneath her nightgown.

“Andi, I hope the day will never come when you cease to surprise me.”

His mouth slashed urgently across hers. The moment her lips parted, his tongue searched out the dark sweetness inside. She moaned and her hand moved to his back. He felt the pressure from her hold compelling him to her, pushing her into the mattress as he pinned her under his weight. As he ground his hips forward, a sound of panic cried out from her throat.

“Oh, dear God,” he said rolling away from her. “I’m sorry. Andi, are you all right?”

He silently cursed himself for treating her with such a lack of care. He could admit now that he had fallen in love with her during their first dance, but for the next years he denied it to himself, constantly reminding himself that the woman he thought he danced with, was actually the young girl on the pier. The betrothal had been bittersweet for him, and he focused on waiting for her to grow up into the woman with whom he danced. Three very long years since the betrothal was agreed upon culminated in this night, and he could scarcely contain himself.

In the darkness, he could barely see her eyes staring back at him, her breath fast and shallow.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean for you to stop. I just….”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.  I forgot myself for a moment. I don’t want it like that—not the first time.”

She reached out and put her splayed hand on the base of his skull. “I’m not going to break,” she said as her hips met his.

Miles pulled her hand away and disengaged the kiss. “No, Andi. Not like this,” he said gently. “You won’t get any pleasure if we rush through it.”

In the dark, he couldn’t see the tears welling up in her eyes, but the tremor in her voice was unmistakable.

“I had one duty to perform on my wedding night and you won’t let me. I don’t know why you cannot understand that I already know what to expect, and for all your insistences, I know I will not find pleasure in it. I just want to get it over with.”

Frustration tinted his tone as he threw his leg over the side of the bed and rose to his feet. “If that’s what you want, Andrea, then that’s what you shall get.” A moment later, he struck a Lucifer and lit the lantern, turning the wick low. “Take off your nightgown.”

“But the light….”

“I am your husband now. It is your duty to please me and I want to see your body.” Andrea eyed him warily before she slowly complied, but after the nightgown was off, she held it in front of herself to shield her body from his gaze.

“Is it a wife’s duty to endure her husband’s pleasure?”

“Of course.”

“Then you will let me do
all
the things that give me pleasure?”

“Y-yes,” she stammered.

“Your body is mine to…
use
as I see fit?”

“Miles, you’re scaring me.”

His tone softened slightly. “Answer my question.”

She bit her lip. A tear fell over her lashes and ran down her cheek. “Yes.”

Christ! What was he doing? This was exactly what he was afraid her wedding night would be like.

Miles moved to the side of the bed, pulled the nightgown out of her grasp and tossed it across the room. He sat down facing her and brushed her tears away with his fingertip. He softened his tone and smiled at her. “You have a beautiful body, Andrea; seeing it gives me pleasure.” The words rolled off his tongue slowly. He leaned closer and kissed her gently. Perhaps if he explained what he was doing before he did it, she would not be so frightened. “I am going to do things to your body you never imagined men did to women and I’m going to keep doing these things until you get used to them—until your body relaxes under my touch. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

The small voice she used made him understand just how afraid she felt. She was so convinced it would be awful, he felt cornered into using her compliance to let him do what he needed. Since she would not accept his tender attentions for the sake of
her
pleasure, he would compel her to accept them for his.

His face loomed over hers. “I have told you I love you; do you believe me?”

“I don’t believe in love.”

He signed overdramatically. “But I do.”

“You married me, so you must be fond of me,” she conceded.

“Will you trust me?”

Miles saw the indecision on her face as she gnawed on her lip. “I shall try.”

“You are my wife now. I expect you to yield to me.”

“I shall try,” she whispered.

He stretched out on his side, half covering her body. “Shh,” he said as his mouth captured hers in a languid kiss. When he trailed a finger down her throat to her clavicle, she stopped breathing. “I’m going to touch you and kiss you, Andrea, in all the places no one has touched you since your nurse stopped bathing you.”

