The rapid way throat tightened reminded her that she had been trying to suppress a lot of emotions for so long. “Edward –”
“Tell me that you understand me.”
“I understand you,” she whispered.
“Good.” He raised a hand and gently tucked a loose strand of hair back from her face, his touch barely grazing her cheek. “I would like you to rely on me. That is all I ask. Let me carry some of what you carry. Allow yourself to use me as I am meant to be used. I am your husband. That must mean something, even in an arrangement such as ours.”
Phoebe felt her eyes fill with tears and she knew she couldn’t hide them anymore. But before they fell, he kissed her.
It was nothing like what she had expected. She had thought that whatever passed between them – after all of the high emotions and stubborn tension that had nearly smothered them – this would be like when he had a need to be met during the ball and had no qualms taking it until he was satisfied. But this... this was much different from anything they had shared together.
His lips moved over hers as though he had all the time in the world and intended to use every second of it. The kissesalternated between chaste pecks, brief brushes of his lips against hers, and then he crowded her against the door and slid his tongue into her mouth, deepening the kiss. Phoebe felt herself lean into him without meaning to, her hands rising to rest against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her palms and marveling, silent, at the fact that it seemed to match her own.
He drew back only long enough to look at her, his eyes dark in the firelight, his expression much more open than he had ever seen it.
“Come here,” he said softly.
He guided her to the edge of his bed and settled behind her, his chest warm and solid at her back, his arms a steady presence around her. His lips found the curve of her neck, unhurried, and she felt his fingers begin to work through the fastenings of her cloak, setting it aside before his hands moved to the laces of her gown. His touch remained as deliberate as each press of his lips against the nape of her neck and she felt herself gradually come undone.
“You frightened me tonight,” he murmured against her skin, low enough that she would have believed she imagined it if she had not felt the words against her skin. “Wandering about in the dark like that. Do not do it again.”
“I won't,” she breathed, and meant it entirely.
He turned her gently until she was facing him, her gown loose around her shoulders. She wondered what he thought of her, like this; bathed in the warm the firelight, with her hair tucked back and giving her scar no place to hide. His eyes roamed over her body, looking and studying and she felt exposed but somehow, she did not hate it.
He managed to disrobe her and as her dress made its way to the floor, he pulled her flush against his chest, with one hand around her throat and the other wrapped around her hip, tracing her soft curves.
“You are so remarkably stubborn,” he said against her skin, and somehow it sounded entirely like an endearment.
Phoebe laughed softly before she could stop herself, the sound surprising her. “You have no room to say so. I think we are more alike than either of us realize.”
“You are probably right,” he conceded, teasingly sinking his throat into her flesh.
Phoebe gasped, nearly distracted as his hand moved lower, slipping beneath the hem of her chemise slowly in a way that made her nerves shake. When his fingers found their way between her thighs and began to move in soft, gentle circles, she pressed her lips together and gripped the bedsheet beside her, the fabric bunching in her fist.
“Relax, darling,” he murmured and she forced herself to exhale, feeling as though every part of her was being struck by lightning.
His continued to hold her close, as his fingers coaxed a slow heat through her, sometimes sinking deep into her and when she moaned, he would return to gently stroking her folds. His lips moved steadily along the column of her throat, kissing her skin, sinking his teeth into the flesh she knew would not resist if he wanted to take a proper bite and she distantly hoped he would leave marks. It was profoundly different from before, in every way and she welcomed every new sensation.
“You are beautiful,” he told her as though it was an undisputed fact. “Particularly like this.”
She made a small, undignified sound and felt him smile against her neck.
He took his time with her, continuously leading her to the edge only to then drew back just slightly, until she was trembling and frustrated.
“Edward,” she managed, breathless. “Please. Do not be mean.”
“Tell me what you want,” he replied gently, his tone slightly teasing.
“You,” she admitted, past all pretense. “I want you. Please.”
He pressed his lips to her temple – tender, careful – before he lifted her chemise away and drew her gently back against the pillows. He shed his own clothes quickly, but when he settled above her, he had returned to his gradual pace. He kissed heragain, first on her cheek, and the ridge of her scar, tracing it so softly with his lips that she felt her eyes sting with something she could not name but knew she would never forget.
“You are extraordinary,” he whispered. “Quite extraordinary. Do you know that?”
“Edward –”
“Let me say it.” His eyes met hers, dark and serious in the firelight. “You work very hard. You are very brave. And you are mine to take care of, whether you would like that to be the case or not.”