Fans of Eloisa James & Julia Quinn discussion
Monday Puzzler
>
Two for the price of one part two
date
newest »
newest »
He's a keeper! Woman, your days of independence are over....
it seems like I've read it, but I can't place it.
Mod
Mod
“You said,” she reminded him, “that you did not want me here. That is quite understandable. I do not want to be here either. It was part of our agreement that neither of us wished to spend any more time in the other’s company than was strictly necessary.”
She heard him set down her bag. She did not want to turn and look at him. He was wearing his uniform—the old, almost shabby one—and was looking altogether too formidable to be dealt with in such a restricted space.
“But the words were ill-chosen and ill-mannered,” he said. “I did not mean them quite the way they sounded.”
“And you said,” she continued more deliberately, turning after all to glare accusingly at him, “that you do have the power to command your own wife. That was more than despicable, Colonel. We married for our mutual convenience. We parted with every intention of never communicating again. The question of your mastery and my subservience was never raised between us, the reason being that I am not your wife. Not in any way that matters.”
He was angry too now. She could see it in the hardness of his jaw and the narrow set of his eyes. “Perhaps, ma’am,” he said, “that is where we made our mistake.”
“Mistake?”
“Agreeing to a marriage in name only,” he said. “We should at least have made a real marriage of it even if we were to live the rest of our lives apart. Then there would be none of this ridiculous debate about whether you are really my wife or not, about whether I should pay certain of your bills or not, about whether I have the right to command my brother to leave you in peace or not. Perhaps we ought to have carried our wedding day to its natural conclusion.”
She stared at him, her cheeks hot. But during the precious seconds she should have used to find words with which to express her outrage, she instead paused to feel the physical effects of his words—a certain loss of breath, a tightening in her breasts, a pulsing ache between her thighs and up inside her, and a weakness about the knees.
“It would have been wrong,” she said. “Neither of us wanted that.”
“Wrong? We are man and woman,” he said harshly, “and a few weeks ago we married. Men and women, especially married ones, go to bed together. They satisfy certain needs there. Have you never felt such needs?”
She licked her lips and swallowed. She wished the window were open. The room felt airless.
He made an impatient sound then and came striding across the room toward her, detouring about the foot of the bed. She set her back firmly against the windowsill and gripped it from behind with both hands. He stood before her, his legs braced apart, his large hands coming up to cup her face. She closed her eyes and his mouth descended on hers, closed, hard, pressing her lips rather painfully against her teeth. But almost immediately the pressure became lighter as he parted his lips over hers and licked at the seam with his tongue, coaxing a response and causing a sharp sensation there and a deeper throbbing between her legs.
When her lips parted, and then her teeth, he pressed his tongue deep into her mouth, exploring its surfaces with the tip. One of his hands was splayed against the back of her head, holding it close.
Her first conscious thought was that she was being disloyal, unfaithful. But unfaithful to whom? Colonel Hero was her husband. She was married to him. If she did not do these things with him now, she would never do them with anyone. Ever. The thought brought with it a desperate yearning and she moved her hands to his shoulders. They were impossibly broad and hard-muscled, even allowing for his heavy military coat. She kissed him back, angling her head, opening her mouth wider, touching his tongue with her own. She allowed herself to acknowledge her own desire.
Heat flared between them in a rush of passion. His hands had moved away from her head. One arm was wrapped about her waist. The other hand was spread behind her hips. It drew her firmly against him so that she was breathlessly aware of heavy leather boots, hard, muscled thighs, and masculinity. Her arms clasped him about the neck while her body strained toward his, desperate to move closer, closer . . .
When he lifted his head and looked down at her, she was jolted for a moment by the realization of just what was happening and with whom. His hook-nosed face was as dark, as harsh as ever. She should have been a little frightened, perhaps a little repelled.
Instead she felt only more deeply aroused, especially when she looked into his heavy-lidded eyes and saw an answering passion there.
“We are going to consummate this marriage of ours,” he said, “on that bed behind me. If you do not want it, say so now. I am not issuing any commands.”
It had not been a part of their bargain. Indeed, it had seemed very important at the time—to both of them—that they be married in name only, that they part as soon after the ceremony as they could. She could no longer remember their reasons. She would later when she was thinking more rationally. She would hate herself later if she continued now, if she gave in to sheer lust. But why would she? If there was a reason, she could not think what it could be. They were, after all, man and wife.
“I want it,” she said, surprised by the low huskiness of her voice. But she held up
a staying hand almost immediately. “There is something you must know first, though.”
She almost lost her nerve. He raised his eyebrows.
“I am not a virgin.”
He went very still and searched her eyes with his own while she listened to the echo of her words, appalled. She had never once dreamed that she would have to confess that to him.
“Ah,” he said then, very softly. “Fair enough. Neither am I.”