“Why-why must you?”

“Your body is different from mine. Those differences entice me. Now, stop talking or we are never going to solve the problem of your virginity.”

He kissed her lips again but did not linger there. As his mouth trailed a line of kisses to one breast, Miles watched her face. When his tongue found her nipple, she gasped, tightly shut her eyes and squeezed her hands into fists.

Teasing the pink pearl with his mouth, his hand became acquainted with the size and shape of her youthful breast.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked. He waited for her eyes to open, then dragged the length of his tongue across the tip of her breast as if licking the custard off a spoon as he waited for her answer.

“No.”

“Then, please, try to relax.” He kissed the tip of her breast twice then lightly closed his lips over the bud.

“I can’t. I am trying stay still, but my whole body feels—twitchy.”

“Twitchy?” he repeated with a smile. “Stop fighting what your body wants you to do.”

“You might think I’m a harlot.”

“Criminy! Did your mother tell you that?”

“No, the girls at school did.”

Again, Miles sighed. Offhandedly, he wondered if American schoolgirls were so ill informed. “Andi, this
twitching
is like the little sounds you made earlier. They help me know what you like. It also enhances my pleasure to see your body reacting.”

“You won’t think I’m wanton?”

If he could turn her from reluctant to wanton in these few minutes, he would certainly have something to crow about in the morning, but he could not imagine she wanted to hear that. He wished she had a valve he could turn to shut off the part of her brain which had to analyze everything.

“Of course not,” he said grinning, and sought out her nipple again before she said anything else.

As he suckled, she gasped and arched her back. He liked her twitchiness and would have told her as much, but he was afraid he would start another conversation. He moaned putting his hands under her arched back and pulled her tightly.

Lifting his head, he admired the way the button had darkened under his care. Turning his attention towards the other one, she rewarded him with a low moan. He nearly chuckled aloud with satisfaction as she responded to him.

When his hands sought out her thighs, she flinched reflexively and an involuntary whimper of uncertainty escaped her lips testifying to her nervousness.

Suddenly, he found himself on the floor, sitting mostly upright on his bottom. He wasn’t completely sure how she had done it, but she had shoved him off so hard, she had not only dislodged him, but knocked him off the bed completely.

She scrambled off the other side of the bed, snatching up her nightgown and holding it in front of her.

“You couldn’t just say, ‘Stop, I don’t like what you’re doing,’ or ‘You are going too fast for me,'?” he asked from the floor, casting a bemused glance over his shoulder at her.

“I don’t want to do this—not now—not ever.”

Miles sighed and cursed under his breath. He knew she wasn’t ready—he should have realized when she said she wanted to get it over with, that she had steeled her nerves to do so, and could quickly lose her bravado.

“Put your nightgown on, Andi,” he said, resignation making his tone taut and unnaturally cool. Knowing his unmentionables did little to hide the evidence of his desire, Miles said, “Please, hand me my dressing robe.”

~*~

Remember how the marquess had told her he would tie her to the bed with the sash of his robe, Andrea gasped and pulled her nightgown on. Her eyes darted back and forth between Miles and the doorway just beyond where he was climbing to his feet. Suddenly, she darted past and into the other room. “I’m not going to let you tie me to the bed.”

She heard a mild curse escaped his lips as she found herself in the sitting room. “Andi….”

~*~

He followed her into the outer room and was shocked to see her at the door, struggling with the lock. “No!” he yelled as he rushed to her.

Her body was halfway into the corridor when he caught her by the waist. “You’re in your nightgown, Andi,” he said calmly. “Come back in before someone sees you. We are on a ship in the middle of the ocean. If you really want to leave, come back in and get dressed.”

Miles heard a lock turning on another stateroom in the corridor. He bodily pulled her back inside, and shut the door before anyone saw them.

“Please, don’t tie me to the bed,” she said pulling away from him and pressing her back to the closed door.