Sweat broke out on his forehead as he massaged her thighs. Slowly but steadily, he worked his way upward. When he got to the juncture between leg and buttock, he traced the delectable curve with his tongue. When she shivered in response, he gently bit her with his teeth. Once, twice, three times.
He lifted his head and gave it a shake, reminding himself that this was for her. He tried to slow his breathing.
He returned to his work with renewed resolve. As he pulled her shift up, she lifted her hips and then her chest and head. He had her naked at last.
God have mercy, his wife was beautiful.
His wife.
He straddled her to rub her back. With slow deliberation, he worked his way over every inch. Then he ran his fingers in light circles over her back. He felt himself grow harder and harder with anticipation as he swept his hands closer and closer, until at last his fingers touched the soft, full curve of the sides of her breasts.
Feeling her stir at the touch, he clenched his jaw until it ached. He wanted to feel her breasts in his hands, her nipples hard beneath his palms.
He took a deep breath.
Hoping he could keep himself in check, he leaned on his forearms to kiss her neck. His chest brushed against her back, sending a jolt of hot lust through him. He squeezed his eyes shut against the urge to rub his throbbing cock against her backside. If he did, he would never last.
For a long moment, he remained poised over her, his breath coming hard and fast. All he could think of was lifting her hips and entering her from behind.
He opened his eyes as she rolled over to face him. Her amused smile told him she knew exactly what he’d been thinking. Eyes twinkling, she shook her head at him. He was pleased to see a hint of the playfulness she used to show him in bed.
“Aye, ’tis much too soon,” he agreed. Sighing dramatically, he fell beside her and took her in his arms.
“It is good to be here with you like this,” he said, and kissed the tip of her nose.
“Mmmm,” she murmured, squeezing closer.
She gave him an openmouthed kiss that made him forget his name. As they kissed, he slid his hands between her legs. It took the breath out of him when he felt how hot and wet she was. She would kill him for certain. She pressed against him as if wanting to melt into him.
Keeping his hand on her, he eased himself down on the bed until he could take her breast in his mouth. When he did, he heard her sharp intake of breath. He loved to hear the sounds she made. He slowly slid his finger in and out of her as he flicked his tongue over her nipple, listening to the change in her breathing.
His heart pounded in his ears as he sucked harder, and she moaned and moved against his hand. At first, he ignored her insistent pull on his shoulders. He was set on bringing her to release the first time before he entered her. But when she persisted, he obeyed.
Hovering over her, he gave her a long wet kiss. When she wrapped her legs around him, the battle was lost. He slid deep inside her in one forceful stroke.
Good God! The rush that went through him blinded him and left him shuddering. It was all he could do to stop himself from spilling his seed at once. He found her mouth. Their tongues slid together as he moved back and forth against her as slowly as he could bear.
When she increased the rhythm, he could not find his voice to tell her she must stop. She was relentless and he loved it. She arched her back, letting her head fall over the side of the bed. Her breath came in short gasps as he felt her tighten around his shaft.
And then she called his name. She was his. She was his.
With her cries ringing in his ears, urging him on, he pounded into her, again and again, until sight and sound were obliterated in an explosion that was near death.
He could barely keep from collapsing with his full weight on top of her. Breathing hard and dripping with sweat, he let his forehead rest on the bed beside her head.
“God in heaven, what have you done to me, Catherine?”
When he heard her low chuckle, a wave of tenderness swept over him. How long since he had made her laugh? He pulled her into his arms as he sank down beside her.
He lay with his face buried in her hair.
“I wish I did not have to leave you so soon,” he whispered.
He needed more time. Time to heal her, to heal himself, to be with her like this. With a sense of desperation, he turned to her again and again in the night. In the heat of passion, Catherine told him she loved him.
But William—though he tried to show her with his every touch—could not yet confess his love aloud.
Chapter Eighteen