Chapter 16
Damian gazed down at the woman who had entirely turned his world on its head. He had not planned to care for the woman he needed to marry. He had not planned to be overly interested in her or her world. He had not planned to desire her. None of this was according to plan.
And he loved it.
Years had passed since he had felt so entirely alive.
How she’d suffered. The thought still raged in him. There was nothing he could do now except treat her well. To treat her with respect. As she deserved.
But along with that respect. . . He was also going to show her the passion he felt. For neither of them were boring people and she would never survive another boring, plebeian husband. Of that, he was certain.
So, instead of insisting, as some men might do, that they wait, he pulled her tighter to his chest. He wove a hand into her dark curls and took her mouth with all the hunger he’d felt since the moment he’d realized what a damned gem she was.
She gasped against his mouth at the onslaught. But her hands slid up his arms, gripping him tightly.
Her kiss was astonishingly unresponsive. Kiss after kiss, still left her pliant. Suddenly, it hit him. Though they had kissed once before, this wild lovemaking was still mostly foreign to her.
Her husband had been an arse in almost every way imaginable.
Slowly, he coaxed her with teasing lips and the touch his tongue. Soon, she was kissing him back with ardor.
The feel of her beneath his hands was torturous. He longed to have her naked and on his bed. But now, he knew, he’d need to go slowly. To see just how bad it had been for her.
Gently, he pulled back. “Is this what you wish?” he asked.
She blinked. “I—”
Tucking a lock of hair back behind her ear, he urged, “Confide in me.”
“I long to ken pleasure. The pleasure so many of my married friends seem to ken. I fear there is something amiss with me.”
“My darling, you are what is right in this world. The rest?” He scoffed. “That is what is wrong. And I will do whatever I can to assure you know pleasure. Can you trust me? For that is a part of it. The trusting of another.”
She nodded, before whispering, “I trust ye.”
“Good. Now, would you be so kind as to take off my shirt?”
“I beg yer pardon?”
“Do you know what your name means?”
She arched a skeptical brow. “If ye’re referring to the myth, I am aware of my namesake’s tale. As a punishment for her mother’s hubris, she was tied naked to a rock. An offering for a sea monster. Luckily, Prince Perseus came along and freed her.”
“Indeed. All correct. But do you know your name’s meaning?”
She let out a tortured sound. “What can that have to do with me removing yer shirt?”
He smiled, his blood heating with anticipation. “In the Greek language, Andromeda means ruler of men.” Even he could hear the growing desire in his rough voice. “Rule me. Any item of clothing you choose. I am at your command.”
She positively gaped at him. “I thought I would be at yers.”
“Is that what you are accustomed to?” he inquired.
“Well, aye,” she admitted. The tone of her voice was turning to a purr.
“I do not wish to be what you are accustomed to. So, we will do this differently. You will be in charge. I am not interested in commanding you. I am interesting in being with you.”
The shock on her face was only by surpassed by a sudden anticipation. And then her face transformed as power and sensuality blossomed in her gaze.
“I have never undressed a man.”
He stretched out his arms. “I offer myself up for your study.”
“Shall I make great discoveries?” she teased.
“I am a modest man. And I will not answer that.”
Laughter bubbled from her lips. A sound that now sounded full and rich, as opposed to the broken, painful sound from just a few moments before. Damnation, but he loved her laugh. He loved that he made her laugh so often. It was never something he thought he’d aspire to, but he did. Oh, how he did.
“Modest, Damian?” she challenged lightly.
He cleared his throat. “Are you torturing me on purpose? Leaving me here, with my clothes entirely upon me?”
“Possibly. For I think ye do like it. The torture, no’ the clothes.”
Now it was his turn to laugh. A half-groan. “I like you. I like everything that you do. And I like to see excitement heating your cheeks red.”
The cherry that tinged her cheeks deepened. Slowly, oh so slowly, she reached out and seized his shirt in her hands. Working it upward, she breathed “Arms, if ye please.”
“Oh, I please very much,” he returned as he lifted his arms, helping her disrobe him.
The linen shirt whisked over his head and she tossed it blithely to the floor.
She was a goddess. A wanton. A woman of power as she stood before him, contemplating his torso.
Suddenly, he found he hoped she approved.
In all his life, he’d never really felt the deep longing for another person’s approval. But Andromeda? He longed for it. And that. . . Was very dangerous, indeed.
Andromeda could scarcely believe the turn of events. Standing here in the silver moonlight, gazing upon the sculpted chest, a chest as beautiful as any she’d seen on the marbles he had shown her, she felt strong.
