Chapter 15

A s he set the ham on the table, Octavia moved to sit down, but Atticus stopped her. Pulling her chair out from under the table, he turned it sideways and gestured for her to sit. A puzzled frown furrowed her brow as she studied him for a long moment. Atticus nodded toward the chair.

"Sit down, Octavia." Despite the flash of annoyed confusion in his soft command, her eyes widened as he knelt in front of her. "Now, extend your foot."

"What?" Octavia stared down at him in confusion.

With a smile, Atticus leaned forward and reached under her skirt to pull her foot out from underneath her skirts. His fingers quickly undid the laces of her shoe, then pulled it off her foot and set it aside. One hand cradling the heel of her foot, his fingers explored the shape of her firm calf with slow, deliberate strokes.

His gaze locked with hers, Atticus's hand slid underneath the skirt of her gown and up over a stocking-clad leg. The instant his fingers touched the back of her knee, she jumped, and he smiled with satisfaction.

"Are you all right?" he murmured with a low laugh.

"Ye…yes."

Octavia's reply was almost inaudible, but when he resumed his leisurely path upward, she inhaled a breathy gasp of surprise. Atticus arched an eyebrow, then grinned as his hand reached her upper thigh and another gasp escaped her. Fingers curled around the edges of her seat, Octavia sat immobile as his fingers played with the ends of the ribbon that held her stocking in place for several seconds.

Lips slightly parted, her breathing was ragged and anticipation sparkled in her gray eyes. In a lazy gesture, he drew a small circle on her skin at the top of her thigh. A small shudder rippled through her and vibrated against his fingertips. Pleased with her reaction, he gave the ribbon a small tug and untied the small bow it had been knotted closed with. Octavia made an incoherent sound the moment Atticus pulled the silk ribbon out from under her skirt.

The ribbon drifted down onto the tabletop before he slid his hands back under her skirt to slowly roll her stocking down to a shapely ankle, then off her foot. Atticus took his time removing the hose from her leg, his fingers lightly caressing her silky smooth skin. With one stocking removed, he turned his attention to the other. When he finished removing her hosiery, he pushed her skirts up over her knees. Another tremor rippled through Octavia, and Atticus's hands stilled against her hips. Leaning forward, he nibbled at her ear.

"Are you cold, sweetheart?"

"No," she whispered with a shake of her head.

"Good, because I don't want you to be cold."

Atticus's mouth brushed over hers in a light kiss before he reached behind her waist to undo the tapes holding her underskirt and bloomers in place. In seconds, he'd pulled both garments down past her hips and thighs until she was bare beneath the skirts of her gown.

"There now, doesn't that feel better?" he murmured, his mouth twitching at her shocked expression.

"I…it's hedonistic…to have nothing…nothing on underneath my gown." The breathless sound of her voice made Atticus bow his head to kiss the inside of one knee, before he pulled her skirt down over her legs.

"But it gives me the ability to pleasure you so much more easily." He leaned forward and kissed her gently. "In fact, I've already decided what I want for dessert."

"Let me guess, gingerbread cookies?" Octavia smiled at him.

"No, I want something much more delicious, but you'll have to wait and see." Atticus rose to his feet. The sight of her brow furrowed with frustration and puzzlement made him grin. Her lovely mouth twisted with annoyance, she uttered a noise of irritation.

"You are a terrible tease," Octavia huffed.

"Am I?"

"Yes, and I find it incredibly vexing." The fractious note in her voice made Atticus's grin widen.

"Well, we can't have that, can we?"

Without any warning, Atticus lifted her out of her seat, then sank down into his chair to hold Octavia in his lap. The moment her plump bottom pressed into his thigh, his body reacted. In seconds, his cock grew hard as iron. She shifted her bottom as if to make herself more comfortable, but grew still a split-second later as a soft gasp escaped her.

Eyes wide with surprise, it was obvious she was keenly aware the hard pressure against her thigh was his cock. Pink color flooded her cheeks before her startled expression faded, and awareness mixed with a burgeoning desire flickered in her gaze. As her mouth softened, her eyes took on a sultry slant, and Atticus's body hardened even more.

