The Wedding Duel (The Dueling Pistols Series) (38 page)

Where was she? Still in the house? Did he want to know if she wasn't? The seconds ticked by as he hovered in uncharacteristic indecision.

He turned his head as the whisper of the connecting door drew his attention.

Sophie stepped into his bedroom, her feet bare, her body sheathed in a frilly insubstantial gown of nothing, covered by a sheer wrapper. She stood still in the doorway, her body clearly silhouetted by the light behind her.

He sat stock still, desire building in his body, throbbing in his loins, pounding in his soul. He wanted her so badly he couldn't move.

"I couldn't sleep. I thought perhaps we could talk."

"By all means. Come in." His voice was hoarse.

She stepped forward and shrugged out of the insubstantial wrapper, leaving her arms bare. She leaned forward just a bit to drape the wrapper on the doorknob.

He could see the smooth globes of her breasts, the merest half moons of pale pink nipples teased him, before she straightened. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to look in her face.

"It is a bit warm in here, isn't it?" she said.

No, it wasn't. Goose bumps stood out on her bare arms. His gaze was drawn to the beaded tips of her breasts. Cold or desire? "Nearly an inferno. Perhaps your nightgown is too warm."

She took another step in the room, and folded her arms behind her back. The movement thrust her pert breasts forward and exposed the cleft between them through the now gapping ribbons down her front. Her nipples were barely concealed by the gown, playing a hide-and-seek game with his libido.

Her boldness amused him, but at the same time there was a piece of him that dreaded what it meant. Inexperienced innocents didn't have the confidence to stage all-out seductions. What had happened to her tent-like high-necked night wear?

Yet, the sight of her flirtatious removal of her wrapper had his blood thundering. He folded his arms across his chest. How far would she go?

"Do you like it, Keene? Do you think it is too fussy? All these ribbons." She tugged at the ribbon threaded through the scooped neckline of gown. "Perhaps I should remove some of them."

"By all means, if you feel they are unnecessary."

Removal of the ribbon she had her fingers on would loosen the low neckline even more. His heart danced with anticipation. Ribbons held the edges together down her front. Would she be daring enough to untie all those?

She toyed with the ribbon. He wanted nothing more than to sit and wait out her play, but he couldn't stand it anymore. "Let me help."

He had the ribbons untied in seconds. Her hands hovered shoulder high as if she would assist him if he stumbled or knotted the ties, but he was too sure of what he wanted to risk a delay caused by impatience. He drank in the creamy white skin, the soft swell of her breasts. He touched a finger to the material's edge, ready to peel back the gown, when her startled breath drew his gaze to her face.

Her eyes were wide and bright, too bright. Her expression tense and uncertain. Was she scared? "Sophie?"

She stared at him. His body pounded in a demand for release. Yet, this was the first time he'd ever made love to his wife. She deserved a slow seduction, kisses, caresses, soft words, and his control was like a thrown glass speeding toward the hearthstones.

"Do you know what you do to me?" he whispered.

She gave a tiny uncertain shake of her head.

Waves of desire crashed through him. He couldn't do it. He couldn't go slowly with her, not nearly as slowly as she deserved. Never had he felt so desperate for a woman. "Touch me, love. I'm dying for you."

Her hands inched forward, landing tentatively on his shoulders. His breath rasped in and out. The coolness of her fingers clashed with the heat of his skin and shot ragged sensations ripping through his veins. He couldn't take her while she was so tense, but desperate longing bade him ignore her nervousness.

Yet, some place in his brain kept reminding him her pleasure in this meant more than his, which was an odd twist on his belief that seeing to a woman's pleasure would heighten his, but he was too far gone to sort out nuances.

He traced his finger along the edge of the open material, his eyes drinking in her every response. When her lips parted he leaned forward, diving into the welcome warmth of her mouth, tasting and teasing her.

Her welcome return of his kiss brought a hitch to his breathing. He wanted to kiss her forever, all the way through. Yet, he wanted to press his lips to every square inch of her flesh. He shoved his dressing gown off, letting the silk pile on the floor around his feet. Her hands against his bare flesh were nearly enough to send him over the edge. Her tiny caresses spun webs of enchantment.

He pulled her against him, molding every inch of her pliant body against his harder frame. Shudder after shudder ripped through him. He continued the kiss until in his head he was begging her to push forward, to take the next step, to give him a sign that she was ready to be stripped of the insubstantial nightgown and tossed on his bed, the secrets of her body ready to be plundered.

No longer able to get air to his lungs he broke away from her mouth, his breath rasping in and out. He stroked his shaking hands down her back, molding her curves and pressing her closer and closer.

Her breath was coming harder, heavier, but not nearly as labored as his. "Sophie, I can't hold back. I need you too badly."

He sought her face, her lovely blue eyes. She stared at him. He pushed her hand down to feel the pulsing hard length of him and nearly lost his mind as her fingers closed around him, and her gaze dropped down. The movement of her hand might be tacit permission to push forward, but he wasn't sure. After all, he'd placed her hand there. He groaned and pushed her hand away, fearing he wouldn't last through her ministrations.

He kissed her neck. "Tell me what you want, what you need. I swear to you I'll please you. We'll make love all night long if that is what it takes." He kissed lower, down the open neckline of the nightgown. He traced his finger down, blazing the path for his mouth.

Her stiff intake of breath mirrored his own wonder as he edged back the sides of the nightgown and her lovely breasts filled his vision. He circled one rosy tip with his finger, watching it pucker and tighten.

"Tell me what you like, love," he murmured just before he took the perked nipple in his mouth.

"Oh, that," she whispered. "Th-that feels good."

