He smoothed his hand over her cheek and then leaned forward to kiss her forehead. “Why don’t you eat something. The lasagna smells wonderful. There’s nothing you can do tonight. Maybe a solution will present itself in the morning.”
She nodded morosely and he scooted his seat back. He picked the knife back up and cut into the lasagna, spooning out neat squares onto the plates.
“This looks wonderful,” he said in a cheerful tone. He wanted her to smile again. She’d been entirely too serious ever since they returned from their honeymoon and he was becoming impatient for her to return to her usual, sunny self.
He handed her a plate and then took his own. When he bit into the gooey cheese and the perfectly al dente noodles, and the savory sauce slid over his tongue, he moaned in pleasure.
“This is awesome, Ash.”
She smiled but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. There was still deep sadness in those big, blue eyes and it was twisting his gut into a knot.
As good as dinner was, he was anxious to get through it. He had a sudden urge to comfort Ashley and wipe away her pain.
She picked at her food and it was obvious she had no interest in eating, so he hurriedly gulped his down and then collected their plates to dump into the sink. “Come here,” he said, holding his hand out to her.
She slid her fingers into his and he pulled her to her feet. He took her into the bedroom, sat her on the edge of the bed and began taking her shoes off.
Crouching between her legs, he slid his hands along the sides of her thighs until his fingers palmed her hips. He held her there, staring intently at her, unable to believe he was about to make her a promise.
The business side of him balked and demanded to know if he’d lost his damn mind. But the side of him that cringed upon witnessing Ashley’s distress was urging him on.
“Listen to me,” he said, before he could talk himself out of it. “Let me see what I can do, okay? Don’t give up hope just yet. We have a few weeks. I may be able to help.”
To his surprise she threw her arms around him and hugged him fiercely. It was the first spontaneous show of affection he’d been treated to since before their marriage.
“Oh, Devon, thank you,” she whispered fiercely. “You have no idea how much this would mean to me.”
“I have an idea,” he said wryly. “You love those animals more than you love people.”
She nodded solemnly, not in the least bit abashed to admit it. Then she kissed him full on the mouth.
It was like baiting a hungry lion. He didn’t wait for her to pull back in regret. Didn’t offer her the chance to change her mind. He’d suffered three long weeks wanting her with every breath and knowing she was emotionally out of reach.
If this was his chance to have her back in his bed without a wealth of space between them, he was going to grab the opportunity with both hands.
He kissed her back, his hands going to her face, holding her there as he fed hungrily on her lips. Tentatively her arms circled his neck and she leaned into him with a soft, sweet sigh that tightened every one of his muscles and made him instantly hard.
He had to force himself to exercise some restraint because what he really wanted to do was tear her clothes off, haul her up the bed and make love to her until neither of them could walk.
“You have far too many clothes on,” he said, near desperation as he fumbled with the buttons on her blouse. It was expensive. Probably silk. But ah, hell, he’d buy her another one.
The sound of the material rending and the buttons popping and scattering on the floor only spurred his excitement. He fumbled clumsily with the button on her pants and then began pulling to get them off her. She lifted her bottom just enough that he could slide the material down her legs and then there she was, sitting so dainty and beautiful, clad only in her pale, pink lingerie.
She was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen. Hair tousled just enough to make her look sexy. Her lips swollen from his kiss. Eyes glazed with passion instead of deep sadness. And her skin. So soft, glowing in the lamplight. Curvy in all the right places. Generous breasts, straining at the lace cups, and h*ps and behind just the right size for his hands to grip.
He stood only long enough to strip out of his clothes. It wasn’t practiced or smooth. He felt like a fifteen-year-old getting his first glimpse of a na**d woman. If he wasn’t careful, he’d be acting just like one, too.
She stared shyly up at him and he nearly groaned. “Baby, you have to stop looking at me like that. I’m holding on to my control by my fingertips and you’re not helping.”