Octavia slid an arm around his neck, then with her palm cupping his cheek, she bent her head to kiss him. In one blinding second, every muscle in his body was taut with desire, and his cock ached to be buried inside her. Hot and enticing, her mouth against his aroused a carnal lust to have her beneath him. It was difficult to control the savage urges flooding his body, but he forced himself to focus on pleasing her.

Fingers digging into the soft wool of her skirt, he tugged the fabric up over the top of her thighs. His rough action made Octavia inhale a sharp breath of air. The sound sent his heart crashing into his chest before it pounded a fierce rhythm through his blood. Despite his body's demand for immediate satisfaction, his fingers traced a line over her silky skin from her knee to the upper part of her thigh. A hard shudder vibrated off her and into his body at the light caress. Leaning into her, he kissed the side of her neck.

"Do you like me touching you like this, Aphrodite?"

"I…it's…yes, very much," she said, her voice husky and breathless.

"Good," he murmured against her throat. "You're not cold are you?"

"No," she whispered. "I feel quite warm."

Atticus lifted his head to meet her gaze, noting the way the pulse in her neck fluttered rapidly as she shook her head. Keeping his touch light, his fingers caressed the plump flesh at the apex of her thighs, and a soft sound of pleasure echoed out of her, while her mouth formed a small, round circle of surprise mixed with anticipation. With a smile, he slowly parted her slick folds, and her gaze locked with his before she jerked with surprise as he slid one finger into her and stroked her.

"Oh dear God," she choked out as her eyes fluttered close. His heart slammed into his chest at how her body was already primed for him.

"You're so hot and wet, sweetheart," he murmured as he found the nub of flesh at the edge of her core and rubbed over it.

She jumped again, a small moan escaping her. Atticus slid a second finger into her tight channel, and then another, his caress gentle as he pressed against her core to stretch her slightly. Another moan passed her lips the moment he circled the plump bud of her sex with his thumb. Smiling, he leaned forward and nibbled at the base of her throat and kissed his way down to the tops of her breast. Above his head, she sighed his name with an achy hunger that squeezed at his heart.

God, the way she responded to him was intoxicating. Did she have any idea what a passionate creature she was? Even though his body cried out for her, he forced himself to focus solely on her pleasure. Her head fell backward, her hips moving against his hand in a silent demand for more.

Hot buttery cream coated his fingers as he increased the pace of his strokes, while he caressed and applied pressure to the sensitive spot deep inside her. Ecstasy crossed her face, signaling she was on the cusp of her climax. It was a look he wanted to see over and over again. A second later, she stiffened in his arms, and his heart raced as her core flexed, then contracted around his fingers in one spasm after another. Atticus's mouth went dry at the thought of his cock experiencing every contraction of her hot core.

He ached to take her then and there, but he knew she wasn't ready. She needed to be aroused to the point of irrational hunger if he were to ensure she suffered as little pain as possible. Slowly, her shudders ebbed, as her body sank into his, and her head came to rest on his shoulder. God, how he loved her. If she stayed like this in his arms forever, he would die a happy man.

Eyes closed, her harsh breaths slowly eased. Atticus withdrew his hand from under her skirt, and pulled it downward so it fluttered around her bare ankles, before he reached for the napkin at his place setting. After a long moment, her eyes fluttered open to stare up at him, while a quiet sigh of what he was certain was contentment slipped past her lips. Atticus smiled down at her, then lowered his head to press a tender kiss to her mouth.

"I take it you enjoyed that," he murmured with a soft chuckle.

"Oh yes, very much." Another soft sigh blew past her sweetly curved mouth. In an unexpected movement, she reached up to brush a lock of his hair away from his forehead.

"I never dreamt making love could be so blissful."

"Making love?" Atticus chuckled at her puzzled frown. "That was just an appetizer, sweetheart. I intend to make you too limp to move by the end of tonight."

Eyes widening in surprise, they softened to a slumberous, sensual gaze. He doubted she realized how seductive it made her look, but it was enough to arouse and heighten his need for her. Atticus swallowed hard, willing himself to suppress his desire. Catching her hand in his, he carried it to his mouth to caress her fingertips. The slight tremor pulsating against his lips at his tender gesture was a delightful sensation as he met her gaze.

