A Little Bit Sinful(61)

He reached around her body and cupped her breasts as he nibbled the tender flesh at her neck. She leaned back against him, her bare bottom pressed against his erection. He looped one arm around her waist and held her close to him.

“I want you, Chrissy,” he said against her ear.

She nodded, but had no words in response.

His hand slid down her stomach. She sucked in a breath. His fingers parted between her pubic hair and he found her slick with want. He closed his eyes to try to reign in his own desire so he could last for her, have time to pleasure her.

He turned her swiftly so he could kiss her again. She met his kiss with a fierce passion, a passion only for him. This woman, she was his perfect fit. He lifted her gently and put her on the bed, then climbed on beside her. She smelled of lavender, lemon, and desire.

He kissed her. His finger found her wetness and the tiny nub and he moved against it.

She parted her legs further opening herself to him. “Yes, yes,” she hissed.

He positioned himself atop her and moved to her opening, then kissing her gently, he pushed himself into her. She was slick for him, so tight.

“Oh God, Chrissy.”

He kept his hand between them moving against her while she adjusted to his invasion. When she raised her legs, wrapped them around his waist, he knew she was ready.

Gone were his thoughts of trying to take things slowly. He pushed in and out loving the deepness of her. Faster and harder he pushed until he heard her yell his name then saw her clench the sheets while her body shook with her release. It only took one more thrust before he spilled his seed. He leaned against her back for a moment listening to her heavy breathing and quiet moans. He’d never felt desire this intense with any other woman.

He lay down beside her, pulled the coverlet up to their waists. He traced his finger along her collarbone.

“That made me feel a little bit sinful,” she said with a delicious grin.

“Nothing sinful about it. We are married now.” He pulled her against him so her head rested against his chest. Something in that moment felt so right he nearly stood to leave, but he forced himself to stay where he was. He couldn’t run any longer. Not from Chrissy. She deserved better.

And while she’d deserved better than him, she had married him so he’d have to prove to her and everyone else that he could be a good husband.

…

Clarissa stirred her tea and listened to Ella’s mother, Lady Weaver, catalogue all of the fashion mistakes from the soiree they had attended the previous evening. She had been invited over to their house for refreshments that afternoon and Clarissa had welcomed the outing. She knew that it was Ella’s way of letting her know that simply because she had married Justin did not mean she was no longer welcomed in their home.

“I don’t know how it’s possible for Eleanor Banks to find that many dresses in so many shades of green. And she doesn’t look good in any of them. It’s a mystery,” Lady Weaver said. She tapped her spoon onto the side of her teacup, then took a sip.

In the carriage on the way here, Clarissa had decided what she must do. She could not stand by and allow people to say disparaging things about her husband. It had been one thing when they’d been friends, but now she bore his name. She had an obligation to support him. She thought back to the evening she and Ella had overheard that conversation about Justin and the mystery of his mother’s identity. The women discussing it had been quite nasty. But if it was true, what one of them had said, that Justin’s mother was French royalty, if Clarissa could prove that, then it might change how people saw him, how they treated him.

She considered exactly how she would ask her question, but she knew if there was information on Justin’s mother, then Lady Weaver would know, or at the very least know whom they could ask.

“How was the wedding, dear?” she asked Clarissa.

The night she shared in Justin’s bed with filled her mind. She felt the heat of blush in her cheeks and she brought the teacup to her lips. “It was quick, nothing too exciting. I suppose that’s the way when you have a rush marriage.” She had spoken too quickly, jumping from one sentence to the next. “Thank you for inviting me over for tea.”

Ella eyed her suspiciously, but Clarissa merely smiled in return.

Now was as good a time as any so her friend wouldn’t pry in front of her mother. “I was wondering. Several nights ago Ella and I overheard a conversation about my,” she took a breath, “husband.”

“Yes, yes, handsome devil, that one,” Lady Weaver said. “Consider yourself lucky to have snagged him.”