Page 28 of The Baron's Return
He extended his hand to her. When she placed her smaller one in his, he pulled her to stand.
“If you want to stop at any time—”
She placed a finger on his mouth. “I won’t want to stop. I’ve been dreaming of this, dreaming of you, for so long.”
He crushed her against him, taking a moment to enjoy the way her soft curves molded against the hard planes of his chest. Then, as if by silent accord, their mouths met in a kiss that spoke of long-denied passions.
He’d been with many women, but none could ever compare to the one in his arms. He pushed aside the significance of that realization and gave himself up to sensation.
Her fingers dug into his hair as though she were afraid he would disappear. When he cupped her backside and lifted her against his hard length, she made a soft, heated sound and wrapped her legs around his waist. He’d never been gladder for that long slit that had tormented him throughout their dinner.
He carried her to the bed but turned so he was sitting with her in his lap. Her movements against him quickened, and he realized she was going to reach her peak.
He tore his mouth from hers and buried his face in her neck so she wouldn’t see how he’d gritted his teeth with the effort to keep himself from spilling in his trousers.
Finally she let out a low moan and arched her back as her entire body stiffened. Then she softened against him and he pulled her away from his aching hardness.
He reached into her hair and released the pins, sending them scattering to the floor so he could bury his fingers in the mass of blond hair. He couldn’t touch her hair the one time they’d been together since they’d both needed to return to the ball from which they’d stolen away. But he’d dreamed of how it would feel flowing over his body.
Finally, when her breathing had slowed, she pulled back to look at him. Her bottom lip was caught between her teeth, red coloring her cheeks.
He cupped her face and drew his thumb along her lower lip, freeing it. “There’s to be no embarrassment here, when we’re alone together like this.”
When she nodded, he loosened his grip on her body. “Good. Now stand up and step out of that damned nightdress.”
She gave a soft laugh. “I thought you wanted to rip it from my body?”
“I’ve changed my mind. I hope to see you in this—and out of it—often.”
He couldn’t resist weighing one of her heavy breasts in his hand and toying with the nipple.
She gasped at his boldness but then scurried off his lap. He was about to protest when she turned away from him, but then his mouth dropped open when he saw that the entire back, from her shoulders to just above the swell of her hips, was made from a sheer material that was transparent. He’d been so distracted by the slit in her skirt that displayed her leg that he hadn’t even looked at her back when he’d helped her into her seat earlier.
“I’m infinitely glad I decided not to destroy this outfit.”
She chuckled. “Amelia took me to her modiste and gave her free license to create whatever licentious designs she could imagine. I wasn’t brave enough to wear one of the others.”
He’d have to make a point to have John thank his wife. But for now he watched as Abigail undid a fastening at the top of the garment before allowing it to puddle at her feet.
His eyes scanned over her figure, from her long blond hair down to her slip of a waist, the curve of her hips, and her long legs.
When she stepped out of the pile of fabric and turned to face him again, her arms were crossed over her breasts. He allowed his eyes to sweep over her body, then reached forward to draw her arms down to her side.
Her breasts were larger now, the tips darker, and he wondered if the change had been caused by carrying their child. He tugged her toward him and she came willingly, stopping between his outstretched legs. He was still sitting on the edge of the bed, which put him at the perfect height to draw a breast into his mouth.
She gasped while he went about savoring his favorite dessert.
Chapter 16
It was almost impossible to believe she wasn’t dreaming. That she hadn’t fallen asleep while waiting for Cranston to join her for dinner. But her imagination wasn’t that good, and she could never have conjured all these glorious sensations in her mind.
The night she’d conceived Gemma, she’d been young and innocent. Cranston had given her pleasure, yes, but there had also been pain. He’d promised her that the next time they were together there would be only pleasure. But that day had never come.
Instead, she’d married an old man who thought only of himself during their brief couplings. Which had come as a relief because it meant they were of short duration. He’d spend himself inside her and then leave through the connecting door to his own bedchamber. Often without saying a word to her.
Those visits had continued throughout her pregnancy, but once she’d given birth, he’d sent her away. No one had touched her since. That had suited her well because she’d only wanted this man.
The wait had been well worth it.