Gray eyes dark with emotion, she studied him with an odd expression on her lovely face. What he saw flickering in her gaze sent his heart slamming into his chest. Was it possible she cared for him? A vise constricted painfully around his chest at the thought, while his mind told him not to hope for such a possibility.

Atticus cupped her face with his hands, then kissed her. It was a sweet, tender kiss, devoid of anything except the love he had to offer her. When he raised his head, Octavia's eyes fluttered open, and she stared at him. Hope crashed through him once more, but he suppressed it for fear he was wrong.

"Now that I've eased your frustration, I'd like to enjoy what I'm certain is going to be the first of several delightful meals tonight."

Octavia's cheeks flushed with pink at his teasing, and Atticus laughed, then set her on her feet. In less than a minute, they were filling their plates with the food Octavia had prepared for their meal. His gaze surveyed the dishes on the table.

"For supposedly having so little in your larder, you managed to create a robust menu for our holiday dinner."

"It was somewhat of a challenge to prepare a holiday meal that resembled the ones we have at Stapleton Hall, but I confess I'm pleased with how it all turned out."

Atticus swallowed a bite of the parsnips and carrots puree on his plate, and looked at her in surprise as he savored the flavor. She smiled at his obvious pleasure.

"I take it parsnips and carrots puree is another of your favorite dishes."

"Not usually, but I think this is incredibly tasty, as are these mushroom patties. You're an excellent cook."

"Thank you," she said, her cheeks growing pink with delight at his compliment. "I enjoy being in the kitchen."

"Where did you learn to cook?" Atticus asked before he took a bite of minced cabbage.

"My aunt taught me. She and my mother learned…"

"When they were employed in your father's home?" he quietly finished her sentence for her. The startled look on her face vanished in a split second to become one of defiance.

"Yes." The sharp, abrupt reply made him arch an eyebrow at her.

"I'm not judging your mother's background, Octavia. The merit of a person is not how humble or high their circumstances are. It's their actions and moral fiber that defines the goodness in someone. I think your mother is a true lady, and it's obvious she makes your father happy."

"She's the most generous and kindest person I know," Octavia replied. Her stiff posture relaxed a fraction before her mouth tightened. "In fact, she's so generous, she never defends herself when some member of the Set is deliberately offensive in their treatment of her."

"Why do I think you're more like your father than your mother?" Atticus eyed her with a smile, and she stared at him in surprise for a moment, then laughed.

"I suppose I am. Mama is constantly despairing over my inappropriate language."

"Inappropriate perhaps, but I think it illustrates you're a woman who knows her own mind, and doesn't have a problem speaking up for herself. An attribute I admire."

"What? My language or my ability to standup for what I believe in?" she said with a solemn expression, but he saw the irreverent twinkle in her beautiful gray eyes.

"Both." He chuckled, and she laughed, then grew silent, a contemplative look on her lovely features.

"I imagine it would be unsuitable for the Duchess of Ashurst to have such a scandalous vocabulary."

The words had barely passed her lips before her cheeks were stained with a dark rose color. Her gaze dropped to her plate, and Atticus saw her hand tremble as she reached for her glass to take a sip of wine. His chest tightened with a mixture of emotions, and he barely managed to restrain himself from capturing her hand in his.

"Since I'm well-acquainted with the Duke of Ashurst, I can safely say he would never chastise his wife for speaking her mind or expressing herself with language that might shock others."

"Never?" she raised her eyebrows as she questioned him, a guarded look in her gaze.

"The only time I would ever chastise my duchess would be if she did something that put her in harm's way."

"I see, and does that include not chastising her when she's working in the kitchen?"

"I'll not make that mistake again." He winced as he looked at the bandage on her wrist. Her mouth twitched as she studied him with amusement.

"I am not blameless given I didn't do as you commanded."

"And is that something the duke should expect when he takes a duchess? Disobedience?" he teased with raised eyebrows.

"Does that mean you believe a wife should be submissive? That her husband is lord and master over all she does?" Her demeanor changed in a fraction of a second, her body stiffening.

