FromNowOn (6 page)

“You mean had I persisted you would have allowed additional
liberties?”

“No,” she said in a huff.

“Mmm. I still want to bathe with you. And do you know what I
want to do after?”

“Breakfast?”

“Yes, but not the kind you are imagining.” His hand stroked
over her rounded hip and he squeezed at her bottom. In her ear he whispered,
“And after bathing, I will carry you to your bed, crawl between your legs and
kiss you there until you beg me to stop.”

Grace gasped, squirming at the outrageous suggestion. She
wasn’t confused by his ribald proposal. Her body understood exactly what he
intended to do and she felt the answering wetness and achy want between her
legs. Lud, she was ready to shed her clothing and open for him now.

“Sebastian,” she whispered. She felt her eyelids grow heavy,
closing as she relished the sheer scandalous nature of his desire. Behind her,
he pressed his covered erection against her bottom.

“I never stopped lusting after you. Never. At first it was
seeing you with Hammond and knowing there was a better man for you. Then the
first dance of the season where you dressed not for the
ton
but for me.
Then the house parties where you made sure you were on the opposite team so you
could beat me and the Hammond House ball where you invited every single
ineligible
woman so you could watch to see if I would choose some lesser beauty so you
could stack accusations against me.”

“I didn’t.” She felt breathless knowing she was so
transparent to him.

“Yes, my beauty. You. It took me a while to realize why—that
you were hurt, and a little jealous and a lot in love with me. But then Hammond
was in the way and I could do nothing but watch as I grew more miserable for
missing my opportunity. You seemed to grow more beautiful. More radiant. I knew
you weren’t happy with him but it killed me to think you might be…satisfied.

“It is time to put the mistakes of my past behind me,
Grace.”

“Tell me it doesn’t matter to you, Seb.” She looked back
over her shoulder, her gaze holding his.

“It doesn’t matter and it never will.”

* * * * *

Grace called for her bath at nine. Sebastian was still abed,
sprawled on his stomach with his arms tucked under a down pillow. His sleep was
heavy. He hadn’t moved as she had untwined her limbs from his—understandable
after the night they had.

Even now she felt her face flame with embarrassment.

It started when they walked in the door. Her late arrival
had caused a small stir. Mr. Felix was about to send a few footmen to locate
her, the cart having arrived a full hour and a half before she did. Apparently
time frolicking in a meadow went faster than time ticking on a clock.

When she arrived with Sebastian, every man in the foyer
including the four footmen and Mr. Felix all cast sidelong glances at each
other. Only Felix dared glare at Sebastian. She knew her man was only being
protective and she prayed there was no grass in her hair.

Sebastian boldly proclaimed his intentions. Then he boldly
walked her to her room and came inside. The house would be in a quiet stir for
the next few days until they realized they would get to plan a wedding
breakfast, which Grace would have to attend to as soon as she was finished with
her bath. Suddenly there was so much to do.

“You can’t stay here. In my bedroom.”

“They know.” He shrugged as if it were commonplace for a
duchess to allow an earl to visit her bedroom in broad daylight.

“It’s still scandalous.” And mortifying and a host of other
words she couldn’t remember at the moment. Not when he swept her in an embrace
that had her reeling.

“We are going to be married within a few days. They don’t
expect or want you to be alone.”

After the footmen filled the tub and quietly left the room,
her lady’s maid knocked softly. Grace sent her away with a few instructions and
an awkward smile. Yes, they all knew.

She collected towels and selected a scented soap—something
new for today—and then slipped into the copper tub, submerging her body and
drenching her hair.

As she soaked in the bubbles to her chin, she reclined her
head and thought about last night—all of the delicious, decadent nuances of
being with Sebastian and being the recipient of his manly attentions.

He had made her watch all that he did to her, having placed
a mirror beside the bed. The candles were lit but there wasn’t so much light
she felt exposed. She had never known that beauty could be achieved by the way
light played on skin, the way hands moved in perfect unison up and down her
body and the sheer thrilling way they looked together. Naked.

