Penelope and Prince Charming (Nvengaria #1)(61)
Penelope’s blush spread. “Only two gentlemen asked to marry me, and neither wanted me very much. Perhaps Magnus did, but in an unsavory way. He did not want me in particular, I have realized. Any young woman would have done.”
Damien’s brows drew down. “If I ever see this Magnus, I promise I will skewer him. Perhaps only two men proposed to you, sweet, but I wager many more wanted you. They said nothing because you were an unmarried miss, and in this country, it is most improper to say such things. In Nvengaria, I will have to fight off my rivals with a very sharp sword.”
Penelope shook her head. “You give me Spanish coin. And yet, I so want to believe you.”
“These are not flattering lies, Penelope. If I am charming you, it is only because I am trying to keep myself from throwing you on the bed and simply taking what I want. You deserve for me to ravish you slowly.”
Penelope’s heart hammered. “I do not want to be slow. I feel quite … urgent.” She kissed his scraped flesh, which was clean now, and damp.
“Urgent.” His breath was hot on her temple. “A good way of saying it.”
Penelope’s body was one pulse of heat, barely letting her see. “What do I do? I don’t know what I am supposed to do.”
Damien threaded his fingers through her hair, loosening it. “Will you unfasten your bodice for me, love? I want to look at you.”
Penelope should never dream of doing such a thing, but Damien’s voice was compelling, his gaze making her warm. And they were to be married after all. Her fingers were clumsy as she reached to unhook the five clips that held the bodice together in the back, and the fabric loosened.
* * *
Damien tried to keep his impatience at bay. He should move slowly with her, introduce her to the world of pleasure at a gentle pace. But the prophecy wasn’t having any of it. Damien wanted to be inside her, and the need grew more frantic by the minute.
He reached around her and pulled the placket apart, hooks tearing from the threads that held them. Penelope jumped in surprise, but the look in her eyes told him she was just as impatient as he.
With Damien’s help, Penelope slid the bodice from her shoulders, baring her arms and the half-stays that held her breasts snug. Then she rose and dropped the gown down her body, revealing a fine lawn underskirt.
Quickly, she stepped out of the dress then shook it out and carefully laid it on a chair. Damien hid a grin at her practicality, but enjoyed watching her move.
Penelope returned to stand before him, lovely in her undress. The underskirt softly brushed her legs, and her breasts lifted against the press of the stays.
“Would you like me to help you with your boots?” she asked.
Damien’s heartbeat sped. Normally he did not consider removing boots to be sensual, but offered by his newly bound life-mate, from lips full and red, it became suddenly desirable. For answer, he held out his left foot.
Penelope grasped his boot above his ankle, her stance giving him a heady glimpse of the shadow between her breasts. Muscles in her arms worked as she tugged at the stubborn boot.
It came away all at once and Penelope staggered back, nearly sitting down on the chair behind her. “Oop!”
Damien rose, balancing on his right foot. “Are you all right?”
Penelope straightened up, looked at the boot in her hand, looked at his stockinged foot in the air, and began to laugh.
It was a merry sound, true laughter, with none of the strain of the last weeks. Her eyes lit, her red mouth curved, and her body shook in a delightful way.
In two seconds, Damien had his other boot off and was seizing her by the arms. Penelope still laughed, holding the boot between them, and he kissed her, dragging that laughter inside him.
He wanted to tell her he loved her, but need swallowed all words and all thought. He took the boot and dropped it on the floor, then crushed his hands through her hair and pulled her against him.
Damien kissed her lips, her cheek, her temple, her hair, warm and tangled. He leaned to nibble at her shoulder, catching the lace strap of her stays in his teeth. Her shaking fingers rubbed his arms through his shirt with a desperation that matched his own.
Damien unhooked her stays and pulled them from her body, then yanked apart the laces of her chemise. He caught the weight of her breasts in his hands as they tumbled free, the tips darkening. Penelope watched him, her eyes heavy.
Need wound into a wild frenzy, something inside Damien screaming finish this!
He lifted Penelope and quickly carried her to the bed. Damien laid her on the yielding mattress, and she rose up on her elbows while he tore at the buttons of his trousers. Petri would kill him for ruining the suit, but Damien couldn’t stop for neatness. He pulled the trousers off, then his stockings, dropping all in a pile on the floor. He looked up to see Penelope watching him, her green gaze traveling with interested thoroughness down his torso to his cock standing straight out.
Her scrutiny would be flattering were Damien not so frantic. He climbed onto the bed, and Penelope lay back, her hair haloing against the pillows, her eyes dark under the canopy’s shadow. Her hands rested on either side of her head, soft and limp, not fighting him.
Damien unfastened the ribbons that held her underskirt in place and drew the garment away. Penelope wriggled her hips, helping him pull it from under her. He tossed it away and got lost in looking at the woman bared to him.
Her legs were shapely, thighs plump, rounded calves filling out her silk stockings, slender feet in beaded slippers. A twist of golden hair showed between her legs, already glistening with moisture. He lowered his head and licked it. Penelope started, her gasp loud in the quiet.