"No," he said with a firm shake of his head. "I don't want a submissive wife. I want my duchess to be comfortable expressing her thoughts without fear of being constantly overruled. I want a wife who's independent and who'll challenge me when she feels strongly about something that affects either of us."

"An unusual stance for a man to take."

"Perhaps, but I wish for my duchess to be happy. My only demand, rule if you wish to call it that, is for her to think before leaping into a situation where she might come to harm." Atticus reached out to grasp Octavia's hand, then raised it to his lips. "Otherwise, the constant fear for her safety will commit me to an early grave."

In a slow, almost reluctant movement, Octavia pulled her hand out of his and stared down at her plate. Her fork toying with a piece of ham, she frowned as if contemplating his words. A second later, she eyed him with curiosity.

"How long were you in America?"

"Almost three years."

"That's a terribly long time being away from your home and family."

"It was necessary." He shrugged, remembering why he'd crossed the Atlantic. "My father was a good man, but terrible when it came to financial investments. When he died, the family coffers were almost non-existent."

The moment he saw Octavia go rigid, he eyed her steadily and shook his head.

"I was not lying when I told you I have no need of your dowry, Octavia. My lengthy stay in America was to oversee two investments I made after my father died. I spent my time learning how to run a shipping firm and the ranch."

"A shipping firm and a ranch?" Eyes wide with surprise, she studied him in amazement.

"Yes, I knew nothing about either business, and in order to make them a success, I had to learn how each business operates."

"Which do you like the best?" she asked, her gaze filled with curiosity.

"The ranch. Wyoming is unbelievably beautiful. I have just under six thousand acres and on average, three thousand head of cattle."

" Three thousand ." Octavia stared at him in amazement. Atticus smiled.

"I bought Peaceful Sky ranch from an old farmer. He and his wife had no children, and he didn't like the other man who had made an offer. I think the ranch was the child Clarence and his wife never had, and he liked my appreciation for the land."

"What's it like?"

"Wild, untamed, and beautiful. Everything is immense, from the mountains to the forests. The house sits on top of a hill, and from the front porch, my land reaches as far as my eyes can see."

"It sounds magnificent."

"It is. I plan on returning in the late spring for the cattle drive."

"Do you mean you will ride along with the cowboys?" Octavia's eyes widened a small bit as if intrigued yet intimidated by the thought.

"Yes, I actually learned how to be one too, albeit a somewhat incompetent one. Rarely did a day pass when they weren't all joking and laughing about my struggles to learn something new."

Atticus laughed as he remembered one of the younger cowhands, John, chortling with laughter as he'd struggled to put up fencing around his property.

"Learning how to install barbed wire fencing was one that resulted in several painful lessons. The small calf I had to untangle when it became caught up in the wire was even more so."

"Oh, then that…" When her voice trailed off, Atticus cocked his head to one side as he met her gaze with a small smile.

"Yes, that's where I learned how to rescue maidens from brambles."

"I never said thank you for your kindness that night in the garden," she said softly.

"Given the conversation you overheard, I don't blame you," he said with sincerity. "Although if we'd met at the Lyndham affair, such a conversation would never have taken place, and you wouldn't have fallen into those thorny bushes."

"I don't understand," she said with puzzlement. Atticus dragged in a breath.

"From the first moment I found you entangled in those rose bushes, I was captivated by you. Any other woman would have been hysterical, but not you, Octavia. Your fire and strength were astounding. You were Aphrodite personified. You still are. And if we'd met at the Lyndham affair, I would not have allowed you to walk away from me, whether you had been an heiress or not."

Eyes widening with surprise, bright pink color flooded her cheeks. She was adorable, and desire heated his blood as he met her gaze. Even if tonight was the only time he'd ever held her in his arms again, he planned on making every second count. Cheeks still flooded with color, she quickly sprang to her feet.

"It looks like you're finished eating, let me bring out the dessert."

Octavia started to sprint past him, but Atticus extended his hand to catch her wrist, bringing her to a halt. Rising to his feet, he studied her upturned face for a moment. The merest hint of trepidation flitted across her features.