She smiled then, an adorable, sweet smile that took his breath away. He forgot all about trying to maintain an air of civility. His inner caveman came barreling out, grunting and pounding his chest and muttering unintelligible words.
He swept her into his arms, hauling her back on the bed. They landed with a soft bounce and he claimed her mouth, wanting to taste her again and again.
“Love the lingerie,” he said hoarsely. “I’ll love it more when it’s off, though.”
She wiggled beneath him and he realized she was trying to work out of her straps.
“Oh, no, let me,” he breathed.
He pushed himself off her and then maneuvered himself upward so he straddled her body, his knees digging into the mattress on either side of her hips.
Her gaze slid downward to his groin and her eyes darkened. Tentatively she moved her hands slowly toward his straining erection. Color dusted her cheeks and she glanced hastily upward, almost as if she was seeking his permission to touch him.
Hell, he’d give her anything in the world if she’d touch him. He’d buy her twenty damn shelters if that would make her happy. Right now, it would make him delirious if she just wrapped those soft little fingers…
He closed his eyes and groaned as she did exactly what he’d fantasized about. Her touch was gentle. Light and tentative. Like the tips of butterfly wings dancing over his length.
She grew bolder, stroking more firmly, running the length of him with her palm until he was little more than a babbling, incoherent fool. He was supposed to be in control here. She was the innocent. He was the one with more experience. But she literally and figuratively held him in the palm of her hand.
If he didn’t put an end to her inquisitive exploration, he’d find release on her belly and he wanted to be inside her more than he wanted to breathe.
Leaning down, her kissed the shallow indention between her br**sts and then nuzzled the swell as he reached up to slide the straps over her shoulders.
He loved the way she smelled. It was one thing he missed about the apartment now. Before she had little bowls of potpourri and little scented candles haphazardly arranged throughout. The entire apartment had smelled like…her. Fresh. Vibrant. Like spring sunshine.
Now that she’d gone through in a mad cleaning rush, it was as if her very presence had been expunged.
The cup of her bra slipped over her nipple, exposing the puckered point to his seeking lips. He sucked lightly, enjoying the sensation of her on his tongue. Underneath him, she quivered and her breathing sped up in reaction.
He slipped one hand beneath her back, reaching for the clasp of her bra. Seconds later, it came free and he pulled carefully until it came completely away. Tossing it aside, he eyed the feast before him.
She had beautiful breasts. Just the perfect size. Small and dainty, much like her, but there was just enough plumpness to make a man’s mouth water. Her ni**les were a succulent pink that just beckoned him to taste. He knew enough about her now to know her br**sts were highly sensitive. And her neck. Up high, just below her ear. It was guaranteed to drive her crazy if he nibbled either spot.
Tonight he wanted to taste all of her, though. He wanted her imprinted on his tongue, his senses. He wanted to be able to fall asleep smelling her, the feel of her skin on his.
Palming both breasts, he caressed, rubbed his thumbs across the tips before lowering his head to suck at one and then the other. He nipped lightly, causing the peak to harden even further. Then he slid his mouth down her middle to the softness of her belly, where he licked a damp circle around her navel.
Chill bumps rose and danced their way across her rib cage. She stirred restlessly, murmuring what sounded like a plea for more.
He thumbed the thin lace band of her panties and carefully eased the delicate material over her h*ps then down her legs and over her feet. Finally, she was completely na**d to his avid gaze.
He moved back over her, his head hovering over the soft nest of blond curls between her legs. Then he stroked his hands over her h*ps and downward. He spread her thighs with firm hands, opening her to his advances.
All that pink, glistening flesh beckoned. He lowered his mouth, pressed his lips to the soft folds and nuzzled softly until she strained upward to meet him.
“Devon,” she whispered.
It had been a while since he’d heard her husky sweet voice murmur his name in what was a blend of pleasure and a plea for more. It made him all the more determined that before he was finished, she’d call out his name a dozen more times. She’d find her release with his name on her lips. There would be no doubt in her mind who possessed her.
