A host of questions flitted through her mind, but she placed her trust in him and did as he asked. Her other shoe joined the pile, but he did not roll down her stockings. Instead, he pushed her skirts up to her waist and bent her knees.
“Don’t be afraid,” he whispered as he lowered his head.
Hot lips seared her thigh, leaving a blazing trail as he moved higher. Juliet batted at her skirts for the position left her exposed. “Devlin, wait.”
The first flick of his tongue sent her heart shooting up to her throat. Her mother mentioned nothing about a man performing— Oh, Lord! The erotic rhythm sent waves of pleasure rippling through her body. Devlin licked her, sucked and teased. She couldn’t help but thrust her hips to meet his greedy mouth. The smooth surface of the piano lid gave her nothing to grab. But then Devlin wrapped his arms under her knees and drew her to the edge. She could touch him then, could feel the scorching heat of his skin, the bulging muscles in his arms.
Juliet held on to her husband as the coil of pleasure inside wound so tight she feared she might explode. And explode she did. Her body spasmed and shuddered and shook.
“Devlin, oh …”
The slick sound of Devlin’s fingers entering her slowly was enough to start the pulsing all over again. The muscles in her core clamped around him. But she needed something more. Her breasts were heavy, aching for his attention. And oh, how she wanted to press herself against his muscled chest.
“As much as I have a newfound fondness for the piano, making love to you like this will not be without problems.” He captured her hand and brought her to a sitting position. “Let’s move to the floor.”
Juliet’s cheeks burned from embarrassment, but the sight of Devlin’s jutting manhood distracted her mind from all thoughts of awkwardness.
With his strong hands on her waist, he lifted her down to the floor.
“Should I lie down?” Her heartbeat still pounded in her throat.
“Let’s divest you of this ugly dress first. The modiste assures me she shall have your wardrobe completed by the end of the week.”
Juliet didn’t want to think of anything other than this magical moment. Many times, she had watched her mother rehearse for various roles. A good actress had a way of appearing confident, could tease and torment the audience. But Devlin wanted honesty, and that is what she would give him.
“I don’t know how to do this in such a way as you might take pleasure from it.” Juliet bit down on her bottom lip as she stood before the majestic figure that would put Hercules to shame.
Devlin’s gaze softened. “Tell me how I can make this easier for you.”
Her heart melted a little at those words. “Don’t give me time to think, time to panic.”
A sensual smile crept up his face as his eyes journeyed over her. “Then come here.”
He took her hand and drew her to his chest. His wicked mouth came crashing down on hers, so hot and wet. The thick evidence of his arousal pressed against her. Tongues tangled. The mood grew urgent. She ran her hands over his back, dared to grip his firm buttocks. The feel of his skin ignited a fire deep in her core.
And then he whipped her around, fiddled with buttons and stripped her of her dress. Her petticoat, stays and chemise soon followed. He reached up, his fingers delving into her hair, pulling out the pins until red ringlets came cascading over her shoulders and down her back.
“Good God,” he said as he stepped back to survey the sight. “I knew you were beautiful, but you take my breath away. I shall make my apologies now. Visiting your bed will be a regular occurrence.”
The thought of being like this with him every night flooded her body with a rush of euphoria. “Make love to me, Devlin.” She loved the way he had described the
prospect of their union. “Make me your wife.”
He took her hand and brought her down to the hard floor. “Sit astride me.”
Astride him? Her mother had only mentioned the crushing sensation when a man—spent and exhausted—collapsed on top.
Sensing her hesitation, Devlin smiled. “Your fear of horses has no place here.”
Juliet peeked at his jutting erection. “It is not horses I fear.” But then she saw the brightness in his eyes fade, saw the dark veil fall. She had said the wrong thing, the only thing that caused him to withdraw into himself.
Without further thought she straddled his hips, lay on top of him, her breasts crushed against his chest, and kissed him with every fibre of her being. She wanted the amusing and carefree Devlin, not the brooding man who called himself a beast.
Juliet tore her lips from his, placed a hand on his cheek and whispered, “I’m just a little nervous, that is all. But I want you, and so I ask that you excuse my trembling fingers.”
“Then let me touch you in the hope of banishing any anxiety.”
Hot hands settled on her waist, explored the soft lines of her hips, moved up to cup her breasts. Despite her short stature, she had been fortunate enough to be endowed with breasts ample enough to hold this man’s attention. Indeed, Devlin held her in place as he sat up to suck her nipples to peak.