Arms wrapping around her waist, Atticus pulled her into his chest, then kissed her gently. As he raised his head, his heartbeat accelerated at the way her features had softened with delight. It made him want to see her expression after he'd pleasured her.

"I already have my dessert here."

With a gentle tug, he guided her to the opposite end of the table. Hands pressing into her waist, he lifted her up and sat her on the tabletop.

"What are you up to, Ashurst?"

"Ashurst? That's rather formal, given the dessert I'm about to enjoy," Atticus said with a smile as he leaned forward and kissed her deeply.

As his tongue slipped past her lips, he savored the sweet taste of the plum pudding they'd had for dinner. She tasted delicious, and he knew the tangy taste of her sex would only enhance the sweetness. Her tongue tangled with his in several strokes of feminine demand, and his body tensed as he contemplated the idea of taking her now. No, she deserved better than that from him. She deserved to be wooed and seduced before he claimed her as his completely.

Atticus ignored the clamoring hunger of his cock, and forced himself to consider only her pleasure. There would be plenty of time to satisfy his own needs in the hours ahead. Instead, his hands gathered up her skirts and pushed the gown up to her stomach to expose her lush thighs.

At the sight of her, he grew still as he absorbed the sheer magnificence of her full hips, the gentle swell of her belly, and the treasure at the apex of her long legs. God almighty, but she was beautiful. He swallowed the knot in his throat that was blocking his ability to breathe, while his body harden and ached almost maddeningly to possess her. Ignoring the physical ache pounding against him, Atticus met her shy gaze and smiled.

"Lie back, Octavia."

" Lie back ? Why on earth do you want me to do that?"

"Because I'm about to enjoy my dessert."

"But I haven't even brought it out yet. And I think it most inappropriate for you to make me lie down on the dining room table in this manner, your grace." Her words echoed with a mixture of confusion, trepidation, embarrassment, and irritation.

"But you'll lie down, nonetheless."

Atticus gave her a gentle push backward, while one knee pushed her legs apart far enough for him to stand between them. Grabbing a chair, he pulled it toward him, then leaned over her. Hands pressing into the table on either side of her head, Atticus kissed her gently. She uttered a soft sigh of pleasure, her hands cupping his face as her lips parted beneath his. It was an invitation he accepted without hesitation, and his tongue swept into the warmth of her mouth. She tasted sweet and fiery at the same time.

A familiar hunger streaked its way through his blood as he teased a response from her. Despite her murmur of protest, he trailed a line of feathery kisses along her jaw. Fingers lightly caressing the rounded tops of her breasts, he followed each touch with a light kiss. When his mouth found the valley between her breasts, he slid his tongue in and out of the narrow slit in rapid strokes.

With each lick of her flesh, his head was filled with images of his cock slamming into her hot channel. She would be tight, her muscles contracting over him until he exploded inside her. The thought almost made him forget why he'd made her lie back on the table. Above his head, her tiny mewl of delight ruffled his hair in a warm breeze. With one foot, he pulled the chair closer and sank into the seat. She murmured a protest the instant he retreated from her. Pushing herself up onto her elbows, she eyed him with bewilderment.

"Whatever are you doing, Atticus," she said with a small huff of irritation. "I was enjoying you kissing me."

Eager to discover how she would respond to his more intimate kisses, he ran his hands up along her legs until his fingers were digging gently into the plump skin of her hips.

"You have the most delicious, lush legs and thighs, Aphrodite," he rasped.

Pink color darkened her cheeks at his compliment, followed by a small gasp as Atticus bent his head to kiss inside the uppermost part of one thigh and then the other. Above his head, he heard her inhale a loud gasp filled with not just shock, but excitement, too. He looked up, and his gaze locked with hers as he gently forced her to spread her legs wide to expose her completely. The moment his gaze settled on her wet sex, he dragged in a harsh breath.

"Sweet Jesus, do you have any idea how beautiful and tantalizing your body is?

His voice was hoarse as he studied her beautiful pink folds for a long moment, then jerked his gaze up to take in her expression. Shock had stained her cheeks a fiery red, but her gray eyes were bright with anticipation. The only reply she made was a small shake of her head, her mouth parted slightly as if wanting to speak but unable to find her voice. His mouth watered as he looked back down at her sex.

