Always Proper, Suddenly Scandalous (Scandalous Seasons #3)(87)

Geoffrey increased his rhythm, driving into the hot, molten warmth of her, and Abigail met his wild thrusts.

“Geoffrey!” she cried. “I believe…that is…I think...something…oh my….!” A soft scream burst from her lips as she came undone in his arms, bucking wildly, and then Geoffrey joined her, falling over the precipice of desire. He turned his body over to that which he had craved since the moment he’d stepped upon her hem. He spilled his seed deep inside. His harsh, guttural groans blended with her high, breathy moans.

Geoffrey collapsed. He rolled off Abigail, and pulled her close to his side, unable to open his eyes, unable to think, or move, or….

“Geoffrey?” Abigail whispered. She turned on her side to face him, and tapped him on the chin. “Are you sleeping?”

“I’m not,” he said. His body stirred again, filled with desire for her.

“Was I, that is,” she cleared her throat. “Was it acceptable?”

A languid smile formed on his lips. He reached for her.

“Again?” she squeaked.

He caressed the generous curve of her buttocks.

Her eyes widened as he stirred against her.

“Again,” he whispered. “What do you have to say to that, wife?”

She smiled, and brushed a strand of hair from his forehead. He parted her thighs and reentered her. Her mouth fell open. “Oh.”

“Oh, indeed.”

Then, he proceeded to show her the true meaning of that single utterance.

***

Abigail woke a short while later. Geoffrey stroked his hand up and down the curve of her hip, and she leaned into his touch. “Have I told you I loved you?” His lips caressed the sensitive flesh where her neck met her ear, and she giggled as his breath tickled her skin.

“You have,” she assured him. In fact… “Eight times.”

Geoffrey rolled onto his back and pulled her against him. “You’ve counted?”

She nodded against his chest, a delicious shiver ran down her languid frame as he turned his attention to the swell of her breasts.

“Is that all?”

Abigail fought through the thick fog of desire that clouded her senses, confused his words. “I-I’m c-certain of it,” she managed on a gasping breath as he moved his tender ministrations higher, to the nape of her neck.

He pulled back and flicked his finger along the tip of her nose. “Well, that will never do. I love you.” He kissed her lips. “I love you.” He kissed her again. “I love you.”

She leaned up, and rested her arms upon his muscled chest, liberally sprinkled with springy brown hair. “Can one die of happiness?”

He snorted, and rubbed smooth circles over her back. “I certainly hope not.”

A smile played about her lips.

“You do know you’ve still not opened your gift,” he said casually.

She blinked. Her gaze flitted over to the now thoroughly rumpled looking package. The top of the box had been crushed on top. Abigail scrambled up onto her knees.

Geoffrey reached for her, but she swatted him away. “Behave.” She opened the box, and the air left her on a whoosh.

Geoffrey cleared his throat. “Do you like it? If you do not I’m certain I can have something different commissioned.”

Wordlessly, Abigail withdrew the golden crown, encrusted with seven, large oval-shaped diamonds. Her eyes flew to his. The piece must have cost a small fortune.

“You once told me of the story of the Corona Borealis. The fool, Theseus abandoned the beautiful Ariadne, deserting her. Then there was her…

“Dionysus,” she whispered.

He nodded. “Who loved her the way she deserved to be loved.” Geoffrey reached for the crown and gently took it from between her fingers. “I do not want to be your Theseus, Abigail.” He carefully placed the jeweled piece atop her head. “I want to be your Dionysus.”

Tears filled her eyes. “Oh, Geoffrey,” she whispered. “You foolish man. I do not need a mythical god. I have something so much more than that.”

Geoffrey cupped her cheek in the palm of his hand. “What is that, sweet?”

She leaned into his touch, a smile upon her lips. “Why, I have a very proper lord.”





A gentleman recognizes the importance of being truthful and forthright in all matters.

Geoffrey Winters, 5th Viscount Redbrooke





Epilogue


Arms clasped behind his back, Geoffrey stared out his office window, down into the bustling street below.

Abigail touched her hands to his shoulder, and turned her cheek against his back. “Are you all right, husband?”

Husband. They’d been wed now these two months, and this had served as the happiest, most uncomplicated aspect of his thirty years. Abigail filled him with joy and hope…and made him forget for an infinitesimal moment the purpose of his mother and sister’s impending visit.

Geoffrey turned around and began to pace. “I’ve matters of business to attend, Abby. I have the ledgers…and then there is also the shipping venture your brother would like to speak with me on…and…” His gaze moved away from the gentle understanding he saw reflected in the deep gray-blue irises of her eyes.

And…