Bound by Bliss (Bound and Determined #2)(62)
She would not leave, not now, not when her fantasies might be fulfilled.
Chapter Sixteen
She could do this. She wanted to do this. It might take courage, but Bliss had never been one to back down.
It was only a body. Everybody had a body. Duldon had seen naked women before. It wasn’t like anything she had was going to surprise him.
Her feet still hesitated as she turned to face the bed, but deep inside a confidence was growing. It was strange that she should feel a sense of power doing something so submissive, but there was no denying the feeling.
Her hands landed on the deep padded leather of the footboard. It was firm but soft, and just the right height for hips to bend across with only the slightest lift of her toes. She could feel Duldon moving behind her but she did not turn her head. At this moment she would concentrate only on herself. She pressed her hips against the footboard, feeling the give. The position would not be uncomfortable to hold.
Now, for the harder part. Placing a hand at each hip, she began to inch up her skirts, her fingers slowly gathering the fabric. When she reached her upper thighs she paused. This was difficult. A desire to look over her shoulder and see Duldon’s expression grew, but she resisted. What if he did not look pleased? What if he did? It would be much worse if he was not pleased, did not find her attractive. Did men find such things attractive? She supposed they did. Mr. Binkshaw had glowed with hunger as he’d stared at his wife’s secret places. And Lord Banks had put his mouth there. Surely a man would not put his mouth somewhere he did not find desirable. What did she look like there? Pink, she knew. And undoubtedly shiny and wet, based on the feeling of her thighs. Duldon had indicated that men found such moisture attractive. Had he truly meant it?
A low chuckle sounded from behind. “Only you would start to think about something else right now.”
“I am not thinking about something else. I am wondering if I am attractive, there, between my legs. It is a rather strange concept and one I’ve never stopped to consider. A lady may wonder about her shoulders, her smile, her breasts, but her—her cunny? What woman considers if her cunny is attractive? What if you don’t like it? I am not sure I could bear it if you did not like it. I am hairy there, you know? The Greek nudes never have hair. Although not as hairy as Mrs. Binkshaw. And I didn’t see Julianna in the library, well, I did, but only in a kind of shadowy way, so I have no idea what she looks like. I don’t even quite know what Mrs. Binkshaw looks like. The angle was never quite right. I don’t even know what I look like. It is my own body and I don’t know what it truly looks like. Is that odd? Do other women know what their cunnies look like? And what about behinds or asses, as you call them? Are they attractive? I know that women like to stare at men, but they are so well-defined in tight breeches and trousers. If men like women’s asses why do we hide them beneath skirts? Or do you only like them when they are naked? I would have to say I can enjoy a man’s ass whether clothed or bare. I am not even sure which I prefer, although I have to admit I have seen far more of them clothed than naked. I do like your ass. I can tell how much you ride in its tightness and when you wear buckskins I can make out all the muscles in your thighs. Did you know that—how much your breeches sometimes show? And I am not the only one looking.” She peered over her shoulder at him.
Duldon was staring at her now. It was impossible to tell whether he was about to laugh or order her to be quiet. “You do ramble when you are nervous, don’t you? And you don’t care about what. Did you really just tell me you like my ass?”
She had, hadn’t she? Feeling the flush rising hot on her cheeks, she turned back to stare at the far wall, and then stopped, looking up. “There’s a mirror above the bed, under the canopy.”
“Yes, there is. I thought you might like it.”
“Why would I like it? It seems a strange place for a mirror.”
He let out a long sigh. “Well, you do like to watch.”
She considered, looked up at the mirror and then down. “But watching myself? I am not sure about that.”
“You were just speaking of those parts of yourself that you had not seen. Perhaps this way you will see them and also see my appreciation of them.”
That was true. And she would get to see him as well. If they ever made it to that part of the evening. This did seem to be taking forever, which was her fault. She was the one who kept delaying, and thinking, and talking and talking.
She pulled in a breath so large her breasts expanded over the top of her corset. If she was going to do this, it had to be done.
Grabbing the sides of her skirt, she pulled it high and bent forward over the bottom edge of the bed, burying her face in the coverlet so that Duldon would not see her heavy color.
He stiffened behind her. She could feel the air freeze and knew he stared at her. God, she was glad he could not see her face. This was unbearable. He was looking at her, seeing a piece of her that no one had ever seen, that no one but her husband should ever see. And even with a husband it should have been only in faint moonlight, not the glare of lamp and candle.
“You are very, very beautiful, every piece of you,” Duldon’s voice whispered from behind.
The words brought some reassurance. She could hear the husk of desire in them, hear his want. He did not lie just to appease her nerves. She turned her head slightly to the side, not enough to see, but enough to bring air to her lungs.