An intense surge of pleasure rippled through Elea nor as he lightly squeezed each nipple, but she couldn't bring herself to object. She wanted to feel his hands all over her body.
“Let me keep you warm, Elle.”
Her heart was pounding wildly when he shifted his hands. Sliding them around her hips to cup her buttocks, he pulled her firmly against his tightly muscled frame, into the cradle of his thighs. “Feel how much I want you.”
One of his knees separating hers, he pressed his arousal against her stomach, and Eleanor forgot to breathe. She could feel the rigid, heated length of his sex branding her like hot steel. And the thought of him moving inside her, completing her, made her heart labor even harder. She was overwhelmed with longing, the burning need in her loins to feel him driving deep into her, to feel his thick shaft filling her, plunging rhythmically… Which was precisely what he wanted her to feel, a protective voice warned in her head.
Damon knew how desperately she longed for him, how she craved his passion.
Yet she was stronger than that, Eleanor scolded herself. She wouldn't give in to his enchantment this time. She wouldn't let him win, wouldn't let herself get lost in the fire in his eyes.
On the contrary, she had to turn the tables on him. She had to make Damon feel the same unquenchable yearning for her, so that someday he would come to love her.
“Perhaps you are right,” she whispered, her voice an unsteady rasp. “We need a bed.”
Her apparent change of heart seemed to take him by surprise, but he didn't question her when she took his hand and led him to the bed.
“Lie down, my lord husband.”
Damon obeyed, climbing onto the high bed and stretching out on his back.
He looked starkly beautiful, sprawled there on the dark gold counterpane. Shadow and light roamed over him, accentuating the strong, sleek lines of his body.
Eleanor felt a fresh surge of primitive arousal just looking at him-and so did he, judging by the heat in his eyes.
She took a deep breath, though, bracing herself against her yearning, and placed a palm on his broad chest.
Feeling the firm resilient muscle beneath the warm velvet of his skin, she stroked him for a moment, her touch light and caressing, but then her hand stilled.
“Damon, do you recall how you always manage to fluster me by kissing me to distraction?”
“Yes, love.”
“This time I mean to do the same to you.”
Bending down to him, she took his lips in a long, sweet, lingering kiss.
Then despite her own yearning to continue, she tore herself away.
“That is all for now, husband. I told you, I am not interested in a marriage of convenience. However, if you ever think you can give me more-if you come to want a true marriage as I do-pray, let me know.”
With that she turned and fled to the safety of her own bedchamber.
She had violated Fanny's precepts with a ven geance, Eleanor knew, by declaring her objective so boldly, but she couldn't bring herself to regret her blunder.
It was time Damon learned just how serious she was about wanting him as a true husband and not merely a lover. About wanting his heart and not only his body.
Dismayingly, however, the choice was entirely his to make.
Sometimes, however, it is best simply to follow your instincts. -An Anonymous Lady, Advice…
The shout woke her from a restless sleep.
Her heart thudding in alarm, Eleanor sat up in bed and searched the darkness, wondering what had startled her awake.
The hoarse shout came again from Damon's bedchamber, muffled by the closed door between their rooms. Springing out of bed, Eleanor quickly lit a candle and hurried to unlock their connecting door.
By the time she reached Damon's bedside, his shouts had turned to a low, moaning sound. He was thrashing in his sleep, obviously in the throes of a nightmare.