Page 93 of The Quiet Wife
Jemie pulled back to study her. “If I was ever fortunate enough to have you share my bed, I want it to be because you truly want me. Not to get back at Fred.”
She stiffened because hearing it phrased in such a manner made her feel terrible.
“No, no, no…” he drew her back into his arms and held her tightly. “Don’t misunderstand me. It’s just that you are not the kind of woman who would have a quick tumble with a man and think nothing of it. I couldn’t bear it if you regretted it afterwards. I care too much about you for that.”
She swallowed and hid her face in his shoulder.
“I don’t think that you’ve had a happy time in the marital bed, have you?”
She shook her head.
“So, if I was lucky enough to make love to you, I would want at least a couple of hours, preferably a week, in bed with you to show you the pleasures and delights that are to be had.”
She looked up and blinked. “Aweek?”
His lips twitched. “Maybe two?”
“You are teasing me.” She was sure he was.
He shook his head. “I’m not.”
“It only takes a few minutes. Why do you need hours or days?”
Jemie looked pained. He swallowed. “To teach you, my darling, that lovemaking, proper lovemaking, takes a lot longer than a few minutes.”
She wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that, it was all she could do to endure a few moments of Frederick on top of her.
“How long does Fred spend kissing you before he…” Jemie waved a hand suggestively.
“He stopped kissing me after Fannie was born.”
Jemie blinked. “I see. Did you like kissing him?”
Frances thought for a little while, then nodded. “It was… pleasant.”
“Did you like kissing me?”
Heat landed on her face with the force of a hurricane, but she held firm and nodded again.
He cupped her face in both hands, angled his head, and moved slowly, so slowly that she had every opportunity to pull away.
She didn’t.
His lips touched hers in the gentlest of caresses, and her eyes fluttered closed. He sipped softly at her lips and then pulled away to look at her.
She opened her eyes and saw he was breathing heavily.
“More?” he said in a voice that was husky. She nodded wondering if that was the effect she had on him.
He pulled her to him again, but slid one hand around her waist, allowing her to put her arms about his neck. He kissed her again, but this time it was more of a deep kiss and less of a caress. His mouth was warm and wonderful, his breath soft on her cheek. He moaned softly, making her gasp. Now it was she who was breathing heavily.
He touched her chin with his thumb, opening her mouth. “Like this,” he whispered, and pressed his open mouth to hers, and kissed her deeply, rhythmically, and Frances clung to him and returned the embrace with fervour, catching on quickly and falling into a natural rhythm with him, as if this was the way things were supposed to be between them. They kissed for what seemed like an age until she pulled away, trembling all over, her body tingling as her heart raced.
“Passion,” she whispered, pressing shaking hands to her cheeks to gather herself. “This is passion, isn’t it?”
He swallowed and pressed his lips to her forehead. “This is passion.”
“Oh Jemie.” She breathed, beginning to see that she might have been missing something all these years.
