The Valentine Legacy (Legacy 3)

“Yes.”

He released one of her hands because he had to touch her breast. The instant she was free, she made a fist and hit him in the jaw, so hard his head flew back. He grabbed her hand again, cursing.

She tried to rear up, but he was heavy against her. She fell back against the tablecloth, panting, shrieking, “You bastard! You lied to me. You made me think that it was all over and done with so I wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore. And now here I am, still both a physical and spiritual virgin with you standing between my legs, my ankles locked behind you, and you’ve ripped my beautiful chemise that Maggie gave me and you’re staring at my bosom. All for the first time, not the second time so I wouldn’t have to be all that embarrassed. I hate you, James. Damn you, let me go.”

“No,” he said, and he leaned down and kissed her left breast. “You’re not my damned little obnoxious sister, not with breasts like these you aren’t.” He shoved himself against her and she tried to struggle away from him. She unlocked her ankles and her legs fell down over the end of the table. She was sliding off, pressed so hard against him now that he thought he’d die if he didn’t come into her this very instant. Not an instant from now, but this instant.

It was more than a man could take. He kissed her other breast because he couldn’t help himself, then he reared back, pulled up her gown and petticoats, stared at those long legs of hers, now covered with soft white cotton stockings, tied mid-thigh with garters of peach satin. The garters matched her chemise? He trembled. He stared down at her.

It took him a moment to realize she wasn’t struggling anymore. She was just lying there staring up at him, watching him look down at her.

“You’re not wearing drawers,” he said. She was wearing only her peach satin chemise that came merely to the top of her thighs. He was shocked. Even Connie wore light muslin pantalettes that tied with pretty ribbons just below her knees. Lots of pretty lace trimming, of course, but they were still drawers and covered everything. He’d always enjoyed kissing up her legs, pulling those ribbons loose with his teeth, then slowly pulling them off her.

“No,” she said, her voice as thin as the layer of sweat on James’s forehead. “Maggie told me not to wear any pantalettes for thirty days after we were married. She said it would drive you mad knowing I was naked beneath my riding skirt or my gowns.”

“Why just thirty days?”

“She said after thirty days I was to do it only randomly, that you would never know when you looked at me if I was wearing anything beneath my chemise or not. She said that would drive you mad as well for at least six months.”

“And after six months?”

“Then I was to leave them off only as a reward. She said a man started showing his true colors after six months and needed to be handled with more guile. I told her I knew all your true colors already. I told her I’d seen you punch a stable lad who’d drunk a bottle of gin and slept next to one of your horses, that I’d heard you yelling your head off crying foul when someone better than you beat you in a race. I even told her I’d heard you belch, but that was just one time and you didn’t know I was there.”

>

“Good God,” he said, aware that he was but a pair of breeches away from coming into her, that her breasts were quite naked, and she was talking his ear off. He had to regain some semblance of control here. If he didn’t, he’d do something stupid.

“Jessie, be quiet now. We’ll speak more about Maggie’s underwear strategy a bit later. Right now, while you’re not looking at all like the old Jessie, I’d just as soon come inside you and get it over with. Would you like that?”

“You’re looking at me.”

“Yes. Your woman’s hair is as red as the hair on your head. It’s incredible, really, with all that white flesh of your belly. There’s so much of you that’s balm for a man’s lust, I don’t know where to look first. Now, will you bash me again if I let your hands go so I can kiss your breasts?”

“No, but perhaps later I will when I’ve had time to think about it some more.”

He released her hands, leaned down, and took her nipple into his mouth. He was flooded instantly with lust and warmth. He blew on her nipple, then said, “Do you like that?”

She didn’t say anything, but she grabbed his face between her hands and pulled him down to her again. He didn’t leave her breasts for a very long time. And even when he eased his fingers up her thigh, he still kissed her breasts. She was shaking. Surely that was a good sign. When his fingers touched her flesh, she heaved upward so violently she nearly knocked him off her.

“Goodness, should you be doing that, James? No one’s ever touched me there before. Only me, and that’s when I bathe.”

“Yes, I should touch you here every day, perhaps four times a day. At least I should be doing this to the new Jessie. Promise me something.” He lightly stroked his fingers over her, even as he looked at her glazed eyes.

“What?”

“You’ve got to stay the new Jessie, at least when we’re making love.”

She closed her eyes, arched her back, and moaned. The old Jessie had never done that.

He eased a finger inside her and felt her ankles lock behind his back again. “Yes,” he said, stroking her now, feeling the wonderful heat of her, the loosening of her flesh, that delicious arching of her back. When he touched her belly, then delved into those red curls to find her, she nearly bucked him off her again.

“That’s it,” he said, coming over her to kiss her. Her breath was hot, she was panting, and he didn’t wait any longer. He freed himself from his breeches and came slowly into her.

“James! That’s your stallion part.”

“Hold still, Jessie. Just hold still and I’ll come in really slowly. That’s it, just relax. That doesn’t hurt, does it?”

She was staring at him, watching the pained, utterly absorbed expression in his beautiful eyes. She tightened her ankles and it brought him farther into her.