Page 89 of More or Less a Countess
I can’t do this.
Deep inside, Violet began to tremble. She jerked at the door knob, desperate to get away, but Nick reached down to cover her hand with his, and stopped her from turning it. “No.”
He was too close—so close she could feel the vibration of that one quiet word against her back, and he wouldn’t let her go, and she was tired, so tired…
Tears began to spill down her cheeks, and Violet gave into them. She let her forehead fall against the door, let the despair take her, but for all her heartbreak these were quiet tears, her weeping silent in the still room.
But Nick heard her. He heard, but he didn’t try to stop it. He didn’t say a word, but pulled a long, shuddering breath into his lungs, then slowly, as if he were afraid he’d frighten her if he moved too quickly, he wrapped his arms around her and gathered her against his chest.
He held her for a long time, until at last the final tear was wrung from her and her gasping sobs quieted. She was too exhausted to struggle with him, so she simply stood, every muscle in her body trembling with fatigue, and waited for him to release her.
He didn’t. He brushed the hair away from her neck with gentle fingers and buried his face in the sensitive curve of her shoulder. Violet tensed, but before she could shy away from the unexpected caress, Nick made a soothing noise in his throat. “Shhhh.”
His lips ghosted over her neck, his kiss so soft Violet wasn’t sure she hadn’t imagined it until he followed it with another, then another. His mouth moved over her, dropping dozens of tiny kisses on every bare inch of skin he could reach—her neck, the curve of her nape and the arch of her shoulder. His lips were so tender, so sweet and gentle, Violet’s eyes filled with tears again.
Nick held her through every shudder, every ache—he took her pain into himself until at last the tension left her and she sagged against him.
And still, he never spoke a word.
He let his touch speak for him.
He caught her hands in his and placed her palms flat against the door, and then, one by one, he loosened the buttons on the back of her gown. A low, hungry sound rumbled in his throat when he saw she wore only a thin shift beneath. He traced his fingertips up her spine to the heavy coil of hair at her neck and slid the pins loose, his breath catching on a quiet gasp when her hair spilled down her back. He gathered the heavy curls in his fists and buried his face in them, inhaling deeply before he draped them over her shoulder and brought his open mouth back to her neck.
His lips were warm as they tasted her skin. Violet could feel the tension vibrating in him, the barely leashed desire in his body, and a soft cry left her lips. Nick went still for a moment, then he nuzzled his face into the curve of her shoulder. “Shhh.”
He soothed her with soft murmurs, much as one might soothe a distraught child, but he touched her with passionate purpose—the way a man touches a woman he desires—a woman he intends to have.
He was going to make her his, and it was going to benow.
“My lord—”
Violet tried to turn then, to face her husband, but he curved an arm across her shoulders and held her still. “Shhhh.”
She opened her mouth to reply, but his lips drifted over her neck, and all that emerged was a breathless sigh, and…oh, dear God, she couldn’t catch her breath as Nick slipped his fingers into the open back of her gown. He drew the soft muslin over her shoulders and down her arms, then lower, down her back and over her hips, baring her skin to his gaze, until at last he tugged the gown free of her body and tossed it aside.
He let out a low groan when she stood before him in only her shift, then he sank to his knees behind her and pressed his lips to the arch of her back.
Violet curled her fingers into the hard wood and bit her bottom lip to keep from whimpering as he plucked at the bows on her garters and slid her stockings down her legs, but nothing could silence her cry when he rose from his knees behind her with the hem of her shift caught in his fist.
But she didn’t protest, and she didn’t hesitate. She raised her arms and let him drag her shift over her head.
When she was bare before him, he took her shoulders in his hands and turned her to face him. His lids had gone heavy over those shadowy gray eyes, but even in the dim light Violet could see the way they darkened with desire as he took in every flushed inch of her skin, lingering on her bare belly, her breasts, her throat and neck.
Her mouth.
His eyes burned as he leaned toward her, and Violet tipped her head back against the door, parted her lips, and let her eyes drift closed, her body trembling in anticipation of his kiss.
But it never came.
He drew in a harsh breath, and Violet opened her eyes to find he’d gone still. He stared at her for long moments without speaking, then he reached forward and traced the remnants of her tears on her cheeks.
“I’m sorry I hurt you.” His voice was low and choked. “Whatever happens between us, this…” He brushed his thumbs under her eyes to dry the last of her tears. “It ends now.”
He didn’t wait for her reply, but gathered her into his arms, crossed the room, and lay her gently on his bed. He didn’t join her, but stood motionless by the side of the bed, gazing down at her as if he’d never seen her before.
Because he hasn’t.
The realization came to Violet with a pang of bitter regret. He’d touched her intimately, tasted her, and brought her to release in his arms, but he’d never before seen her spread across his bed. She was hiswife, and he’d never before seen her body bared for his pleasure.