All her life, she’d been strong, of course. But this was different. Now, she felt. . . Dare she say as if she were the captain of her ship? Nothing could stand in the way of what she desired.
The beauty of his face and body under the Scottish moonlight sent her blood humming.
Not only was his mind superior to any man she’d met, his body was, too. It was something to savor. For she’d never been so close to another man in such a way. . . Her husband had remained clothed and he’d. . . He’d pinned her to the—
“Andromeda?” he asked gently.
She swallowed. “Aye?”
His fingers lightly stroked her chin, tilting her head up. “Come back to me.”
“Back to ye?” She blinked, indeed feeling as if she were retracing steps from a painful path.
“I saw it. Just now. In your eyes.” A muscle worked in his cheek as he clearly tried to contain his emotion. “The shadows. You were wandering away in your mind to an unpleasant place. Come back. Be with me. Here.”
He held his big, masculine hand, roughened with the work of digging, out to her.
It was a gesture which should have meant little. And yet, seeing that outstretched hand urging her back from hell stopped her breath.
“I want to be with ye,” she declared, taking his hand. And with that, she shook the dark thoughts away and devoted herself to the task he’d given her.
Closing the distance between them, with her free hand, she worked the buttons of his breeches.
“I am grateful ye’re no’ wearing boots,” she whispered.
“You don’t think you could remove them?” he asked, disbelieving.
“Oh, I could. But even I ken the trickiness of a man’s boot.”
He laughed. “Not mine. I am not so silly as to require assistance with my footwear, though I know many gentlemen who are.”
“No pinched toes for ye, then?”
“I far prefer comfort.”
“Then let us make ye even more comfortable.” With that, she slipped her fingers into his breeches, finding the buttons that held tight clothing to his limbs. With a few twists, she was able to work the fastenings free and then she pulled downward.
The heady feel of being so near his naked body as he stepped free of his clothing made her dizzy.
As she cast his breeches aside, she traced her fingers up his hard thighs, past the gorgeous sinew of his pelvis and up his rugged chest.
“Ye are perfection,” she observed.
“Only in your eyes.”
Then without prompting, she decided to show him how perfect he was to her. She pressed a kiss to his chest and then another and another, working her way back down until she was confronted with his hard length.
Something, once again, she’d truly only observed in art. She allowed herself to look her fill.
Hard, upright and clearly eager for her touch, she marveled at the makeup of man.
A groan tore from his lips. “You torture me without even touching me. It is not fair.”
“Then let us have pleasure and no’ pain, despite the fact this world isna fair, my lord.”
Tentatively, she touched him and he hissed.
“Was that wrong?” she asked, abruptly.
“I find you as perfect as you find me, Andromeda.”
“How lucky we are,” she said, meaning it. Then she righted herself.
“I want ye to show me pleasure now.”
“Yes, my love.”
My love.
The thrill of that endearment was far more welcome than she’d ever thought it could be.
Clearly, taking her command very seriously, he swept her up into his arms and carried her to his bed.
She’d never been what one might call waifish. His ability to carry her with such ease only added to the thrill that coursed through her.
Quickly, he stripped her garments from her body, leaving her bare before him.
“A feast. A veritable feast.”
“Am I?”
“Oh yes, and I plan on devouring every bit of you.”
“Where shall ye start?”
His lips curled in a dangerous grin as he mounted the bed. He climbed over her. Kissing her deeply, he allowed her to become accustomed to the idea of a naked body being in the bed with her.
Then he lifted his head and left open-mouthed kisses all along her body. He paused at her breasts, swirling his tongue over the hard points of her nipples.
Before she could even truly think, he was parting her thighs. And his kiss was now in a place she’d only ever imagined in her wildest dreams from the wicked books she read.
The shocking sensations rippled through her. She could not breathe for the power of it.
Nothing seemed to interfere with his clear desire to give her what she’d commanded.
His tongue and lips caressed and circled until she was gasping his name and grabbing at his shoulders. The world suddenly splintered into mad, marvelous stars and she could think of nothing but the pleasure washing over her.
In her haze, she felt him brace his arms on either side of her. Then he was thrusting into her body.
There was no discomfort. Her body hungered for him and quickly adjusted, even though she felt a great deal of pressure as he rocked in and out.
As he increased his tempo, once again, she felt wild. Oh so wild.
He thrust deeper and deeper, stroking her on the inside. Damian caught her gaze. As he seemed to come undone and out of control, he growled, “I love you. I love you, Andromeda. Oh God, I do.”
And then they were into oblivion. Together.