He pushed the nightgown from her shoulders with only the fleeting thought that in the future he might use it to tease her with. Not tonight, though. His need was too urgent. He'd waited far too long.

He sought her mouth, mimicking the moves he wanted to make with their lower bodies. Swirling, dipping, rubbing against her playful tongue. His hands remained at her breasts, engaging in the play and tease of her flesh. He stroked his fingers along the curves, nipped at the pink tips, and lifted the weight of them in his hands.

He was so hard, each throb was painful. His skin was on fire. He could no longer deny himself the release he craved. He needed to be inside her, her softness around him, and the sensation of spilling his seed into her warm wet flesh. Every restraint he had stretched to the breaking point. He shook under the strain of holding back.

"Sophie, I can't wait any longer. I need you. I promise I'll see to your pleasure in any way you want, but I need you now."

"I only want to please you," she whispered.

It was enough for him. He forced out the thought that the love play time was too short and stripped her nightgown down past her hips, leaving it to froth on the floor. He shed his unfastened breeches as he backed her to the bed. Her eyes were wide as he lifted her to the mattress, the blue only a slim rim around the black of her irises.

Her face was flushed, the skin of her chest pink. Her eyes dipped and darted back up to his as if she didn't dare look upon his body. He had no such qualms about looking his fill as he knelt on the bed and positioned her with her head on the pillow. He pushed her legs apart, the glimpse of her glistening woman's flesh sending a new agony of desire crashing through his already overloaded system.

She raised partway up, and he pushed her down, settling between her legs, his rod nudging the tender folds of her center. He bit back the urge to thrust forward. His body quaked in response to his demand for self-control.

"You're trembling," she whispered.

"Quite unusual, love. I don't usually. Are you ready for me?" He searched her eyes, regretting his haste, but helpless before his raging desire.

He'd wanted her too long. Long before she was his wife, long before she was even a grown woman. He'd wanted her that day he pulled her from the river. The knowledge was a revelation to him, yet not a surprise. On some level he must have always known he wanted her. He threaded his fingers through her short blonde curls and held her eyes with his.

Her face had gone from pink to fiery red and her embarrassment charmed him, amused him and frustrated him as he waited for her consent.

"Please, I think so." She bit her lip.

He kissed her tortured lip with his eyes wide open. Hers fluttered shut.

"No, Sophie, open your eyes."

He pushed his hips forward as she met his stare.

"Oh," she whispered. "Please."

Oh, was right. He slid into her flesh and met—

"Ow!"

—resistance.
Ow?
He shifted, wondering if he had the angle wrong like the greenest of boys and pushed forward again.

She dug with her heels, trying to get away from him.

"Sophie, I need you. Don't fight me."

His plea stopped her struggles. He stared into her eyes and his heart melted. "Ow" wasn't the most romantic sweet nothing he'd ever heard whispered in the heat of the moment, but coming from her it poured another layer of desire on his already befuddled wits. His pregnant wife was really a virgin?

Sophie fought to contain her panic. She wanted to please Keene, but he seemed to be asking her to contribute in ways she didn't know how.

Sensations so new and powerful rode through her on wave after wave, and she didn't know quite how to respond or channel the stormy sea of passions. Everything had gone so fast to this point. Her reactions tossed her around like a small ship at the mercy of titanic swells.

His gaze was so dark and penetrating she feared she would melt into him, yet it anchored her to him. He was her beacon in these uncharted waters.

But the hard push of his male part against her wasn't working. Yet he pressed into her with a relentless pressure, and she thought she might cry out again. Amelia had said there might be some pain, but that it was nothing, over in a trice.

"Sophie, darling, relax. Trust me, it will only hurt worse if you fight me."

The pressure against her eased, and she drew a deep breath. "It won't work. You're much too large to fit."

Keene grinned. "It will work."

He thrust his hips forward, this time he held her shoulders so she couldn't move away. The resistance of her body broke. He slid his shaft inside her, stretching and filling her to completion. The brief pain disintegrated to nothing. His groan resounded in her ears as he dipped his head down to her shoulder.

She marveled at the intimacy of his body within hers, his skin against hers, the beat of his heart so near her own, his breath caressing her face. This was as close to heaven as she'd ever been. This was love.

He lay perfectly still, except he quivered low like a bow stretched taut. She smoothed a hand over the tight muscles of his back and was surprised to find a light sheen of perspiration. In spite of what she'd said earlier to excuse removing her wrapper, the room was chilly. She wasn't cold with him lying over her, covering and warming her skin with his, but he didn't have her body blanketing him.

She turned and kissed his cheek where it lay so near her own. "You're trembling."

"I'm a dolt. I have gone much too fast for you, and I can't hold back." He propped himself on his elbows and stroked her face. His eyes so darkly disturbing to her before were full of tenderness and concern. "I don't want to hurt you, didn't want to hurt you."

"It doesn't hurt now."

His hips rocked, and she heaved in a startled breath at the coiling tight sensation that built where his body joined hers.

"You're certain?"

She nodded. His mouth found hers and began anew with the pleasure of kissing, while he slowly drew in and out of her, layering passion on top of pleasure. His movements grew more urgent, more desperate. Sophie writhed beneath him, seeking a harbor in the storm of her emotions and this new swelling tide of sensations. Yet, she knew the journey would end where it should, because she loved him with all her soul, and he must love her to share this so intimate and private pleasure with her.

He shuddered and groaned and thrust into her. A torrent of warm heat flooded her body as he slumped against her, his manhood pulsing within her, his breath coming in heavy gasps. She wasn't quite sure what had happened, but she knew he had burst through some dam and released himself into her.