God, he'd never wanted any other woman as much as he wanted her. Swallowing hard, he fought back the need growing inside him, knowing if he were to make tonight as painless as possible for her, she had to be aching for him as badly as he ached for her at this precise moment. The only way to ensure that was to arouse her bit by bit until she sobbed for him to complete her.

"Do you remember what I said about fucking you with my mouth, Aphrodite?" His eyes met her gray ones, and he smiled as they widened in shocked, scandalized disbelief.

"Oh dear God," she breathed, then shook her head vehemently. "I don't think—"

"I can't tell you how often I've thought about seeing you like this, sweetheart," he murmured as he lowered his head and brushed his lips across her stomach. She gasped as his mouth trailed a slow path down to her sex.

"Atticus, I don't…I'm not sure—"

Her words ended with a cry of pleasure as his tongue licked at her hot, silky folds. Low and throaty, she moaned with delight as he probed her tight channel. After several deep strokes of his tongue exploring her folds, he turned his attention to the small bud on the edge of her sex. With a single flick of his tongue, he succeeded in pulling a low moan of ecstasy past her lips.

It was followed by a wild, keening cry as his teeth scraped over the swollen nub. Sobbing his name, she writhed against his mouth as he clamped his lips down on the plump flesh and sucked. In seconds, her body sent a hot stream of cream across his tongue. Christ Jesus, she was the most responsive woman he'd ever known.

Tart and tangy, her hot essence filled his mouth. She tasted as wonderful as he'd imagined she would. The hunger he'd been living with for more than three months made him explore her slick, velvety folds like a man who'd just found an unexpected treasure trove of delicious honey. Her hands slid through his hair as he feasted on her, while she sobbed his name in between gasps and wild cries of ecstasy.

Almost as if her pleasure was too intense, her hips shifted as if trying to escape his lips and tongue. Refusing to let her squirm away from him, his fingers bit into lush thighs to hold her in place, all the while he reveled at her abandoned response to his intimate caresses. With each stroke of his tongue, her reaction intensified and grew.

Sensual, tantalizing, and beautiful, she was the epitome of womanly passion, and he loved her all the more for it. She had submitted herself to his carnal touch without hesitation or resistance. Above his head she sobbed his name in between husky cries of raw, primal rapture. Every cry that passed her lips sent satisfaction surging through him. Plump hips bucked upward as his tongue probed her silky depths with one leisurely caress after another.

God, but she tasted good, and the way she responded to him was beyond anything he'd ever imagined. Her passionate moans had softened to mere whimpers of delight. While he loved the sound, he wanted to hear her call out his name again with that achy need in her voice he found so arousing. Determined to renew her cries, he nipped at the bud of her sex. She screamed his name as he swirled his tongue around the hot button, then with a gentle bite, he sucked on it.

Ecstasy filled her voice as she cried out his name in an exquisite cry of rapture, followed by a small shudder. The tremor pulsated against his mouth until his lips were tingling pleasantly. Triumph engulfed him as the small shudder was followed by another tremor and another until she began to writhe and buck wildly on the table.

Reaching upward as he continued to pleasure her, his fingers slid between hers to hold her hand tight in his. Her fingers flexed then clinched around his with unbelievable strength as she jerked then grew rigid. In the next breath, she shuddered violently, his name pealing out of her like a bell ringing madly. With a scream, she climaxed, and hot cream shot over his tongue for a second time.

This orgasm was even more powerful than her first, and Atticus drank from her until her tremors had almost abated. With one last stroke of his tongue across her folds, he kissed the inside of her thighs, then straightened upright in his chair. Clearly spent with pleasure, she lay on the table in front of him, her eyes closed and a small smile of satiation curving her lips.

The frantic beat of his heart thundered in his ears while his cock shouted and clamored its demand for satisfaction. Need pounded against every muscle in his body as he ached to bury himself inside her. Shuddering, he swallowed hard as he fought back the urge to take her now.

