Her hand drifted so sweetly down his face that his heart stumbled. “Yes, please.”
When they kissed, her lips conveyed that same sweetness. He fought against the nearly irresistible urge to rush to climax. Never had he basked in such an extraordinary mixture of gentleness and passion. “Am I squashing you?”
“In a nice way.”
But passion clamored for its due. As the next kiss flared into hunger, the rise of her hips snapped the last chains of his restraint. He moved purposefully, claiming her with every thrust.
With a luxuriant caress, she slid her hands down his arms. “I can’t tell you how wonderful it feels when you move inside me,” she said huskily. “If I’d known, I’d have leaped into your arms that first night.”
His withdrawal was slow. “You like this?”
“So much.” Her long sigh of enjoyment vibrated to his bones. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she tilted her head back as if relishing every subtle shift of his body in hers.
“And this?” With steady purpose, he pushed forward. Her body flowered to greet him, and her low, keening sound conveyed sumptuous enjoyment. When she undulated against him, he nearly detonated into a thousand smoking shards.
“Do it again.”
“With pleasure,” he growled. He’d never meant anything more sincerely.
“Goody,” she said, like a child presented with a birthday treat. He couldn’t contain a gasp of laughter.
“Oh,” she said with surprise. “When you laugh, I can feel it. It’s…nice.”
Her artless delight in what they did filled him with wonder. And hunger for more of her. With a guttural groan, he began to move, going full and hard, crushing her into the mattress. Her fingers turned into talons on his back, and she gripped him with every thrust. The need for her to find fulfillment before he lost himself warred with a ferocious craving to pump every last ounce of passion into her.
He heard her breath catch, then a sobbing crescendo. “Let it happen,” he bit out, as his crisis built toward its release. “Remember the carriage.”
“I loved what happened…in the carriage.” The words emerged in bursts.
She clenched around him. He ran his teeth down her neck. She cried out, tightening like a mighty fist. Need rocketed beyond his control. As Jane quaked through her pleasure, the irresistible surge started in the soles of Garson’s feet, rolled up through his legs, and flooded like flame into his balls.
His hot seed spurted into her, and he made a guttural sound of release. Jane cried out and dug her nails into his shoulders, clinging to him as they tumbled headlong into raging fire.
*
Chapter Twenty
*
“Our arrival in Town is no longer a secret.” With a mixture of bewilderment and anticipation, Jane set down her tea cup and surveyed the pile of invitations that had arrived in the morning post. They formed a tottering pile on the mahogany table in her sitting room, where she and Hugh had just finished breakfast. During the three days they’d been in London, she and her husband had taken their meals here. It had the advantage of being closer to the bedroom than the elaborate dining room downstairs.
“We don’t have to answer them.” Hugh sent her a lazy smile from the leather couch beside the blazing fire. He wore only his crimson silk dressing gown and a loose pair of cotton trousers.
“That’s not polite.” She shot him a cross glance, although he looked so beguiling, lounging around like a lascivious pasha, that really she just wanted to haul him straight back to bed. They weren’t long up, although it was getting on for noon. To a countrywoman like her, that seemed disgustingly late.
Here she was sitting at the table, still in her peignoir, with her hair flowing about her. She’d soon recognized that her hair exerted a strange power over Hugh, and it was easier to leave it unbound if they were at home. Which they mostly were. He’d offered to take her to Astley’s Circus, and the Tower of London, and the British Museum, but so far all they’d managed was a stroll in Hyde Park that had quickly turned into a torrid kissing session in a secluded glade. She hadn’t yet seen the sights he’d promised to show her. Not that she minded. She basked in Hugh’s insatiable appetite for her. The woman who had once shrunk from physical pleasure was becoming a dedicated voluptuary.
To a point where she resented any time she spent away from him. Susan had called yesterday and badgered Jane into visiting her modiste, when all she’d wanted was to remain in the enchanted world she and Hugh created together.
“I told you society gives newlyweds some privacy,” he said with a careless gesture.
“It’s all very well to say that, but we’ll have to emerge some time, and I need help to get through all this as a credit to you.” She watched as Mathers, the butler, cleared away the breakfast dishes.
“If you want to be a good wife, come and sit on my lap,” Hugh purred.
When she caught Mathers’ swiftly hidden smile, she blushed. She’d noted that Hugh’s staff at Half Moon Street held him in great affection. An affection they seemed willing to extend to the new Lady Garson.
Once Mathers had gone, she stood and leveled a disapproving stare at her indolent husband. “You’re scandalizing the servants.”