Catching Captain Nash (Dashing Widows #6)(17)
“They’ll all know what we did,” she muttered, avoiding his eyes.
He rounded the polished mahogany table until he stood mere inches from her. “They might guess.”
“We can’t, Robert. What about Kerenza?” Morwenna bit her lip, and the sight of white teeth sinking into that pink, cushiony flesh only made him hotter. “Don’t you want to hear about your daughter?”
“Oh, yes. More than anything else. Almost anything else.” He was desperate to bury himself deep inside his wife, but he hadn’t completely surrendered to his primitive self. Last night, he hadn’t asked her what she wanted before he went ahead and took her. “Are you really going to deny me, Morwenna?”
Her pale hands fluttered up to her throat, and she looked charmingly indecisive. Well, it would be charming, if he didn’t feel like his balls were about to burst.
“No, I’m not going to deny you.”
A potent mixture of desire and relief kicked him in the gut. He sucked in a great gust of air, and his heart thundered with building anticipation. With greedy hands, he caught her up against him and kissed her again. Somewhere at the back of his mind, he recognized that after all she’d been through, she deserved his tenderness, his care. But he was so ravenous for her, it was as if last night’s fierce loving had never happened.
And she’d borne his child. This willowy body had grown round with his baby. Thinking of that made him want her even more.
Their mouths met in wild union. He couldn’t get enough of the taste of her. He sucked her tongue into his mouth, and she made a choked sound of approval. Then another moan when he curved his hands over her breasts, rolling the pointed nipples between his fingers through the frail barrier of her dress.
“By God, I need to kiss your breasts,” he grated, hating how the high neck of her dress kept him from touching her skin. “Why the devil did you wear this damned stupid rag?”
She gave a cracked laugh. “Because this damned stupid rag hides what you did to me last time you touched me.”
His hands tightened on the lush flesh. “I’ll burn it.”
“No, you most certainly won’t,” she said on a shocked laugh, even as he pushed her until her back collided with the wall between the two sets of French doors. If any blasted fool did decide to brave the rain and venture into the garden, he and Morwenna would remain out of sight.
A gasp of excitement escaped Morwenna as she hit the wall, then another longer gasp when he shoved up her frothy skirts, found the slit in her drawers and stroked between her legs. He met sleek heat, blatant evidence of female desire. He brushed his thumb across the center of her pleasure and basked in how she shivered with uncontrollable response. A rush of liquid warmth greeted his daring caresses, promised a fervent welcome when he thrust inside.
He kissed her again, all seeking and passion. His memory of making love to his bride was of sweetness and innocence awakening into fiery sensuality. But this woman met him as an equal, demanded her share in what sizzled between them.
When she tangled avid hands in his hair to bring his head down for more kisses, he was overcome with awed delight. It was his turn to shiver when she lowered those insistent hands to the fastenings of his trousers.
“Don’t rip them,” he muttered as she hauled on the buttons. “If you do, Silas will never let me hear the end of it.”
She gave another choked huff of laughter, but he noticed she became more careful. Too careful by far.
“Damn it, you’re driving me mad,” he muttered, scraping his teeth along her neck until she trembled like a flower in the wind.
He’d wanted her last night. But this was more powerful. He’d never been as desperate for a woman, for anything. And her clumsy attempts to free him threatened to incinerate the last shreds of his control.
He brushed her hands aside and in a couple of rough movements, freed his cock. She gave another choked sound of appreciation, and her impatient fingers curled around him. The sensation of her hand pumping him made him shake and groan. He bumped his hips forward, as she raised one leg to curl it around his hips.
“That’s my girl,” he grunted and caught her buttocks, hoisting her up to position her ready for him. The rich scent of her need teased his nostrils and made his head spin.
The world had shrunk to black velvet heat. There was neither past nor future. Just this woman and her sumptuous passion.
“Oh, Robert...”
The sigh of surrender brought an end to restraint. On a long groan, he sank deep inside her.
”Yes,” he hissed in reverence, as she clenched around him in immediate, astounding female climax. She was quaking and gasping, her breath hot against the side of his face as she struggled to inhale through shuddering ecstasy.
He held on—barely—as the ripples of her pleasure gradually subsided. Then he thrust once, twice, and gave himself up to her in a gush of endless love and need.
Even when it was over, the remnants of that mighty release left him shaking. Panting, he released his bruising grip on her hips and shuddered anew as her legs slipped to the ground, breaking the union of their bodies.
In gratitude too extreme for words, he buried his head in her shoulder where he’d wrenched her dress aside. The sultry scent of satisfied female flooded his senses and calmed the mad rush of his heart. She stroked his hair and made a soft sound of contentment.