Was she more sensitive? he wondered.
Sinking to his knees, he discarded the towel and gripped her hips, suddenly desperate to taste her.
‘Maxim!’ She grasped his shoulders, her whole body trembling as if she were in a high wind. He knew how she felt, every inch of his skin was alive and raring to devour her, the erection so hard it hurt.
‘What are you doing?’ she said.
He looked up and smiled at the stunned desire in her face. He ran his fingers over the seam of her sex—and decided to taste her another time. If he feasted on her tonight he might not be able to hold onto the frenzy building in his blood.
‘Making sure you are ready for me,’ he said, exploring the swollen folds.
She jolted and moaned as his thumb stroked across the slick nub of her clitoris. ‘I’m... I’m very ready,’ she said.
‘Bien.’ He stood and licked his fingertips then watched her pupils expand. He’d done his best to take this slowly, to woo her, but he couldn’t hold back much longer. Despite the need rioting through his system, though, he took in the firm mound of her belly—aware of the life that grew inside her.
‘Climb onto the bed, Cara, on all fours,’ he managed, his voice raw, as violent need sparked along his nerve-endings.
She seemed confused, so he took her elbow and guided her onto the bed, then rolled her over gently and lifted her hips. The lips of her sex quivered, swollen and shiny with her juices. He placed himself at her entrance, the sight of the thick erection entering her so erotic he felt dazed.
He slid deep in one slow, careful thrust, filling her to the hilt. Her muscles clenched around him, tighter than a fist, her shocked sob making his erection grow to impossible proportions.
He began to move, rocking his hips, out and back, to claim every centimetre of her sex. This part of her, at least, still belonged to him.
But as he plunged deep, took more, branded her as his...the words of the ceremony in the mairie that afternoon—words which shouldn’t have meant anything—poured through his mind all over again, this time binding, and true. Too true.
Her sex clenched around him in orgasm, massaging his length and triggering his own titanic climax. A shout was wrenched from his throat as his seed emptied inside her.
But as they shuddered through the devastating orgasm together, a disturbing thought occurred to him. She was his, but only until the child was born, so why did this need feel too huge to ever be sated?
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CARA AWOKE THE next morning to find the light shining through open shutters... And the bed beside her empty.
She’d tried to convince herself last night, as the afterglow had suffused her senses and Maxim had held her while she fell asleep, that all her fanciful feelings about him, about her marriage, were just endorphins. An industrial-strength hormonal rush which had only become more potent because of her pregnancy. Her feelings for Maxim, for this marriage, were nothing to be terrified of, because they were just a chemical reaction she couldn’t control.
But as she stretched in the bed alone, the luxury linen sheets like sandpaper on her over-sensitive skin, she couldn’t help fixating on the empty space beside her, and struggled to explain away the tenderness beating under her ribs. And the wave of disappointment... And longing.
Or the questions that bombarded her.
Where had he gone? Had he returned to his own rooms? Why hadn’t he stayed?
She pushed the questions back, tried to stop the tender spot in her chest becoming the hollow ache of inadequacy that had defined her childhood as she slipped out of bed and walked into the bathroom on unsteady legs.
The damp bath mat had been hooked over the heated towel rail and the bath had been emptied. Even so, the erotic memories from yesterday evening, his tender ministrations as he’d joined her in the bath and the powerful, passionate sex that had followed assailed her senses again. But as she searched the room for Maxim’s clothes, or any sign that he had ever been there, her confidence faded.
After taking a quick shower, she managed to find a pair of designer jeans and a pretty blue blouse in the wardrobe full of expensive new clothes in the suite’s dressing room.
She could hear the bustle of activity downstairs as she stepped onto the landing. The clean-up operation was in full swing. After wandering downstairs unobserved, she headed past the Great Hall and saw a small army of staff, busy packing away the remnants of last night’s wedding banquet.
The show was well and truly over.
She spotted Antoinette amid the mêlée.
‘Antoinette, bonjour!’ she called out, glad of the distraction. While she had no aptitude for social events, she knew a lot about housekeeping. And cleaning. Perhaps she could help? And it would take her mind off last night, and Maxim’s absence from her bed this morning.
Antoinette rushed over, looking concerned. ‘Madame, I am so sorry. Monsieur Durand gave us instructions not to wake you.’
‘It’s okay. I’m an early riser.’