The mirror didn’t lie.

And for the first time in many months, she did not worry
about her scars.

When she thought she couldn’t bear the touching any longer,
his hands skated down her body and between her legs. She couldn’t watch
anymore. Closing her eyes, she leaned back against him. His fingers—one of
them, all of them—did naughty things that had her gasping and moaning.

“Look in the mirror, Grace.”

She lazily peeked, unsure if she could even open her eyes.

He had spread her folds wide and she saw herself for the
first time. “Tomorrow I am going to have my mouth here. I am going to suck and
lick and eat all of you. Would you like that?”

“Gawd, Sebastian,” she moaned.

He pushed fingers into her and his thumb circled with
purpose. Her hips undulated against his hands and fingers until she broke, her
cry sounding like that of a woman in pain.

Seb breathed hard behind her and his erection had been
pressed firmly against her ass the whole time, but as during their afternoon
tryst, he had not taken relief for himself.

“I’m going to take you now. It will be hard and I’m sorry if
I hurt you but I need this.” He voice was low and throaty, sending pleasant
vibrations down her neck and a thread of fear that she had not seen the true
Sebastian Traynor.

He bent her forward; her head was nearly hanging off the
bed, but her bottom was still poised high in the air. She gripped the bed
covers at the edge but she needn’t have worried. Seb gripped her hips. He used
one leg to push her wide, to spread her.

Penetration was hard, fast and deep and she gasped when he
planted himself.

“Ahhh,” he moaned. “I’m sorry,” he gritted out.

He started pumping in and out of her, each forceful jolt as
deep as he could get. Only the first one caused any sort of pain and it wasn’t
really pain, only the press of a foreign object where none had been for an
unsuitably long time.

This was no easy, tender bedding from the night before. This
was a taking. As if he needed to devour her all at once.

Each stroke caused him to moan louder and longer. Grace
pushed back, meeting each thrust, and heard the slap of flesh against flesh.
Yes, she wanted him to take her fiercely. Didn’t ferocity imply a greater need,
a deeper hunger?

When her sheath started contracting he groaned loudly. He
gripped her hair, his other hand between her shoulder blades. His thrusts
turned to strained jerks, each deeper than the one before. Spilling into her,
giving her pleasure and something of his intimate self.

He wrapped his hand about her waist and picked her up before
rolling with her and tucking his body around hers. His arm rested between her
breasts. Neither of them said a word.

When he had awakened late in the night, he had crawled
between her legs and dipped into her body before she had even realized his
intent. It was a different loving—slow and languorous—without kisses or effort
or thought. He rocked in and out of her, bringing her rolling pleasure and
effortless pulsing contractions. After three fulfilling peaks, Seb was still
buried inside her, the gentle rocking of his thrusts lulling her to sleep.

He might have whispered to her. He might have used her body
for his own pleasure while she slept on. All she remembered wondering was how
it was possible to still love someone so much.

Even now, as she reclined in the tub, she would welcome his
hands on her again.

“More water?” Seb asked.

She nodded, somehow not surprised he was standing over her.
He hadn’t bothered with clothing. His eyes were still trying to open and his
hair stood on end. Another brush of his fingers through the unruly waves didn’t
help.

When he reached for the wooden-handled bucket simmering over
a low fire, he asked, “Why haven’t you seen about interior plumbing?”

“This is the wilds of Cornwall. Advances seem to find us
slower than the rest of the world. And why would I need plumbing when I have
you?”

“Saucy this morning, I see.” He emptied the pail of water at
the foot of the tub. She drew her legs up. “Could it be due to a night of
unparalleled pleasure?” he asked.

“It could be but I thought it might be because I had a naked
footman.”

He set the bucket aside. “Scoot,” he ordered.

“You won’t fit.” She glanced up to see he was ready to come
in behind her.

“I did last night.”

She laughed, gripped the edge of the tub and slid forward.
“Don’t spill any water.”

As he lowered himself, he said, “Mmm, slick and wet. Just as
I like it. And what’s this smell?” He sniffed at her neck while one of his
hands slid around her waist and dipped between her legs. “Meadow flowers?”

