Page 47 of Winter's Waltz
“Yes.”
This time, she took the initiative, rising on her toes to seal her lips to his once more. They kissed slowly, deeply, tongues meeting. They were both breathless by the time it came to an end, clinging to each other. The passion between them was as raw and hot as it had ever been, about to set the room on fire.
“Why are you still wearing your shirt?” she asked.
Why indeed?
He grasped two fistfuls and hauled it over his head. “Better?”
“Much.” Her bright-blue eyes traveled over his chest with the impact of a caress.
His cock twitched as she looked her fill, and when her gaze slipped to the placket of his trousers… Well, he could not contain his enthusiasm. But he need not have feared she would shy away from his obvious reaction to her with maidenly horror. Oh, no. Not Genevieve Winter.
Instead, she reached for him, cupping him through his trousers. And he, helpless beast that he was, groaned, aching for her. Thrust his hips, sending him into her palm with shameless disregard for the fact that she had never allowed a man into her bed before.
“Bloody hell,” she said, eyes wide.
He echoed the sentiment wholeheartedly. It required the summoning of all his restraint to keep from spending in his trousers like a green lad who had just seen his first pair of bubbies. That was how strong, how intense her effect was upon him.
“Shall we stop?” he asked, because some shred of the gentleman remained within him, and because he cared for this woman. More than he cared to admit even to himself.
He would not hurt her. Nor would he pressure her into making a decision she would later regret.
She grinned. “Only if you want another punch in the beak, Marquess.”
He laughed, relief coursing through him. “I fear it cannot withstand another.”
“Wise decision.”
Bloody hell, he wanted her so much, his teeth ached. He had never been so at ease with a woman. Nor had he ever experienced this range of emotion—desire so potent he almost melted, then laughter, teasing, gentleness, poignancy and sadness, too. Everything, wrapped up into one mercurial package.
He trailed his forefinger along the gaping vee of her shirt. “I want this off,” he said, repeating her earlier words to him.
And just as he had done, she grasped her shirt and pulled it over her head. The action meant she removed her touch from his cock, but he was grateful for the reprieve.
He had touched her earlier in the day, but the beauty of her body had been denied him, concealed as it had been beneath her layers. Now, he could drink in the sight of her. Pale curves, breasts the perfect handfuls and tipped with pink, hard nipples that called for his mouth.
And there, on her abdomen, the most beautiful part of all—the evidence of the horrible tale she had told him earlier. A scar, one long slash healed over in mottled pink flesh, uneven and dark in its contrast to the otherwise smooth creaminess of her skin.
She stood stiffly, shoulders back, rather reminiscent of how he imagined a soldier might look when preparing to charge into battle. But she made no effort to cover the scar or herself.
“Ugly, isn’t it?” Her voice cut through the hushed quiet of the room, shaking him from his thoughts.
“No.” He shook his head. “Christ no, empress. It is beautiful.Youare beautiful. A warrior in every sense.”
“Just the bastard daughter of a whore and a tradesman with more wealth than honor.” Her smile was wry, her voice bitter.
Was that how she thought of herself?Damnation.He would have to do everything in his power to disabuse her of such a wrongheaded notion.
“Never speak of yourself in such a fashion again, Gen.” He dropped to his knees before her, his lips finding the raised flesh of her scar. He kissed her there. “You are glorious.”
“Max,” she protested, her hands settling on his shoulders. “I have already told you that I do not require more of your wooing or charm. I have already agreed to share my bed with you.”
“I am not wooing or charming.” He kissed higher, to where the jagged wound had ended, at her side. “I am being honest. You astound me and humble me and make me wild with wanting you. I admire you more than I can convey with words.”
But he would make amends for that lack.
He would show her with his body. He would bring her such pleasure she would never again doubt her worth.
