Page 10 of The Inconvenient Compromise
The physical intimacies of marriage would cloud her judgment. They would weaken her resolve to remain impervious to him. In short, being intimate with him would make her vulnerable. It would give him the power to hurt her, and that was terrifying. But as frightening as it was, if she made no effort to make theirs a true marriage, he could rightfully, and likely would, cast her off. He was a titled gentleman who would need an heir—to secure the line and meet the terms of his inheritance. There was too much at stake for her to be missish about it. It was best for both of their sakes to simply proceed.
“Is this… should we wait for nightfall?” she asked.
“Certainly not,” he said. “Darkness is not a requirement, Fiona. In fact, I should much prefer the enjoyment of seeing you in sunlight… well, what little there is.”
Fiona nodded. “Right. How exactly does one begin this sort of thing?”
The moment the question escaped her, he moved away from the window, stalking toward the bed with a kind of predatory grace.
She wanted to call the words back, to tell him she had changed her mind. But she hadn’t. Not really. It was a moment’s hesitation, a frisson of fear, not of him but of the unknown. When he reached the bed, she had to tip her head back to meet his gaze. And then he was leaning over her, his hands delving into the sleep-loosened braid of her hair. His lips settled over hers in a kiss that was shockingly tender. The gentleness of it was something she had not expected. It rocked her to her very soul. Oh, yes. She’d made a terrible mistake, but she wouldn’t have called a halt to it then. Not for anything in the world.
EIGHT
From the night she’d crawled naked into his bed, he’d been wanting desperately to kiss her—to taste the sweetness of her mouth. It was even better than he’d hoped. The softness of her lips beneath his, the silken texture of her skin… and something that was just her.
Lucian had no idea why Fiona stirred him so, but she did. He’d known women more beautiful, more flirtatious certainly, and clearly, he’d known women far more eager and enthusiastic for his company. Perhaps it was perverse on his part, but he rather liked her prickly nature. It was a refreshing change of pace for a woman not to fawn over him, natter on nervously and giggle every five minutes, or eye him like some sort of game to be hunted—a trophy to be taken.
Despite how she’d carried on in her pursuit of Kenworth, and even though she had been part of Lady Bruxton’s circle of harpies, there was something still sweet about her. Not naive, certainly, but sweet. That she was so willing to sacrifice herself for her family, specifically her sister, spoke volumes about her character. In fact, beyond her unfortunate association with Lady Bruxton, there was nothing about her that he did not like.
But it wasn’t her character that had held him in thrall in that moment. It was the lushness of her figure, the velvet softness of her skin… and the sweetness of her untutored response to his kiss. And she was responsive. Her lips moved beneath his even as she tilted her head back in an unconscious invitation to deepen the contact. It was an invitation he gladly accepted.
Licking gently at the seam of her lips, when she gasped in shock, he used the opportunity to his advantage. Sweeping his tongue into her mouth, he tasted her fully. Gentle, coaxing. Even with the growing heat, he never let his control slip—never taking more than he thought she was ready to give.
Only when the faintest moan of pleasure escaped her did he take things further. Pressing her back onto the pillows, he climbed onto the bed, stretching out beside her. It was then that he began to explore her body further. The elegant column of her throat, the gentle slope of her shoulder, the arcing line of her collarbone—there was nothing about her that he didn’t find lovely, that he didn’t find enticing.
When he’d kissed her until they were both senseless with it, he pulled his lips from hers and began to place soft, delicate kisses elsewhere. The delicate shell of her ear, her jaw, along her neck—he moved lower and lower until his lips brushed the lace edging at the neckline of her nightrail. And when he tugged the garment lower, revealing the swells of her breasts, she didn’t protest. Instead, she arched her back, lifting her breasts higher, offering them to him. He took greedily. Setting his mouth to that tender flesh, he found his own passions blazing out of control. The great rake, sought after by the most infamous courtesans and demireps, and he was turned half mad by an innocent young woman whom he was fairly certain had never been kissed until that moment.