She gave him a slight shove with her elbow. “Behave.”

“And why would I want to do that, wife?”

“We’re not married yet.”

“Are we not? It is all but done in my mind. Where is the
soap?” He cupped her breast and kneaded.

“I have it.”

“Lean back. You are much too anxious.” His hands spanned her
waist and then he lifted her, settling her on his legs. When his hand cupped
her shoulder, he pulled her next to him, allowing her to nestle her head
against his chest. “Don’t tell me you’ve never bathed with a man before?”

“And who would I be bathing with? The vicar?” She rubbed the
soap in her hands.

“I guess I had envisioned— Well, let’s get to the bathing,
shall we?”

“So you won’t mind smelling like flowers?”

“Not at all,” he said. He cupped her hands and brought them
to her breasts. Together they soaped her body—sometimes with fingers entwined,
sometimes with his hands tracing patterns after hers. Grace melted under the
attention, her insides heating and her skin sensitive to the slightest touch.

Then he stopped and wrapped his arms around her—one arm
under her breasts, the other around her neck. He curled around her. He pressed
his lips to her temple. “Oh Gracie. I’m not leaving you again.”

Such declarations required that she consider Sebastian had
changed. He was no longer the brash young man who had swept her from her feet.
Instead he was strong and purposeful—a man with whom she would feel safe and cherished.

He loosed her and pushed up from the tub, grabbing for a
towel and drying himself with quick passes over his skin. He reached his hand
to her and then he lifted her up, carried her to the bed and lowered her to her
back.

He kept his wicked promise.

Kisses started at her lips and he rained them downward. Her
neck arched at the touch of his tongue. Her breasts swelled as he kissed and
caressed them with purpose. Her stomach quivered as he kissed a straight line
to the slightly protruding skin at her button where he then used his tongue to
bring about another laugh.

But where he was going was clear. What he intended had her
wet with desire and aching with want. Already she throbbed, feeling the nub
between her legs as if it were demanding his touch.

“Open your legs for me, Grace. I want to taste you.”

She gasped, even the sound of his words, his command to her
causing a weakness in mind and body.

His hands were braced at her knees—not so ticklish when her
mind was focused on one need. She resisted and he applied more pressure. She
also earned a glance from him that dared her to deny him. He spread her and
then urged her to open completely.

Having warned her, he now took what he wanted.

When his tongue swiped between the folds and slowly circled
the little nub, sending deliriously shocking ripples through her body, she knew
she could die a woman happy with life.

She wanted to urge him onward but each time she opened her
mouth to speak, he did some unspeakable thing that caused her to moan and
writhe as if she were out of her mind. Maybe she was. She had no control of her
body, even her thoughts were whispered in one-word phrases.

Yes. More. Seb. Please.

More.

On and on it went. Each crest was sharper and higher. Her
moans louder and more prolonged. Arching off the bed, she clutched her knees
against his shoulders.

She tore at the bed covers.

Three times? Five Times? Forever?

When the pleasure became so sharp she could not bear it, she
sat up braced on one hand. She spiked her fingers through his hair and pushed
his face deep between the valley of her thighs.

The swipes gentled and she came to her senses, feeling the
cool air against her damp hair and her face.

When Sebastian glanced up at her, his glare was still hot
with desire. It was strange that already she could read his sexual moods, know
he was not finished and know he needed
her
for his satisfaction to be
truly complete.

He scrambled upward and hooked his arms about her knees. As
he planted his arms, her legs slid down them, held in place at the inner crook
of his elbow. She was open wide and curled.

His cock was long and hard, jumping and jerking between her
thighs. She grew hot once again as she watched him cant his hips, lean toward
her and then plunge into her body.

For the first time, she watched with interest and with awe.
His powerful muscles rippled along his arms, his hips thrust smoothly and
between her legs, she watched with fascination as his cock pumped in and out of
her sheath. She got to see the whole man—every limb and muscle work in unison
as he entered her.