Page 49 of Foolish Bride
Michael pulled her into his arms and kissed her cheek. Then he licked her earlobe, sending a bolt through her. Trailing light kisses along her jaw to her chin, he traced alluring paths with his fingers, up and down her arms and back.
“Michael.” His name came out on a sigh. Longing to express her feelings, the words wouldn’t come. Desire swamped her.
His mouth covered hers, gently at first, then on a moan his tongue touched hers. The rhythm he set intoxicated her into following his lead.
Nothing was as wonderful as wrapping her arms around Michael’s shoulders and playing with the curls at his neck. Nor was any felicity as grand as his kisses or what they did to her.
Grabbing her bottom, he pulled her into him.
“Oh, Michael, I want…”
“Yes, my love, what do you want?” He was hard against her.
Since the termination of their engagement, she had formed an idea about what his malady actually was. Perhaps she had been wrong, but if not, he seemed much better. Curiosity and desire well overrode her shyness, making her bold. She rubbed him through his breeches.
Growing harder, he pressed against her hand, his breeches near bursting. He moaned. “Elinor, please.”
Afraid of hurting him, she yanked her hand away. “But, I thought…”
Shadows hid his face, but his voice filled with joy. “Yes, well, it seems the doctors were wrong. I appear to be healing.”
“I do not know what to say.” Gasping, she caught her breath.
He scooped her up and placed her lightly on one of the tables. “Do not say anything, my love.” Standing between her legs, he caressed the edge of her bodice. “Shall I stop?”
Everywhere he touched burned for more and left her moaning in answer.
Tugging the fabric, he exposed her nipple, which he covered with his mouth.
Gripping his head, she pressed him tighter to her and a squeak of surprise and delight escaped her lips. Something tightened in her stomach, and sensations flurried between her legs. Michael caressed her calf, but she was distracted by the delights of his mouth.
He paid the same attention to her other breast, and his fingers crept higher on her leg.
Only the rhythm of their tongues touching and lips melding mattered. The good-girl voice in her head tried to warn her, but she shushed the pesky droning.
He traced up her inner thigh, and touched her most intimate spot.
Wanting to call for more, all she managed was an unintelligible cry as she wrapped her legs around him. “Oh. What—”
“Shhh. It’s all right, Elinor. Trust me. You are so wet. I would make you mine, but it’s too soon.”
As he slipped a finger inside her, she clutched him tighter. Wanting something she couldn’t describe, she pressed into his hand.
Rubbing her bud, he thrust quicker until the straining ruptured into pure delight. With a demanding kiss, he muffled her cries.
Sensations rolled over and through her and she couldn’t speak. Rapture swelled and broke, and she clutched him tighter with each wave.
“My God, Elinor. I cannot wait until you are mine.” He kissed her forehead.
Finally, everything settled. “You mean there is more?”
“Yes, sweet, so much more.” On the sharp angles of his features, joy turned to agony and he gripped his head. Staggering, he clutched the table.
Jumping off the table, Elinor’s heart raced. She wrapped her arm around his back. “What’s wrong, Michael? What is it?”
“I am okay.” His knees buckled, forcing him to kneel.
“You are in pain. What can I do?” Exposed and awkward, she righted her gown.
