“If you will admit it…we’ve had each other already.”
A flush mounted on his cheek, and he stepped back one more step. Phoebe ran to him in a few steps and jumped. Shock flared in his gaze, but he caught her effortlessly, and she scandalously wrapped her legs around his hips, uncaring dress and pelisse had ridden up to her thighs and her stocking-clad legs and half boots were on display. Now they were face to face.
“Every night you’ve been running from me to the lake, trying to drown the images in your mind of taking me. In your thoughts you are not controlled, are you, my husband?” She nipped the corner of his lips. “You ravish me. And the desperate hunger that fills you scares you.”
He shook his head slowly, as if in a daze.
“You cannot deny it, for I know it because I too have had you,” she whispered, right at his ear.
A powerful quake went through him.
“Shall I tell you how I’ve had you, husband? How many nights in my thoughts you’ve kissed more than my lips…how many nights I’ve imagined that you kissed all over my body to that aching heart of me. Shall I tell you how many nights you’ve climbed atop me and pushed my nightgown to my hips and entered my body? Shall I tell you in my dreams I’ve sobbed from the delight of it even though I have never experienced such a pleasure?”
His chest rose and fell, and the hands gripping her hips tightened almost painfully.
A wave of heat rushed through her, and though she blushed frightfully, Phoebe continued. “I’ve had you in my dreams…every night since the first time you kissed me.” She kissed the corner of his mouth then bit on his bottom lip tenderly before peering into his eyes. “Show me…tonight…now…show me all the ways you have taken me. Claim me as yours.”
Chapter Fifteen
To Phoebe’s shock, Hugh lowered her to the ground almost violently. Then he grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the main house in the far distance. She wasn’t sure what she had hoped for with her sensual taunting, but it wasn’t this. Swallowing down the knot of uncertainty in her belly, she instead directed her thoughts on the excitement that still thrummed in her veins.
No words were spoken as they walked for several long, pulse-pounding minutes, hand in hand to the main house. Anticipation enlivened her blood, and her heart was like the roar of the ocean in her ears. The butler opened the door before they could even knock, and Phoebe fought to keep the blush from her cheeks when Hugh swung her into his arms once they crossed the threshold.
With a squeak of mortification, she buried her face in his throat, quite aware of the butler’s astonished stare before he snapped his head forward and away from them. This drew a giggle from her, and it reassured her greatly when his lips touched her forehead in the barest, softest hint of a caress.
He climbed the stairs effortlessly with her clasped against his chest, and he did not lower her to the ground until he had entered their room. Their bedsheets were turned down, a lamp had been lit, and a fire roared in the hearth, shaving away the chill of the night.
He did not lift his fingers to speak to her, and nervousness had knotted her tongue. Hugh took her hands and led her closer to the fire but stopped them in the center of the palatial room. He brushed the wild tangles of her hair from her face, pushing strands behind her ears. Then he untied her coat, went behind her, and eased it from her shoulders.
Phoebe’s heart gave a patter in warning.
He dropped her coat to the carpet, and Phoebe stared at him wordlessly when he came back around, lowered to his knees, and removed her boots. Shock jerked through her as she realized he was undressing her. Her gaze jumped to the bed and then to the top of his head. “Hugh…I…”
He glanced up, and her words strangled at the intensity in his gaze. Show me, she had urged wickedly, and now the moment was upon her, a fine trembling cascaded through her body.
“I have been waiting for this…for you,” she breathed.
His eyes darkened, and his fingers lifted from her shin. “Every day I have hungered for you, Phoebe. Every day it was a torture not to take you.”
The tension thickened, and her heart jerked so fiercely, she felt weak. He resumed his duties and removed her boots fully. His fingers coasted up her shin to the garters holding up her stockings. He rolled them off, one by one.
He stood and shrugged from his jacket then his waistcoat. With a sense of shock, Phoebe realized he would remove all his clothes here…right now.
She curled her toes into the carpet. “I…I have never seen a naked man before,” she blurted.
His gaze sharpened and glittered with fierce triumph, and the fingers untying his neckcloth paused briefly. How silly it all sounded considering she had birthed a child. Now she wished she had told him the details of how she had lost her virtue. But she had been too grateful he hadn’t demanded a great explanation. But what if he now had expectations of her experience as a lover? Phoebe felt woefully unprepared for this level of intimacy and boldness.
She cast her mind to the past and recalled that before she had even dared to kiss George that night, she had consumed at least five glasses of sherry, and everything had been hazy and warm. Though she did not think she needed the liquid courage to be warm, for she was already burning with a frightful heat.
“Have you…have you done this before?”
A crooked half smile curved his lips, and he nodded once.
The neckcloth dropped to the floor, and his shirt was dragged from his trousers, the buttons undone. How fiercely her heart shook, and a sweet, mystifying ache trembled low in her belly when he pushed the shirt from his body.
Oh! The body he was revealing was lithe and beautifully muscled, showing not an ounce of fat. His hands went to his trousers, and she couldn’t bear to look anymore. She heard when they fell to the floor, imagined she heard when he removed his stockings from his feet. Phoebe could feel his stare on her face and fighting the blush, she faced him. He was…splendidly formed, corded with smooth muscle, full of power and elegance. Tight buttocks flowed into lean, strong legs.
She colored fiercely as she glanced at his manhood. He jutted proudly, and to her mind he seemed significantly larger than all the wicked paintings and sculptures she had seen. He padded over to her, and his male beauty stole her breath. Her heart pounded, and her hands trembled as she reached out and touched him, trailing her fingertips over his chest.
He was so beautiful.
The stark lines of his face were heightened by desire. Hugh cupped her cheek and took her mouth with his. Phoebe clutched at his arms and tipped slightly onto her toes. His kiss offered no mercy, but she didn’t want that tender consideration, responding to the ravishing force of his kiss with artless wonder.
It was over too soon, and a soft sigh of need escaped from her. In complete silence, he removed her chemise and stays, stockings, and drawers. Phoebe stood naked before her husband, the curtain of her hair covering her breasts and shoulders. A wave of shyness engulfed her, but she lifted her chin and returned his stare. He seemed awe-struck, and the awareness of it filled her with a sense of wonder. His regard was slow and pointedly bold as he perused her body. Desire lit the beautiful depths of his eyes as they moved over her face and then down the length of her.