Page 63 of Love, the Duke
“Don’t say it,” she said, putting her hands over her ears as she laughed. “Of course, the scar.”
He circled her in his arms again. “Lift my hair and look at it all you want and then we will talk about the other part of me that you should be curious about.”
Ophelia raised on her toes as she moved his hair aside. The scar ran about two inches and very close to his hairline. “That must have been quite a wound.”
“As best I remember it hurt for weeks. Thanks to your mother and father for tending to it so quickly I had no infection, and it healed quickly.”
“Is that why you’ve always worn your hair low on your forehead?”
“Probably and I’ve never had a reason to change it.”
“I’m glad. Not because you can’t see the scar, but because the way you wear it is very attractive.”
His smile let her know he would acquiesce to her compliment once again. She was happy he wasn’t worried about her eyeing any of the other members of his club. She was positive none of them could come close to the way she felt about Hurst. Certainly, none of them caused her breath to catch in her throat like her husband.
He put his hand to the back of her head and ran it down the length of her hair. Even in that small touch she felt gentle power in his hand.
Hurst reached over and kissed the side of her face near her ear and inhaled deeply. “You are the one who is very attractive and very enticing. I love to smell the sweet fragrance of your skin, your hair.”
She loved hearing him say those things and feeling his lips on hers. Emotions deep and earnest swirled inside her. She only wanted to experience and enjoy them.
“Are you cold?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“Raise your arms,” he said gruffly. “I want to hold you close to me without your dress between us,” he murmured.
Ophelia obeyed without question. He took hold of the hem of her sleeveless silk gown, lifted it up and over her head, and sent it the way of the other clothing. The fine cotton chemise came off as quickly and was discarded as easily, leaving her standing in her lace-trimmed stays and drawers that ended just above her knees.
His lips slowly eased into a smile as his gaze swept over her. “You are the beautiful one, my darling wife.”
He bent his head, closed his eyes, and kissed the pillowy rise of her breasts showing from beneath the lacy neckline of her white stays. The coolness of his lips on her warm skin was inviting. Luxuriant sensations stirred and mounted warmly inside her. Her breath grew short and fast. Ophelia kissed the warm space between his neck and shoulder and let her lips travel with short raindrop kisses to just beneath his jaw as if it was the most natural of things for her to do. She could tell it gave him breathtaking pleasure and her too.
Taking her into his arms, he kissed her slowly, delightfully, thrilling her. Her arms fell over his bare shoulders. Her hands caressed him as she returned his kisses, sweeping her tongue through his mouth as his fingers wove and tangled in the length of her hair while still holding her close to him.
She nestled against his chest as they settled into a mixture of slow, tender, and eager kisses that kept her softly panting. Hurst slid his hands up and down her spine until he found the laces of her stays. Quickly, he worked themloose, one after the other until the garment opened and fell at their feet. He hugged her close, hard chest to her soft bare breasts. Warm and strong, yet gentle. She could lose herself in the way he touched her, and the way his hands skimmed down her waist to the swell of her hips and down the sides of her thighs with tenderness.
He looked into her eyes. “You feel wonderful and as if you were made just for me.”
A slight laugh passed her lips. “For some reason, I was just feeling the same—as if I were made for you.”
“You were,” he whispered, his lips pressing against hers once more. “That makes us both right.”
“For a change,” she answered in a hushed tone with a smile upon her lips.
“I want you, Ophelia. No other woman. Just you for the rest of my life.”
“Just you for me too,” she answered, kissing over his jawline down his strong neck and over the curve of his shoulder.
“You’re not nervous, are you?” he asked as he cupped the back of her head in his hand.
“No.” She fit her body closer to him. “Not anymore.”
Keeping his gaze riveted on her eyes, he said huskily, “Long before the first time I kissed you, I recognized your sensuality. Ever since, I have longed to explore it with you, and I’m eager to bring it to life.”
His words filled her with anticipation of what was to come, and she watched as his trousers and her drawers were easily disposed of. Hurst helped her to lie down and then he joined her, fitting himself facing her with her breasts pressed against his chest. There was no doubt he was aroused, and the wedding night had begun.
Taking his time while they kissed and kissed, Hurst caressed her breasts with gentle loving strokes, the flat area of her stomach and navel, over her hips and down the plane of her slender thighs. Ophelia didn’t stop touching him either. Following his lead, she explored his body too.
