Page 25 of A Gentleman Never Surrenders
“Stroke me, love, slow and gentle, and I’ll stroke you.” He slid his hand between her thighs and penetrated her with a finger, probing, then thrusting. Milly had to concentrate on touching him back, but it was so difficult when his finger inside her made her want to squirm, to arch her back, to claw at him for something else she wasn’t sure she could handle.
“Owen, I feel a little strange,” she breathed in between kisses. He smiled against her mouth, continuing to rub a spot inside her that made her jerk and made pleasure/pain zing straight to her breasts.
“Strange how?” he asked.
“Heavy and yet fluttery inside at the same time. Is that possible?”
He feathered a kiss across her lips before withdrawing his hand.
“Lie on your back, sweetheart.” He helped her to lie flat and she tensed when he nudged her knees apart.
“Trust me, Milly. Trust me.” He caged her beneath him, settling his hips between her thighs. She stiffened, terrified of what would happen next.
“Breathe with me.” He dropped his head to kiss her again and when nothing happened, she relaxed and surrendered to the pleasure of his kiss. She wasn’t sure how long their mouths moved in harmony, but suddenly between one breath and the next, he had positioned his shaft at her entrance and thrust into her. The unexpected pressure and the stinging pain left her breathless. He moved out a little and she bit her lip, shutting her eyes.
Breathe through the pain. She dug her nails into Owen’s shoulders.
“Most of the pain is over,” he murmured, true apology in his eyes. “Just breathe and relax. After that there will be only pleasure.” He kissed her chin, then moved his lips down to her collarbone, then to her left breast. He nuzzled the peak and then sucked the nipple into his mouth. Milly moaned at the pleasurable delight of his mouth nibbling on so sensitive a part of her.
One of his hands palmed her knee, moving up and down her outer thigh in soothing strokes. When he rocked forward again, the pain was more of a ghost than real, and a few seconds later she realized there was only a wild sense of need, that building pressure and ache that Owen’s body was satisfying. Each time he pumped into her, their pelvises touched and they were as close and connected as two beings could be.
After that, she didn’t need words, nor did he. He captured her wrists on either side of her head, pinning them into the bedding. It left her helpless but excited as he thrust into her, harder, until she was on the edge, the force making them both gasp and share soft cries. Milly realized she liked the roughness, the way he claimed her, consumed her. Their eyes were locked; nothing else outside them existed. Nothing but their shared breaths, the point of connection between them and the ecstasy of his body atop hers. Everything in her splintered in bursts of endless pleasure. A cry left her lips and it merged with Owen’s hoarse shout of her name. Milly. She smiled, gasped for breath, and went utterly limp. Owen’s weight settled more firmly on top of her.
“Are you all right?” he asked between his own ragged breaths, his hands still gripping her wrists, keeping her trapped, but she didn’t mind.
“Y-yes.” She kept smiling and he grinned down at her.
“Good. I was a little overeager and was afraid I’d been too rough.” He withdrew from her body, released her hands, and rolled off her. The instant loss of his body and heat, their connection, impacted her more than she wanted it to.
“Is this the part where men usually leave their wives alone?” she asked, feeling very small and insignificant. She glanced down and played with a loose lock of her hair.
Owen tipped her chin up and brushed the backs of his knuckles over her cheek, a tender smile flirting with his lips, as though he sensed her insecurity.
“Usually, but not me. Why do you think I brought you to my bed? I’m not going anywhere.” He traced her lips with a fingertip, then kissed her thoroughly. That wonderful warmth spread through her all over again from just his kiss.
“Get some sleep. Tomorrow we have much to do.” He tucked her body against his and she let him, loving the way he held her so close. He was the one comforting, familiar thing in the strange new world that was to be her home. She could let him hold her for one night. Surely it wouldn’t risk her heart, not one night…
* * *
Owen held on to Milly, counting her dark eyelashes and humming inside with pleasure as she surrendered to sleep in his arms and his bed. To woo a woman was easy, but to woo one’s own wife? That was another feat entirely. She was too skittish, ready to bolt at the first hint of being hurt. That was the last thing on earth he wished to do to her.
She’d gotten hurt tonight. Losing her virginity hadn’t been painless, but she’d gotten through it, the poor girl. Now she was on the other side, a woman who’d tasted pleasure in a man’s arms.
I just have to convince her to trust me. He’d known from the start she saw him as a ruthless fortune hunter bent only on taking a woman’s money. But that wasn’t who he was, not deep down, and he needed her to know the real him because if she did…she might come to love him, and that mattered. Life had forced him to marry for money but that’s not what he had truly ever wanted for himself. He didn’t want a loveless marriage like his parents had.
She burrowed closer, clinging to him, pressing her cheek against his shoulder. The feel of her lying skin to skin with him was oddly harmonious, like a chord on a pianoforte. Different, yet when blended together, it felt right.
“I want to keep you, Milly,” he whispered softly enough that she didn’t stir. “And what a challenge that will be, eh?” He knew enough of her now to realize tonight was only a small victory in the battle to win her. Milly was infinitely complex. Unbelievable lovemaking would not be enough to tame her or ease her fears of rejection or mockery. To woo her, he would need to be careful, considerate, kind, and yet never allow her to gain an inch in the battle that lay between them. If this was to be a happy marriage, he would have to get his wife to fall in love with him. A month ago, he would have laughed at the impossible task and walked away, but he couldn’t do that. Not after the promise he made to her father and the promise he made to himself.
There will be happiness in this marriage.
He tugged the blankets up around them and let sleep claim him. But the dreams were never far behind. The dreams of darker days and hellish nights during the war. Such things were always running just beneath the surface of his mind and in the corners of his heart.
He’d only just closed his eyes when old memories surged up around him. Choking him.
The blazing sun scorched his skin, the buzz of flies around the bodies, carrion birds hopping among the corpses, picking at decaying flesh. His own hands stained with blood, too slick to maintain the hold of his rifle. He clawed his way through the African underbrush, unable to see his troops. There was only blood and death…and silence. That was the worst part after a battle. When the crack of guns and boom of cannons had died and the fog of war had been blown away by the breeze…silence was all that was left. Owen tried to fight off the rising panic. His men had left him behind to die. He would die. A few more hours with no water, no food, no shelter from a merciless sun.
“God forgive me for my sins,” he muttered, his voice hoarse.
