Page 72 of More or Less a Countess
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Hours later, she awoke with a start. There’d been a noise, a soft click—the door opening?
There was a muted thud, then a second one, the sound of a pair of boots dropping to the floor, then a faint rustle of clothing, and unsteady footsteps approaching the bed.
Nick had returned.
Every muscle in Violet’s body drew taut as he stumbled across the room and paused by the bed. A glimmer of light shone under the crack in the door, but it was too dark to see his face. She heard him, though—each one of his deep, rasping breaths as he hesitated beside the bed.
What would he do? Would he crawl in beside her and turn away at once, or—
His hand dropped to the bed, and Violet held her breath as he lifted the edge of the coverlet and slid underneath.
She didn’t move—not so much as a twitch—but her heart was racing.
The bed was a large one, and he kept a respectable distance between them, but his body felt enormous next to hers. His side of the bed sagged under his muscular weight, and Violet found herself clinging to the edge of the mattress to keep from rolling into him.
He made no move to touch her. He lay as still as she did, but she could sense him in the dark, the rise and fall of his chest, and his scent, that hint of amber and wood seemed to surround her. Tonight there was something else as well, something rich and slightly sweet that made her want to inhale deeply…
Whiskey.
Had he been drinking all this time? He’d stumbled a bit when he’d crossed the room, and then he’d collapsed into the bed as if someone had shoved him from behind. He must be in his cups—
Violet froze as he shifted on the bed. He rolled onto his side, facing her, and a moment later a large, warm hand touched a lock of her hair. A low, husky sound rumbled from deep in his chest, and then he was stroking her loose hair, his long fingers sliding through the heavy locks, his touch careful, gentle.
He didn’t say a word, and Violet, who wouldn’t have known what to say even if she could have spoken, also remained silent. Perhaps he thought she was asleep, and wouldn’t have touched her at all if he knew she felt every movement of his fingers, heard every one of his heavy breaths rasp through his lungs.
He caressed her hair for a long time, until the rhythmic strokes of his hand had nearly lulled her back to sleep, but then she felt the back of his fingers slide across her cheek.
His breath caught, and his entire body went rigid beside hers.
Violet didn’t move, couldn’t breathe as he stroked his fingertips across the sensitive skin under her eye. As he touched her face, a low, broken sound tore from his chest.
That’s when Violet understood.
She’d been weeping in her sleep, and his fingers had come away wet.
“Don’t cry.” It was a whisper only, more of a breath than a sound, and slightly slurred from the whiskey, but that small, unexpected kindness made more tears sting her eyes.
He slid to the middle of the bed, draped his arm across her body, and buried his face in her neck. Violet tensed at once, uncertain what was happening. Had he forgiven her, and intended to consummate the marriage, or, dear God, had henotforgiven her, and intended to consummate it anyway? She was his wife, and it was his right to do so, but the thought of being so vulnerable to him even as she knew he despised her made a desperate whimper rise to her lips.
“Shhhh.” He nuzzled his lips against her ear and caressed her shoulder in long, soothing strokes. “Just want to touch you.”
His words were slurred, but his touch remained gentle despite his incoherence, and it felt so good to be held by him Violet let herself melt against him.
Once he felt her relax, Nick slid her nightdress off her shoulder and traced his fingertips over her bare skin. “So soft…”
Violet gasped a little when he leaned over her to press his open lips where his fingers had been, and his mouth grew greedy as he kissed and nipped the tender skin there. He dragged his lips lower, his hand cupping one of her breasts as he suckled at the pale skin just above the low neck of her nightdress.
Violet shifted under him, her hands clutching at his shoulders, but he eased her back down to the bed with a hand in the middle of her chest. “Lie back.”
He smoothed his palm over her stomach, then grasped a handful of her nightdress in his fist and raised it over her thighs. He paused to gaze at her after he’d bared her, and a low, hungry groan broke from his lips. His breath quickened and deepened as he slid his hand up the inside of her thigh, nudged her legs open, and brushed a fingertip over her curls.
Violet nearly rolled off the bed at the sensation, but Nick held her, his mouth closing over the tip of her breast as he stroked between her legs again, his thumb circling the tender flesh where she ached the most. His touch was light, but the combination of his hot mouth over her nipple and that slow, maddening finger made her body arch and tighten with anticipation in a way Violet had never felt before.
Whatever her body was doing, Nick seemed to approve of it, because he let out a long, hoarse groan and circled faster, his touch more insistent. When her hips began to arch against his hand he groaned again, and sank one long finger into her, moving it in and out in careful thrusts until something inside her gave way and pleasure rushed from between her legs and over her entire body, so intense she cried out as she twisted beneath him.
After it was over she lay there, dazed, a light sheen of sweat covering her body. Nick smoothed her nightdress down over her legs and drew the coverlet over her. Then he sighed, and something about the sound was so lonely, so hopeless, the tears swelled in Violet’s throat again, choking her, until at last she gave way to them, and her body shook with silent sobs.
