Jackson caught her wrist and placed her palm on his chest. His skin was smooth, except for the light-gold matting of hair on his chest, and he was wonderfully warm.
“Heavens . . .” Jane didn’t seem to have any other word for what she felt. It was like heaven to remember how good it felt to be young and full of life’s hungers. Tears suddenly welled in her eyes.
“Did I do something wrong?” He cupped her chin and lifted her face up when she tried to hide.
“No. It’s silly.” They stared at each other for a long, tense moment.
“Am I a fool to want something more with you?” Jackson asked. “Have we passed that point in our lives for second chances?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “But I admit, you make me feel young again. And I feel guilty in so many ways, especially for wanting . . .” She dared not finish her thought.
“For wanting love again?”
“It seems foolish to think it’s possible,” Jane said. “Youth is full of impulse and desire, and as one matures one replaces those feelings with more practical needs . . .”
“Until one sees those youthful feelings as misguided rather than important,” Jackson finished.
“Yes, exactly. My life has been focused on duty, honor, and propriety for so long now. Even though I care little for the opinions of others, I have structured my life around the needs of my children and the stability of my family. I haven’t thought about what I wanted in a long time.”
“Nor have I. Perhaps it’s time we started?” Jackson brushed his fingers down her neck in the most wonderful way, sending shivers of delight through her.
“Perhaps it is.” Jane stared at his full lips. It made her rather giddy to imagine them exploring hers. He continued to stroke her neck, which mesmerized her and had her nodding before she could stop and think better of it. Jackson took control and pulled her into his arms.
Jane, a force of nature who had made even dukes tremble, melted in this man’s arms as he kissed her. She had forgotten how she loved to be kissed, to be the sole focus of a man’s passion.
“Good Lord,” Jackson groaned as he buried his face in her neck.
“Yes?” she teased as her hands roamed over his chest and back.
He returned his mouth to hers, stealing little nibbling kisses. “I could kiss you for days.” He parted her dressing gown to explore her curves. She was shy about her body, which was no longer as young and firm as it once had been.
“Would you let me look at you, my darling?” Jackson asked.
My darling. She could have swooned. It had been too long since a man had used such an endearment for her.
“Jackson . . .” She breathed his name as her senses spun.
“Yes?” He feathered kisses along her jaw as his heated body pressed against her own.
“Take me to bed,” she commanded in a whisper.
He lifted her up, carrying her straight to his bed. She lay back as he closed the door to his room.
Heavens, he was a beautiful man. There was something to be said about a man who kept his physique. He was strong, sturdy in a way that most younger men were not. There was a promise that he knew his body and a woman’s and she would not be disappointed with the outcome. He took his time, removing his trousers as she looked on.
“Your turn,” he said as he approached the bed.
Jane sat up and removed her dressing gown. She loosened the ties of her chemise at her throat, and the fabric dropped off her shoulders. He reached up to stroke his fingertips over her skin just above the chemise, which still hung over her breasts, before he carefully pulled it down to her waist to expose her fully.
Jane was blushing as red as her hair. Her body was not that of a young girl’s. Her breasts were larger, heavier with the passing of time and nursing children. She wondered if Jackson would find her disappointing, but she was stunned to find only heat in his eyes.
“Exquisite,” he said as he brushed his thumb over one nipple. Jane’s body came alive after years of being dormant.
He moved closer, laying her back on the bed so he could pull the chemise down the rest of her body and drop it to the floor.
“Jane, you are a vision.” Jackson groaned as he leaned over her and stepped between her parted thighs.
“As are you.” She gazed in admiration at his strong, muscled form and the boyish grin that covered his lips. “What is it?” Jane asked as he caressed her breasts before sliding a hand down her body to her folds. She hissed as he sank a fingertip into her, testing her readiness. She was ready—there was no doubt of that.
“I feel like an untried youth being allowed a night with a most beautiful buxom maid. I want to leap on you and take you fast, but I also wish to savor every moment. It’s been a very long time since I felt that way.” There was an undeniable softness behind the heat in his gaze. It made the moment between them so much sweeter.
“Let us savor it. It has been a long time for me as well, and I am honestly not sure I remember how to do it properly.”
Jackson laughed and leaned over the bed to capture her mouth. Just like that, they rushed headlong into the moment together. He thrust into her body. He was slow and gentle at first, and Jane threw her head back on the bed. His eyes drifted over her as he withdrew and entered her again, making love to her at a leisurely pace, and she started to beg him for more. As the pleasure built between them, Jane let go of every thought and simply surrendered to her feminine needs.
She cried out Jackson’s name as she came apart, and he followed her a heartbeat later, shouting her name. He held her hips as she trembled with the aftermath of pleasure.
If she was being honest, she hadn’t gone without private moments of satisfaction all these years, but there was nothing better than a real man and real passion. The simple touches in the privacy of her bath were but a shadow compared to this.
Jackson joined her on the bed and pulled her into his arms. “Do you have regrets?”
Jane rested her chin on his chest, and he ran his fingers through the loose tumble of her red hair. “Regrets? With you? No.” She was silent a moment as she collected her thoughts. “I do regret that I’ve gone so long without having a connection to a man again. I do regret that.”
“It is rather strange,” Jackson mused. “When I lost my Marianna, many women made it quite clear that they would happily marry me. But the thought of it, sharing my life with another woman, even a mistress . . . I couldn’t imagine it.”
“You’ve had no women, not even a mistress, after all this time?”
His face reddened. “There was one night exactly a year after my wife died. I was wandering around in a rather bad part of London. I found a tavern and was quite determined to drink or gamble away every coin in my purse, but I ended up meeting a maid working in the taproom. She was not a prostitute, but a barmaid. Still young, but not so young as the others, and I felt she was closer to me in age and might be a nice companion to talk to. I paid her to sit and talk with me between seeing to her tables. Molly was her name. She was a sweet woman, and at the end of the night, she offered me her hand and led me upstairs. We coupled in the dark, and she let me call her Marianna, and afterward I wept like a young boy. It was . . .” Jackson’s throat closed. “That was the only time.” His hazel eyes settled on Jane’s face.