Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

W hen the tremors of Violet’s orgasm had faded, Edward was lying on his back next to her, his breathing still audible. She turned her head, expecting to find nothing but happiness on his face, so she was quite surprised when she discovered that he looked pensive. Had their coupling not been as good for him as it was for her?

With trepidation, she pushed up onto her elbow and asked, “Are you disappointed?”

He cleared his throat, but his voice still sounded raspy when he spoke. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“Our coupling. Did it disappoint you?” Had he hoped she’d be more inexperienced? Had he hated the way she’d explored him? Had her aggression been too much?

Uncertainty clawed up her spine.

He made a sound she couldn’t interpret, and then said, “Are you serious?”

She swallowed and nodded shakily. “Quite.”

How could he not tell that she was about to become unhinged by his calmness? Why wasn’t he wrecked by their passion when she was barely holding herself together?

“Of course I’m not disappointed. I’m—” His words died, and he frowned.

She wanted to scream at him to finish the sentence. “You’re what? Why the seriousness? Are you jealous of my past experience? Because if you are, do I get to be jealous of Lady H?”

His brows drew together. “Lady H?”

“It was in an old scandal sheet—you and Lady H engaging in a torrid affair.”

His laugh startled her as he picked up his head and locked his gaze with hers. “It was hardly torrid, and furthermore, you have no reason to be jealous of Lady Hayden. Our brief interlude was over in mere weeks, and I’ve hardly thought of her since.” His jaw tightened. “She feigned an interest in me for long enough to infuriate her husband.” He squinted like he didn’t care, but his next words made it clear that he did. “Our dalliance cost me Sebastian’s respect and soured my only foray into society.”

“She played you false?” she asked, suddenly desperate to know more about his past, even though she knew she wasn’t supposed to care.

“Not entirely. Lady Hayden wasn’t disinterested, simply more focused on enraging Lord Hayden than anything else.” He rolled over, throwing his leg over her thighs and engulfing her in his warmth. “That experience taught me a valuable lesson, and my straight face just now was an attempt to conceal my utter shock. Our chemistry is almost unbelievable. I had no idea coupling could be like that, and I wasn’t sure how to react.” He moved closer until his front pressed firmly against her side. “Although now that you mention it, I suppose I am slightly jealous of any man who has touched any part of you.”

She huffed as color rose into her cheeks.

She probably appeared embarrassed, but she was not.

She was aroused.

Again.

Still.

Her attraction to him appeared to be the sort that poets wrote sonnets about.

It wasn’t love, she reminded herself firmly.

Just all-consuming lust.

“I’ve never done that before. I was being honest. Basil and I were…well…we never made it to consummation. He insisted we wait until we were married.”

“You loved him, and you wanted him. I can be jealous of him if I choose to be.”

She didn’t want him to be jealous. She was his now, and no one else mattered. Especially not Basil.

“I married you,” she reminded him, as his fingers gently skimmed the sensitive skin between her breasts. Her breath caught in her throat. How was it that she wanted him just as much now as she’d wanted him before? Wasn’t lust supposed to dissipate for a time once it was satisfied?

She’d always assumed the desire she felt for Basil was so powerful because it was unfulfilled. He’d allowed her to pleasure him, and while she had enjoyed exploring his body and had felt a heady joy anytime he’d erupted in her hand or her mouth, it had not been enough to inspire her own fulfillment. It had been too one-sided.

Being with Edward, though, had shattered her.

And made her crave more.

He dropped a light kiss on her mouth. “I’m glad you married me.”

The satisfaction she heard in his voice meant more to her than it should. If she wanted to protect her heart, she probably should extricate herself from his arms and remove herself from his proximity, but she couldn’t make herself do either while he was touching her like there was nothing more he wanted to do in all the world.

He kept stroking her so gently that she had to clench her jaw so she didn’t beg for more. The longer he caressed her flushed skin, the more mindless she became. At some point, she forgot about the distance she ought to keep between them and started babbling nonsensical words and making sounds that had no meaning except to urge him to keep going.

She was more than familiar with untamed passion, but this time she had been both the seducer and the seduced, and it was so unlike her previous experiences that she couldn’t contain her reactions. She trembled as his fingers trailed across the soft curls at the apex of her thighs, and the last vestiges of her control splintered.

“Please,” her broken voice demanded, although she didn’t know exactly what she was asking for. Release, obviously. But something else too. The plea escaped again. “Please.”

He rolled completely, pinning her beneath his superior weight. She squirmed—not so she could get him to release her—but so she could feel him everywhere. Shifting and widening her knees in invitation, she let him know without words that she wanted him inside her again.

“You must be sore,” he told her when she locked her feet around his waist.

She growled in response. Even if he was right, she didn’t care, and she didn’t appreciate him trying to protect her. “You touched me like you wanted more, and now I’m desperate. I don’t care if I’m sore.”

“You—” he started, but she cut him off with a kiss.

“Don’t tease me. Give me what I want,” she demanded against his lips.

“So insistent,” he whispered into her mouth. She would have kept demanding, but she didn’t have to, because he levered his hips at exactly the right angle to slide into her silky folds.

The pinch of discomfort she experienced was more than worth it.

She might be sore, but she wasn’t sore enough that she wanted him to stop, so she locked her legs around his waist and pulled him down until his lips met hers. He rocked into her, slowly at first, and then his pace increased as he became more fevered. She clung to him, her hands trailing up to his shoulders and then back down to cup his tight buttocks.

More words slipped from her lips. They were inarticulate and garbled, and they still urged him on. The scrape of chest hair against her sensitive nipples and the desperate sounds that escaped him were better than the sweetest song she’d ever heard, and when he stiffened and came inside her, she tightened her limbs and let his weight sink onto her.

His muscles were lax even after his breath became steadier. He tried to pick his head up, but she wound her hands into his short curls and pressed his face into her neck.

“I’m crushing you,” he mumbled against her sweaty skin.

“Let me feel you for another minute.”

She could hardly expect him to stay on top of her forever, so eventually she released her grip and allowed him to shift to her side. Propping his head on his right hand, his left hand trailed a line from her chin down the center of her body.

When he reached her curls once again, she grabbed his hand and shook her head.

“Was it too much?” he asked softly. “Were you too sore to enjoy it?”

“No. It was perfect, but I’m overly sensitive now, and my body needs to rest.”

His hand splayed open against her belly. “You didn’t find your pleasure.” His fingers moved gently against her skin. “I’m afraid I lost sight of anything except my own.”

“Oh.” She was surprised he’d noticed. Or cared. Basil had never seemed to. “I…uh…still enjoyed it. A lot. Being connected to you is…” She was unsure of how to put into words how much satisfaction she received from seeing him come undone. “…like a dream.”

His hand left her belly and cupped her cheek. “I’m not sure what I did to deserve such honesty.” Then he kissed her softly and laid his head on her pillow. He didn’t say anything else before he slipped into sleep.

It should have been easy for her to doze off, too, but his breath fluttered the hair that curled at her nape, and now that he wasn’t awake to distract her, she couldn’t avoid the thoughts in her head. They whirled and tangled and made her question everything she had done.

Loving Basil had taught her that it was hard for her to separate her physical response from her emotional one, and she’d hoped that the fact that she didn’t love Edward would give her a modicum of restraint over her feelings.

She should have known better.

She was nothing but foolish when it came to lust and attractive men.

It would not be easy for her to keep her heart uninvolved, and when her eyes finally closed, she couldn’t help wondering if it was too late.

Were her feelings for Edward already developing?