No, not like this. He'd promised himself he would make tonight unforgettable for her. Fucking her on the dining room table like a whore was not how he wanted her to remember their first time together. But he knew it was imperative to ease his own suffering or he might lose control where she was concerned. Fingers fumbling feverishly with the buttons of his trousers, Atticus released his hard erection.

"Atticus?" she whispered.

She pushed herself up to rest on her elbows and stared at him with a sleepy look of contentment. Her gaze met his as his hand wrapped around his cock in a firm grip. Gray eyes widening, she watched him intently, her tongue flicking out to lick her lips. The innocence of her action tugged a dark growl of hunger out of his chest.

"I knew you would be radiant when I made you climax, and I was right," he choked out. His gaze still locked with hers, he bobbed his head toward his erection. "See what you've done to me, Aphrodite? I'm not about to take you on the table. You deserve better than that. But God help me, I need to alleviate my hunger for you or I'll go mad."

Desperate to ease the savage need assaulting him, Atticus began to run his hand up and down his cock. Eyes widening with astonishment, Octavia stared at him in stunned fascination, her gaze riveted on the apex of his thighs as she watched him stroke himself. Pink lips formed a perfect circle of amazement, and an image of that delicious mouth of hers wrapped around his cock made him pump his flesh even harder. His gaze fell on her legs, which she'd closed, and he groaned.

"Open your legs wide, Aphrodite," he ordered in a rough voice, aching to see her exposed to him. "Let me see you. Now ."

The scandalized gasp she uttered made his body harden, and he watched as she parted her legs for him with a hesitant, slow reluctance. Wet and glistening in the soft glow of the oil lamps, Atticus had never seen such a beautiful, exquisite core in all his life.

Pink and silky looking, he remembered how tangy she'd tasted against his tongue. The memory made him pump his cock even faster. The sudden sight of her fingers sliding between her folds made him inhale a sharp breath before he released it in a rough, guttural sound. Christ Jesus , the woman might be the death of him with her instincts for knowing what would arouse him even more.

As she stroked herself, his hand slid up and down his cock at a blistering pace. The instant his sacs pulled up tight, he uttered another hoarse growl. Eyes still focused on her fingers dipping into her wet heat, Atticus reached the pinnacle his body demanded, and shouted with pleasure as he spilled his seed.

Sagging in his chair, his eyes fell shut as the aftereffects of his climax eased to a dull, pleasurable throb. He heard the sound of her skirts rustling as she scooted off the table to stand over him. The fresh scent of violets drifted beneath his nose before warm lips pressed against his in a brief, gentle kiss.

"I found that dessert wonderful," she said with a hint of mischief in her voice as she used a cloth napkin to clean his stomach. "May I have a second serving?"

Atticus opened his eyes to meet her sultry gaze. With a chuckle, he inhaled a deep breath and shook his head.

"I would never have thought you to be greedy, Octavia, but I'm delighted you enjoyed yourself."

He grinned at her, and she smiled, bending her head to kiss him again. This time, her lips lingered for a bit longer. When she raised her head, her fingers brushed across his brow to push back a lock of his hair.

"I did like it—very much," she said with a breathless laugh. "It was much better than gingerbread cake."

"Gingerbread cake, hmmm?" Atticus arched an eyebrow as if mentally weighing the merits of which dessert was better. When she narrowed her gaze at him, he chuckled. "Most definitely better than cake. Not even gingerbread cookies taste as delicious as you do, Aphrodite."

Color crested in her cheeks before her eyes softened to a slumberous, sensual gaze. While he doubted she realized it, her look was designed to seduce.

"I think I would like to taste you too," she whispered.

The soft words sent a jolt of electricity buzzing through him at her willingness to be daring. His heart slammed into his chest as she bent over him again, her mouth teasing his in a lingering, tantalizing kiss. The instant her fingertips brushed over his cock, Atticus's entire body snapped to attention. Any other woman's touch wouldn't have stirred the spent beast between his legs. But with just one kiss and the lightest of caresses, Octavia made his cock stir to life.

A low growl rolled past his lips, and he tugged her down into his lap to kiss her soundly, before he set her back on her feet. She murmured a soft, incoherent protest. The sound sent satisfaction skimming through him as he buttoned his trousers and smiled up at her.

