The Viscount Who Loved Me (Bridgertons, #2)(88)

He was glad she couldn’t see him smile. “You are most definitely not relaxed.”

Her eyes flew open. “Yes, I am.”

“I can’t believe this,” Anthony said, as if there were someone else in the room to hear him. “She’s arguing with me on our wedding night.”

“I’m—”

He cut her off with a finger to her lips. “Are you ticklish?”

“Am I ticklish?”

He nodded. “Ticklish.”

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why?”

“That sounds like a yes to me,” he said with a grin.

“Not at—Oooohhh!” She let out a squeal as one of his hands found a particularly sensitive spot under arm. “Anthony, stop!” she gasped, squirming desperately beneath him. “I can’t bear it! I—”

He plunged forward.

“Oh,” she breathed. “Oh, my.”

He groaned, barely able to believe just how good it felt to be buried completely within her. “Oh, my, indeed.”

“We’re not done now, are we?”

He shook his head slowly as his body began to move in an ancient rhythm. “Not even close,” he murmured.

His mouth took hers as one of his hands snaked up to caress her breast. She was utter perfection beneath him, her hips rising to meet his, moving tentatively at first, then with a vigor that matched her rising passion.

“Oh, God, Kate,” he moaned, his ability to form flowery sentences completely lost in the primitive heat of the moment. “You’re so good. So good.”

Her breath was coming faster and faster, and each little wispy gasp inflamed his passion even more. He wanted to possess her, to own her, to hold her beneath him and never let her go. And with each thrust it was getting more difficult to put her needs before his. His mind screamed that this was her first time and he had to have a care for her, but his body demanded release.

With a ragged groan, he forced himself to stop thrusting and catch his breath. “Kate?” he said, barely recognizing his own voice. It sounded hoarse, detached, desperate.

Her eyes, which had been closed as her head tossed from side to side, flew open. “Don’t stop,” she gasped, “please don’t stop. I’m so close to something…I don’t know what.”

“Oh, God,” he groaned, plunging back in to the hilt, throwing his head back as his spine arched. “You’re so beautiful, so unbelievably—Kate?”

She’d stiffened beneath him, and not in climax.

He froze. “What’s wrong?” he whispered.

He saw a brief flash of pain—the emotional sort, not the physical—flash across her face before she hid it and whispered, “Nothing.”

“That’s not true,” he said in a low voice. His arms were straining from holding himself above her, but he barely noticed. Every fiber of his being was focused on her face, which was shuttered and pained, despite her obvious attempts to hide it.

“You called me beautiful,” she whispered.

For a good ten seconds he just stared at her. For the life of him, he couldn’t understand how that was a bad thing. But then again, he’d never professed to understand the female mind. He thought he should simply reaffirm the statement, that she was beautiful, and what the hell was the problem, but a little voice inside warned him that this was one of those moments, and no matter what he said, it would be the wrong thing, so he decided to tread very, very carefully, and he just murmured her name, which he had a feeling might be the only word guaranteed not to get him into trouble.

“I’m not beautiful,” she whispered, her eyes meeting his. She looked shattered and broken, but before he could contradict her, she asked, “Who were you picturing?”

He blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“Who do you think of when you make love to me?”

Anthony felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. The breath whooshed from his body. “Kate,” he said slowly. “Kate, you’re mad, you’re—”

“I know a man doesn’t have to feel desire for a woman to find pleasure with her,” she cried out.

“You think I don’t desire you?” he choked out. God in heaven, he was ready to explode right now within her and he hadn’t even moved for the last thirty seconds.

Her lower lip trembled between her teeth, and a muscle spasmed in her neck. “Do you—do you think of Edwina?”

Anthony froze. “How could I possibly confuse the two of you?”

Kate felt her face crumple, felt hot tears stinging at her eyes. She didn’t want to cry in front of him, oh, God, especially not now, but it hurt, it hurt so much, and—

His hand grasped her cheeks with stunning speed, forcing her to look up at him.

“Listen to me,” he said, his voice even and intense, “and listen well, because I’m only going to say this once. I desire you. I burn for you. I can’t sleep at night for wanting you. Even when I didn’t like you, I lusted for you. It’s the most maddening, beguiling, damnable thing, but there it is. And if I hear one more word of nonsense from your lips, I’m going to have to tie you to the bloody bed and have my way with you a hundred different ways, until you finally get it through your silly skull that you are the most beautiful and desirable woman in England, and if everyone else doesn’t see that, then they’re all bloody fools.”