Forever Betrothed, Never the Bride (Scandalous Seasons #1)(79)

Feeling his eyes on her, Emmaline glanced at him. “What?”

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured, a husky tone underlying his words.

Her cheeks heated and she dipped her head. Though there was an easy sense of comfort in being with Drake, there was also some awkwardness in the dramatic shift that had occurred in their situation. Her lips tipped at the corner.

“Why the catlike smile, love?”

“I was thinking about all the times when I was a girl that I would practice twining my name with yours. And now you’re my husband.”

Emmaline settled into his side, burrowing herself close. She stretched her legs out on the seat in front of them. Her movements upset the forgotten gift. It tumbled to the floor.

Drake reached down and rescued the gift, handing it to Emmaline. “I must admit to some curiosity as to what your brother gifted us.”

“Me, too,” she said, almost hesitant to open the package. With Sebastian one could never be sure. She unwrapped the gift and opened the top of the box to reveal— A burst of laughter escaped Emmaline.

***

Drake shook his head in consternation. A bonnet? It seemed a peculiar gift choice.

At that moment, however, he did not want to think of Mallen. Or his rather odd gift habits. Through hooded lids, he studied Emmaline and thoughts of finally making love to her made him harden in anticipation. Playing with the ribbons of her new gift, she seemed impervious to the tension in his tightly coiled body. He reached over and tugged her unceremoniously onto his lap.

A squeak squeezed past her lips.

He tangled his fingers behind her nape, angling her head. “I have been longing to do this all day,” he whispered and then brought her mouth to his. It wasn’t a chaste meeting of lips. This was a kiss without reservations. It was hot. Demanding. Seeking.

Emmaline twined her arms about his neck and tilted her head back to deepen the kiss. She opened her mouth to his and their tongues collided in a violent exchange. Drake’s hands roamed a path over her body, exploring each angle, each curve that had fascinated him since he’d seen her save an old beggar woman in the streets. Aching for more, he held her fast so her center was pressed against his hard shaft.

Emmaline pulled back a little, her eyes clouded with passion. “I want to touch you like you touched me.”

Drake groaned, and kissed her again. He shifted her so she was seated astride one of his hard thighs. The fine silk of her ivory gown, rucked up about her legs, leant her an air of wantonness that thrilled him to the core. Just the sight of her made his shaft ache.

He ran his hands over her creamy white thighs. “You are so soft.” His fingers trailed higher and higher until he found her center drenched with desire. She was hotter than the sun on a summer day.

A hiss escaped Emmaline’s teeth and of their own volition, her hips began undulating. Her untried movements brought her flush with the rigid line of his manhood.

“Oh, God,” she moaned, arching into him. Her moan became a soft, pleading scream. Her head fell backwards. “Drake,” she begged.

“That’s it,” he whispered, his fingers continued to work her.

She cried out in protest when he eased his fingers out of her hot warmth. He set about undoing the fastidious row of pearl buttons along the back of her gown and in short order had her naked from waist down. His hand closed over a small round breast, fondling it, until she sagged against him. “Perfect,” he murmured hoarsely into her mouth. He trailed a finger across a turgid red nipple, and then pressed his lips to the bud.

A small scream escaped Emmaline and she threw her head back, sending her chocolate wave cascading around them like a silken curtain. He continued suckling the sensitive tip of her breast until she was whimpering with incoherent desire.

Then Drake inserted a leg between her legs and anchored her atop his muscled thigh until she let out a keening cry, thrusting upon his leg.

“Please,” she panted, and ground her center against his thigh.

Drake reached down and released himself from his breeches, at last allowing his aching cock the freedom it craved.

Emmaline’s unrestrained movements ground to a halt at the sight of his erection. She froze. “You’re huge,” she said breathless with passion.

Drake laughed. It came out more of a pained. He guided her hand to his shaft and encouraged her to explore the swollen length. A groan escaped him, as she wrapped her delicate fingers about him and moved them up and down.

“It feels like satin,” she said.

Drake’s eyes closed when her emboldened fingers worked him. He couldn’t drum up one rationale thought. A guttural groan emerged low in his throat, escaping from some primitive part deep inside him.

As though enflamed by his desire, she moved up and down on his oaken thigh with a frenzy. Her body stiffened, her finger froze on his shaft, and she was coming in waves upon his thigh. Her keening cry rent the quiet of the carriage as she collapsed atop him, fingers still curled tightly about his length.

Drake placed a kiss at her temple, where a faint sheen of perspiration clung to her.

Emmaline glanced up, her eyes clouded with desire. “I want to pleasure you,” she said huskily. “Show me.” It wasn’t a question.

Drake’s eyes closed. He wanted to wait. Wanted to wait for the moment she was in his bed, under him, and he was thrusting between her sweet thighs.