If only he could keep them at bay longer.
Sarah huffed. Golden flecks swam in the dark brown depths of her irises. “After being gone for nearly twelve hours, you expect me to do… that… with you now?”
“I do.” Awareness shivered over his skin. Pushing her to the point of annoyance left him heated and randy. “Yet you were waiting for me, in my bed I might add, to do just that.” As she glared, he gripped her hips and drew her flush to his body. Damn, but she felt good. “Tell me you don’t want me, Sarah, and I’ll go.”
“Why must you act so bothersome?” Her hands drifted up his chest. The heat of her seeped through the fine lawn of his shirt, made him crave more of her.
He stared at her lips before meeting her eyes. “As you said earlier today of yourself, I can only be who I am as well.” Then he claimed her lips in a kiss that hopefully left no doubt in her mind that he wanted her. Those petal soft pieces of flesh cradled his, stoked his hunger. He wanted her naked and writhing beneath him, and soon. When he ended the kiss, she pulled away, her spectacle lenses steamed, her breathing slightly labored.
“I’m cross with you.” Some of the bite had faded from her tone.
“You have a lifetime to berate me.” Though the words were said in jest, he couldn’t quell the rising anger, for he would always come up short in her expectations, would always disappoint her. Sooner or later she would resent him for it.
Everyone did.
“Then show me that my ire is displaced.” Her eyes darkened with the same desire coursing through his veins. She pulled lightly on his cravat. “Show me that your absence wasn’t because you’ve made a mistake in marrying me.” Insecurity popped in her eyes. “Show me that we at least have a chance.” The quiver in her voice slammed into him and brought a wave of guilt, but it also brought out a surge of compassion.
Was she as terrified as he?
It wouldn’t do to grow too fond of her, so he shoved the thought away. A tug on the ribbons at the front of her robe had the garment gaping. As he shoved it from her shoulders and it pooled on the floor at their feet and her breath caught from a mere touch, he knew what he must do. He had to make her hate him, or at the very least keep her at arm’s length, so that when she left him, gave up on him due to his brokenness and his demons, it wouldn’t hurt as much as when his family had done the same. “I’ll show you something and you can decide what it means.”
I can’t feel one more thing or I’ll break.God only knew if he’d come out sane at the other side. Part of him wanted to reach out for her help, to plead for it, but his damned pride kept him silent.
Sarah laid a palm against his cheek. It took all his willpower not to nuzzle into her hand. “I don’t wish to do this if you’re incensed.” One of her eyebrows lifted in a challenge. “Leave that anger. Stop holding onto it, for it’s doing you no good. You’re better than that.”
“If I were, I wouldn’t feel so shattered. Earls don’t outwardly do anything to appear weak.” Not wanting to indulge in conversation that might lead to introspection, Drew tangled his fingers in the golden curtain of her hair, lightly pulled until her head tipped back, and then he kissed her—hard. He devoured her lips, cupped her head in his hands through those tresses and held her still while he plundered her mouth as if he couldn’t have enough of her. He thrust his tongue inside to bully hers with rhythmic strokes. Answering pulses rolled through his hardened length. Vaguely, he became aware of her palms pushing at his chest, and when she shoved, breaking the punishing embrace, he gasped for breath.
Even while attempting a kiss, anxiety wouldn’t relent.
“What the devil is wrong with you?” Sarah narrowed her eyes. “I know you’re capable of acting like a gentleman instead of a brute.”
Except she hardly knew him or how much more beastly he could be.
Yet he wanted her approval, craved it, hoped that she’d like him for the man that he was. He wiped the moisture from his mouth. “I apologize.” Would he forever muck things up due to the damned anger that wouldn’t leave him alone?
Sarah’s expression softened slightly. “It’s all right. Try again.” She tugged on his cravat, unwinding it until the length of fabric fell away along with his collar. “I may be your wife, but that doesn’t mean you should ever stop attempting to woo me.”
The logic was sound. Even if they’d signed a contract that never made allowances for love or even romance, there was no reason he couldn’t charm her. “I’ll try.” But if he did that, then she wouldn’t grow to hate him. It was a conundrum—please her or fall apart when she left.
This time, as he took her into his arms, he set out to make the kiss more tender, more pleasant. He finessed his way over her lips, exploring, asking, introducing, and when she followed his lead, his shaft pulsed with appreciation. Dear God, she was soft and silky as he caressed his hands up and down her bare arms, yet he knew from prior acquaintance she possessed a will of iron that didn’t bend when confronted with his ire.
You basically paid her to marry you. The woman won’t stay with you once you finally snap.His damned anxiety wouldn’t shut up, and no matter how erotic the sounds of enjoyment Sarah made at the back of her throat or how sweet the touch of her hands as she explored his shoulders, he couldn’t banish that destructive little voice at the back of his mind. You aren’t worthy of love. How could you be?
Anger mounted, for himself as well as the situation. He growled and wrenched away from her. When she murmured something unintelligible, he grabbed the hem of her nearly transparent nightgown, and in the process of yanking it up and off her body, the fabric tore.
“Oh, no!” The exclamation couldn’t break through the waves of anger roiling through him. “Andrew, be careful. I bought this so I’d look pretty for you tonight.” She hung to the garment, clutching the ruined fabric to her breasts.
Of course, he was destructive; beasts usually were. He hated himself, and that made him feel even worse. “Would me giving you empty compliments make any of this better?”
Hurt stamped across her expression. She cried out when he tugged the nightgown from her fingers and tossed it away. “Well, it can’t make it worse, can it?” Those damned narrowed eyes and her ire fed his own. “This is hardly what I expected on my wedding night.”
“On that, you and I agree, but isn’t this what be both agreed to, this begetting an heir?” They’d never discussed love or romance, so why should he make an effort? With his state of mind, he couldn’t focus properly on the slender length of her body or how perfect her breasts were with their hardened rosy pink tips. Or how the thatch of blonde hair at her thighs was distracting as all hell.
No, the only thing he could focus on was the rampant lust that blinded him and the anger that clawed through his insides in a bit to tear him apart. The longer he stared at her body, the more visibly shy she grew. When she attempted to shield herself with her hands, he snatched at them. “No, countess, these belong to me.” And cad that he was, he cupped her breasts, kneaded them, smashed them together. Perfect indeed. Not overly large or small, they filled his palms as if she were made especially for him, but he didn’t pause to properly worship them. Not when his mind was plagued with doubts and his chest felt tighter with each drawn breath thanks to the bloody anxiety.
Confusion and apprehension filled Sarah’s eyes, slightly magnified behind the lenses of her spectacles. “Please, be gentle. I haven’t—”
“Hush. I know.” He dipped his head and took a pebbled nipple into his mouth.