“Fiona,” he said, whispering her name against her skin almost as an endearment, “You must tell me if I do anything that you do not like or frightens you. I want this to be enjoyable for you, to show you what passion can truly be like. I can only do that if you speak honestly and tell me how you feel.”
“How can I do that when I do not know myself?” She asked. “Even if I did know, how would I have the words?”
“Then do not use words,” Lucian said, pressing a kiss to the upper swell of her breast. She shivered beneath him. “You liked that, didn’t you?”
She blushed furiously but nodded. “Yes. Of course, I did.”
“That’s all you have to do, Fiona… if you feel the need to cry out, then cry out. If you feel the need to move or shift your body, do so. If you want me to touch you somewhere, then guide my hand—show me. This is not the time to be shy. Can you be bold, Fiona?”
* * *
How hadhe left her senseless with a kiss? He’d rendered her wanton and utterly shameless in less than a minute. Of course, that was better than the alternative, she supposed, of having a husband whose touch she could not abide.
His lips moved over her flesh, dragging across it with slow and deliberate pressure. All thoughts fled. When his lips moved lower still, tugging her nightrail lower and lower. When his mouth closed over the taut peak of her breast, she couldn’t halt the soft sound of pleasure that escaped her.
She shivered with the pleasure of it, with the anticipation of more to come. Every touch seemed to further awaken something inside her that had been previously dormant. Passion had always been a foreign concept to her, something that she could not understand and that she thought others foolish for falling victim to. And yet, now, she found herself falling under that spell. It no longer mattered that she had wanted to keep him at arm’s length, that she had wanted to preserve some formality, some distance between them. All that mattered in that moment was that she needed more. She needed him to be closer; she needed him to not stop the wonderful things he was doing, the wonderful things he was making her feel—because they quieted the worried voices in her mind. They hushed the anxiety— the panic for the moment and the fears for the future. For the first time since she’d realized she was in the wrong earl’s bed, she could stop thinking.
The feel of his mouth on her skin, the gentle lapping of his tongue over sensitive flesh, sent her spiraling into a haze of need. She wasn’t even aware of her clothing being stripped away. Her nightrail simply vanished. It was only when she felt the press of his skin on hers that she realized he’s somehow stripped them both naked, with her being completely unaware of it.
But it was a delicious feeling— hard muscle under heated skin, the light dusting of hair on his chest that brushed against her sensitive skin. There were so many sensations, so many wonderful feelings that simply flooded her. She was reeling from it all.
When his hand moved along her thigh with deliberate and obvious intent, a bit of the tension returned. But it wasn’t fear. It was anticipation. And then he was touching her intimately, where no one else ever had. Heat suffused her. Every caress, every touch, sent her hurtling toward something she could not name. Her body tensed and quivered, muscles taut, and then waves of pleasure. But this was no gentle current. It was a raging torrent that simply swept her away.
She was still lost in that glorious feeling when she felt him move, shift so that he was fully on top of her, cradled between her pried thighs. There was no hesitation, no fear. But she also had no expectations. From all that she had been told, the best parts of it were now past, and the remainder was simply something to be endured. Of course, everything she’d heard to the point had been wrong. Perhaps it wouldn’t be awful.
At first, it was as she had thought it would be. Uncomfortable, a bit awkward, and slightly embarrassing. But bearable, she thought. It was bearable. And surely, for the pleasure he had already given her, she could endure that. Wasn’t that what wives were supposed to do?
“Fiona, you are thinking entirely too much.” He whispered the words against her skin, and that whisper was followed by the slight scrape of his teeth over a particularly tender spot just beneath her ear. Then he placed one hand behind her knee, pulling it up so that it rested higher on his hip.
The previous pleasure suddenly roared to life again, blossoming inside her with renewed heat. Then he surged against her, inside her, and all the things she’d heard were proven false in that one second. It was perfection. Until that moment, ecstasy had been nothing but a word to her. She hadn’t understood what it truly meant, but now she did.
