Page 75 of One Wicked Secret
Her mouth went dry.
His member was long and thick and hung between solid thighs.
Her core muscles clenched when he climbed into the huge bath and sank down until the water lapped his chest. His low, throaty sigh tightened her nipples. Yet she wanted to hear him pant and groan as he buried himself inside her.
But she faced a dilemma.
“Are you sure knowing the truth doesn’t matter to you?”
He pushed his wet hand through his ebony locks. “Will we ever truly know what happened that day? The one personwho can shed light on it is dead. All that matters is that you do what makes you happy.”
She remained rooted to the spot on the rug, fully dressed and feeling foolish. “I want to place my faith in the future, not dwell on the past.”
His eyes were dark and intense as they journeyed over her. “Then take off your clothes and join me in the bath.”
Strange how mere words could set her body aflame.
She kicked off her satin slippers—a simple act of surrender.
“Leave your stockings until last.” He sat up, draping his arms over the sides of the bath, his posture relaxed and languid, the water running over the hard muscles in his chest. “Don’t be shy. I had my fingers inside you last night, my tongue stroking your womanhood.”
And it had been glorious!
Despite trembling hands, she unfastened her dress with practised ease, striving to appear sensual, not as skittish as a lone doe in the woods.
“Slowly, love,” he said, his voice hushed yet rough as she pushed her dress over her hips and stepped out of the garment. His gaze swept over every curve, desire hot in his eyes. “Promise me we’ll make this a nightly ritual.”
“As your wife, I must grant you your heart’s desire.”
“I have many desires where you’re concerned.”
He swallowed hard when she removed her petticoat. A moan escaped him as she loosened the laces on her corset and peeled the garment away, baring the thin chemise beneath. When that slipped from her shoulders and floated to the floor, he stared as if entranced.
“You’re more desirable than I ever imagined.”
Her breasts rose with her breath, full and bare, the rapid rise and fall holding his primal gaze.
“You’ve seen me naked before,” she said, then hated herself for referring to that unspeakable moment.
“I was the concerned friend that night, afraid for your safety. But now… now I’m your husband, and every part of me aches for you. I’m so hard, one stroke will be my undoing.”
The raw need in his voice quietened her doubts. She slowly pulled the pins from her hair, letting the locks tumble free. “This is the first time you’ve seen yourwifenaked.” Not entirely naked. She still wore a thin bandage.
“It won’t be the last.” He beckoned her closer. “Prop your foot on the side of the bath when you slip off your stockings.”
His commands were as arousing as the desperation in his tone. She just prayed these feelings didn’t fade with time but developed into something more profound.
“Sweet heaven,” he growled as she balanced her foot on the edge of the tub and rolled down her stocking. “You’re so wet, you’re glistening.”
“I pray the water is still warm and doesn’t cool my heated blood.” She considered the size of him and how he filled the space. “You’ll need to guide me … tell me how this will work.”
“Climb in and sit astride me. There’s room.”
He held her hand as she stepped into the bath, guiding her gently until she settled astride him, water covering her thighs and his hot gaze burning into her soul.
“Let me wash you.” He took the bar soap from the porcelain dish on the nearby stool and worked it between his large hands.
She sat mesmerised by the dimple in his chin and the lock of damp hair hanging over his brow … until the heat of his touch stole her attention. His fingers, slick with soap, slid over her shoulders, each stroke drawing him closer to her breasts.
