Panting for breath, he collapsed on top of her, pinning her to the bed. Never had being squashed felt so divine.
“Forgive me,” he breathed. “I intended to withdraw as we haven’t discussed the matter of children, but you’re my wife, and I lost my head for a moment.”
He was still buried inside her, and she wished they could remain this way for eternity. “Nothing would please me more than bearing your child. You’re right, we’re married and shall find a way through the uncertainties.”
He bent his head, claimed her mouth and kissed her so deeply, so slowly, the familiar ache returned. The sensation made her writhe against him, searching for a way to prolong their joining.
Benedict drew back from the kiss and eased himself out of her body. “We should bathe before the water is too cold.”
“You bathe first.” She looked at the cut on his cheek, at the blood smeared on his face. She had almost forgotten about the attack, almost forgotten her thighs must bear the claret smears of her virginity, too.
Benedict hadn’t forgotten.
“Come, the warm water will prove soothing. If there’s room perhaps we might bathe together.”
She would make room. What could be more erotic than washing with her husband?
Somehow they squeezed into the tub. The rug near the hearth absorbed the water spilling over the rim. Benedict draped his legs over the edges to give her more room, soaped his hands and washed her breasts as she lay back against his chest. Every brush of his fingers across her nipples fired the ache deep in her core.
“Tomorrow,” he said when she pressed her buttocks back against his erection. Wedged together in the tub, she couldn’t help but notice. “After your first time, it’s too soon for me to ravage your body again.”
So why did he continue to massage her breasts with sensual strokes?
The answer became abundantly clear when he slid his hand down into the water and began rubbing her sex.
Now she knew why Mrs Crandall was desperate to bed him. His fingers worked magic. They slipped back and forth in the soapy water, each skilled caress drawing her closer to her release.
“But your knuckles, they must hurt,” she said, but that didn’t stop her moaning, jerking her hips and writhing against his hand.
“I never do anything unless I want to,” he said, pressing his lips to the beating pulse in her neck as he plucked her strings like a famed maestro. “That’s the luxury of illegitimacy. Now relax and think about the next time I’m thrusting so deep into your body you cannot help but pant my name.”
Heavens above! She came apart the moment the erotic vision entered her head. Waves of pleasure burst wildly from her core. “Oh, yes.” How she wished that moment was now.
“That’s it, love. Tell me how good it feels. Tell me how you long to have me inside you.”
“I can think about nothing else.” She would offer herself to him again and again. She could make love to him a thousand times, and it would never be enough.
“Good. As I expect we shall do this often.”
“You will hear no complaints from me.” She sagged back against his chest and closed her eyes.
They must have both fallen asleep f
or the water was cold when he stirred and shook her shoulder. She sat up, and he climbed out of the tub and padded naked across the room to retrieve a towel. Magnificent was the only way to describe his firm buttocks, thick thighs and broad shoulders.
“It’s late. You need a good night’s sleep,” he said, drying his body before offering his hand to assist her from the tub. “We’ll need our wits at Tregarth’s ball tomorrow evening if we hope to confront Purcell.”
“I’m sure your father arranged the ball just to prove a point.” No one in the ton would refuse an invitation to the earl’s soirée. Indeed, she was looking forward to seeing Rosamund and Sybil and was intrigued to hear more about Sybil’s developments with Mr Daventry.
“The hypocrites will arrive in their droves.” He began drying her body with the linen towel, and it took every effort to concentrate on the conversation. “No one will dare mention the incident in Hyde Park whilst in my father’s house.”
“And will the Wycliffs and the Trents be there?”
“Everyone important to me receives an invitation.” He took her hand and drew her towards the bed. “There’s no need to wear a nightgown.”
The desperate need to ask why came upon her, but fear of spoiling such a wonderful evening rendered her mute.
Benedict smiled as if he had access to her thoughts. “Do you mind if I share your bed tonight?”