He licked gently at the tiny nub surrounded by silken folds, enjoying every jitter and shudder that rolled through her body. She was more than ready to take him, but he held back, enjoying his sensual exploration of her most intimate flesh.
Slowly he worked downward until he tasted the very heart of her, stroking with lazy, seductive swipes of his tongue. She began to shake uncontrollably and her thighs tightened around his head. He pressed one last kiss to the mouth of her opening and then moved up her body, positioning himself between her legs.
He found her heat and sank inside her with one powerful thrust. Her chin went up, her eyes closed and her lips tightened in an expression that was almost agonizing.
He kissed the dimple in her chin and then slid his mouth down her neck and to the delicate hollow of her throat. Her pulse beat wildly, jumping against her pale skin, a staccato against his mouth.
Her slender arms went around him, gripping with surprising strength. Her nails dug into his shoulders like kitten claws.
“Put your legs around me,” he said. “Just like that, baby. Perfect.”
She crossed her heels at the small of his back and arched into each thrust. Her fingers danced their way across his back, sometimes light and then scoring his flesh when he thrust again. She thrust one hand into his hair, pulling forcefully until he realized she was demanding his kiss.
With a light chuckle, he gave in to her silent demand and found her mouth.
Breathless. Sweet. Their tongues worked hotly over each other, dueling, fighting for dominance. She had suddenly become the aggressor and he was lost, unable to deny her anything.
She was wrapped around him, her body urging him on, arching to meet him and finding a perfect rhythm so they moved as one.
Sex had never been this…perfect.
“Are you close?” he choked out.
“Don’t stop,” she begged.
“Oh hell, I’m not.”
He closed his eyes and thrust hard and deep. And then he began working his h*ps against hers in rapid, urgent movements. She let out a strangled cry and he remembered his vow.
“My name,” he said in a breathless pant. “Say my name.”
“Devon!”
She came apart in his arms. Around him. Underneath him. He was bathed in liquid heat and he’d never felt anything so damn good in his life.
“Ashley,” he whispered. “My Ashley. Mine.”
He unraveled at light speed, his release sharp, bewildering and beautiful. His h*ps were still convulsively moving against her body as he settled down over her, too exhausted and spent to remember his own name. The one he’d demanded she say just moments ago.
He became aware of gentle caresses. Her hands gently stroking over his back. He was probably crushing her but he couldn’t bring himself to move. He was inside her. Over her. Completely covering her. She was his.
He knew this moment was significant. Something had changed. But his mind was too numb to sort out the meaning. Never before had he been so undone after making love to a woman.
It was supremely satisfying and scary as hell.
Sixteen
Ashley surveyed the guests as they filtered into the upscale restaurant she’d rented out for the night and felt the ache inside her head bloom more rapidly. She was so nervous she wanted to puke. She wanted everything to be perfect and for things to go off without a hitch.
She’d spent the afternoon at Tabitha’s getting hair and makeup done. Her friends had been skeptical of the look she wanted but in the end they hadn’t argued and then told her how fabulous she looked.
Ashley wanted…sophisticated. Something that didn’t scream flighty, exuberant or impulsive. This was her night to prove to Devon that she was the consummate hostess and perfect complement to him.
Her dress was, as she’d been assured, the perfect little black dress. Ridiculous as it sounded, it was the first such dress that Ashley had owned. For Ashley, wearing black was the equivalent of going to a funeral. It made her feel subdued and swallowed up. Somber. She much preferred brighter, more cheerful colors.
As for her hair, she never paid much attention to it and wore it down more often than not, or she just flipped it up in a clip and went on her way.
But Tabitha had spent an hour fashioning an elegant knot, without a hair out of place. Pippa had grumbled that it made her look forty and not the young twenty-something she was.
Carly had applied light makeup using muted shades and Ashley wore pale lip gloss instead of her usual shiny pink. The perfect accompaniment to the dress and hair were the pearls her grandmother had given her before she passed away two years ago.
She wore a simple strand around her neck and a tiny cluster at her ears.