Page 85 of The Formation of Us
“Do you have a brush in your bag?”
She nodded.
He stepped away to retrieve her bag from beside the chamber door. When he set it down, she reached inside the small, worn valise and found the brush Adam had stolen.
“Sit,” he said, taking the brush from her. “I’d like to do this.”
She sat with her back to him, watching his reflection in the mirror. He pulled the brush through her curls, over and again, placing the bristles at the peak of her forehead and lightly dragging them back across her skull and down the length of her hair, which ended above her waist.
A sigh of pleasure slipped from her mouth and she closed her eyes.
“You like this?”
“Mmm . . . yes. My mother used to brush my hair for me.” And she’d craved those precious minutes of affection. “Mama owned a beautiful brush with stiff bristles and a porcelain back painted with roses. It was a gift to her, and my mother treasured it.” A sharp sense of loss filled Faith. She opened her eyes, needing to see Duke, needing to know she wasn’t alone anymore. “I wanted to keep the brush forever, but I left it behind when we moved.”
“Have you sent a letter to your old address?” he asked, drawing the bristles across her scalp in a soothing motion. “You could ask the new residents to look for the brush and forward it to you.”
She shook her head, disrupting his brush stroke. “No . . . I . . . the landlord probably tossed it out or gave it away.” She lowered her lashes, realizing she’d been foolish to mention her mother and open a conversation about her past, especially on her wedding night.
“I’m sorry you lost something so treasured. Now I understand why Adam wanted to give you a brush.”
She nodded, but dared not say another word about the brush or her mother lest she slip and mention the brothel she still owned. “Would you unlace my corset?”
He laid the brush on the dressing table, then untied the drawing ribbon on her corset and unlaced it for her.
As she pulled the stifling garment off her body and laid it on the bench beside her, Duke’s strong, warm hands slipped over her shoulders. Their eyes met in the mirror, but he gently tilted her head back until she was looking up at him.
He leaned down to kiss her.
Their mouths met upside down in an awkward but sensual kiss. He slowly moved his hands down over her collar bone, and slipped them beneath her chemise, easing his fingers over her breasts. She gasped against his mouth.
His tongue and teeth made small swipes and nibbles across her lips, making her crave a deeper kiss. She arched her back to lift her aching breasts into his warm palms. He captured her hard nipples between his thumb and finger, shaping and tugging them to aching peaks.
“I’ve wanted to do this from the minute I first saw you.”
But he hadn’t done it. He’d been a gentleman, even during their most passionate kisses.
His warm lips caressed her neck, her shoulder, and then he was kneeling on the floor behind her, turning her to face him. Her nose brushed his thick, shiny hair as he freed the buttons at the waist of her skirt, and she pressed her face into the silky soft strands to inhale the scent of him, soap and cologne and man.
He pulled her into his arms, kissing her deeply as he brought them both to their feet. His hands roamed her back, dipped inside her skirt to caress her bottom through layers of fabric, then moved back to her breasts. A moan of pleasure escaped her, and she slipped her fingers into his hair, deepening the kiss. His low, shuddering groan excited her, and a wild desperation edged their kiss.
Suddenly, he broke away. “I need to get out of this suit.”
“I’ll help you,” she whispered, wanting to please him, to be his wonderful willing wife, feeling as desperate and inflamed as he looked. She pushed the suit coat over his wide shoulders and down his muscled arms. He tugged his hands out of the sleeves, but his wince reminded her of his tender shoulder. She unbuttoned his shirt while he removed his tie. Then he wrested the gold links off his cuffs and shrugged out of his shirt, exposing his broad, bare chest.
When he stepped back to remove his trousers, her skirt that he’d unbuttoned fell to her ankles in a cloud of puffy silk, leaving her standing in her white chemise, drawers, and petticoats. His hands stilled at the waist of his trousers, a look of wonder and amazement filling his eyes. “You are so beautiful . . .”
His sincerity touched her. Maybe her experience with lovemaking was limited, but her knowledge of the human body was vast. If she watched and listened, her husband would show her how to please him.
An unexpected sense of daring filled her, and she untied the waist ribbon on her petticoat. Slowly, she pushed it down her legs to lie in the heap of silk at her ankles.
His dark gaze melted down her body like warm wax, molding her breasts, skimming her waist, caressing her hips, lingering on her lacy drawers and stocking-clad legs. That pleased him. She smiled and opened her arms to her husband.
He embraced her and lifted her out of the mound of fabric. Breast to chest, she felt his heart hammering, and her own answering. Somehow, someway, she would make this strong, handsome, trembling man in her arms want her as his friend and lover for life.
o0o
Duke pressed his face to his wife’s temple, physically shaken by his desire for her. “I’ve wanted you in my arms like this since the first time I saw you. I want to give you romance and fireworks.”