Capturing the hand she'd used to stroke herself, he slid first one, and then another of her fingers into his mouth to lick her essence off her skin. The slight tremor pulsating against his lips was a delightful sensation as he watched her eyes flutter shut. Atticus released her and stood up.

The moment she stepped forward to press her body into his, he pulled her into a tight embrace. Arms wrapped around his neck, she stared up at him with a small smile. It held the sweetness of all that he loved about her, and a wave of happiness rushed through him. She was beautiful, and she was his, even if only for this one night.

Gray eyes suddenly darkened with an emotion that made his heart slam into his chest. It was what he'd seen in her gaze earlier, and for a second time he wondered if she had feelings for him? Feelings she was unwilling to reveal for fear of being hurt? If she was afraid to care for him, he understood why.

Unlike the fortune hunters who'd dogged her every move for just her dowry, Atticus was certain he was the first man who'd sought her out for who she was, not what she had to offer. While he was reasonably certain he'd convinced her that he had no need of her dowry, the bastards who'd pursued her had made her wary of men and their motives.

He'd be a fool to think she was willing to trust him so soon, even though he'd done everything he possibly could to convince her of his honorable intentions. She'd already agreed to marry him if her father approved of him, and Atticus believed the earl would approve with great enthusiasm.

While Atticus had no doubts Octavia would abide by her agreement to marry him, it didn't mean she couldn't demand they live in separate households or object to their sharing a bedroom. Demands he wasn't about to agree to without a fight.

Could he make tonight memorable enough for her that she might confess she felt something more than desire for him? Feelings such as those he had for her? A vise encircled his chest as he told himself not to hope for such a possibility. Atticus lowered his head and kissed her.

It was a sweet, tender caress, devoid of anything except his love and the silent offer of his heart. When he raised his head, Octavia's eyes fluttered open to stare at him with an emotion that wavered between bewilderment and longing. It was just enough emotion to make Atticus believe his chances of winning her heart were stronger than he'd realized.

Patience was the key to ensuring that happened, and where Octavia was concerned, that was something he held in short supply. Steeling himself to take things slow, Atticus smiled as he tapped his forefinger against her lips.

"Despite the fact that both of us would enjoy a repeat of that delicious dessert, we should clean up our meal first. Once I have you naked, I've no intention of letting you leave my side." Atticus chuckled as Octavia's cheeks grew fiery red.

With another quick kiss, he pulled her around the table to where their plates were, and together, they quickly cleared their meal. They worked together in companionable silence as they cleaned the dishes and wrapped up what was left of their meal to take with them on their journey back to the Hall. He finished drying the last pot and hung it on a wall hook close to the sink.

"We should probably leave first thing in the morning, just in case the weather changes unexpectedly."

Octavia didn't reply, she simply nodded and continued wiping off the kitchen table with a damp cloth. Atticus frowned. Damnation, was she regretting her decision? He closed his eyes for a brief moment, then opened them as she moved to the sink to wash out the cloth and hang it on a hook next to the dish towel.

She stood with her back to him, her spine ramrod straight. The tension in her was an almost tangible sensation on his skin, and his heart sank. She was reconsidering. Atticus cleared his throat, but before he could speak, Octavia spun around to face him, her face pink with color.

"Make love to me, Atticus. I don't think I can bear another second of this ache I feel inside me," she whispered in an almost inaudible voice. "I want you to pleasure me in every way possible, no matter how hedonistic or epicurean."

Stunned by her fervent plea, Atticus swallowed as he worked to remove the sudden knot that had formed in his throat. The moment her expression started to become one of embarrassment, and the color in her cheeks deepened, he closed the distance between them in two quick strides. His fingers tipped her chin up, and he captured her mouth in a hard kiss.

God, how he loved this woman. Tonight, he intended to make her realize she couldn't live without his touch. He would make love to her with his whole heart. In a swift movement, he lifted her up into his arms, and he scowled down at her the instant she murmured a protest. A remorseful expression softened her features, and he nodded with silent approval. Seconds later, he carried Octavia out of the kitchen and up the stairs to her room.