“That ain’t meant to be.” He moved toward her, deciding some distraction was in order.
Namely, his lips on hers.
Her body stretched out beneath his.
His tongue mercilessly lashing her clitoris until she came.
She was frowning at him, another problem he needed to rectify. Along with the distance between them.
“Why not?” she queried, watching him with a careful expression. Almost as he would expect a mouse eyed a cat. “You have what you want. Should I not have what I want as well?”
Stubborn, daring minx.
He stopped before her. Her scent hit him, capturing him as surely as any snare.
“Who said I have what I want yet, Mrs. Sutton?” he asked, taking great pleasure in her change of status.
r /> No more Lady Octavia.
This woman—every part of her—was his. It was terrifying and exhilarating and the knowledge made him more eager than ever to have her mouth beneath his. He allowed his gaze to rake down her form, lingering where he wished. Her elegant nose, those full pink lips, the tip of her chin, the ivory wonder of her throat, encircled by hundreds of perfect, costly pearls. Her breasts, accentuated by the fit of her bodice and the way it lovingly clung. Back to her mouth.
Her lips parted. “What else do you want, Mr. Sutton?”
How good of her to ask.
Jasper settled his hands on her waist and pulled her body against his. Soft, supple curves melted into his hardness. “You.”
Chapter 7
“You.”
The lone proclamation, issued in Jasper’s low, gruff tones, shook Octavia’s composure. Or perhaps it was the heated stare he had given her. Or the warmth crackling between them like a roaring fire.
Whatever the reason for the leap in her pulse and the heady sense of anticipation unfurling in her belly, it was here. The moment she had been anticipating ever since she had signed her name on the register signaling her lifetime devotion to Jasper Sutton had finally arrived.
She forced herself to remain calm, to reveal not a bit of her inner maelstrom. “You have me. This morning made certain of that.”
His smile made liquid heat bloom between her thighs. “My darling wife, I have yet to begin to have you.”
He was sure of himself, not ill at ease in the slightest. She ought to be alarmed. This was Jasper Sutton, alone with her, looking at her in the manner she fancied a starving lion looked upon its prey.
And mere hours ago, she had married him.
Her hands settled on his shoulders, where he was broad and strong, her fingers curling into the fine fabric. He was dressed as finely as she had ever seen him. Indeed, he was indistinguishable from any lord. Except for the fire in his eyes, the possessive hold of his hands on her waist, the way he had pulled her into him.
There was nothing tender, careful, or polite about this man.
But despite that, there was no fear in her, not where he was concerned. There was only ardor.
“Mr. Sutton,” she began, then paused, uncertain of what to say.
She had read so many tales. Mirabel had attempted to give her an edifying talk prior to her marriage. Neither had prepared Octavia for this moment.
“Jasper,” he reminded her. “I don’t give a damn how proper married couples carry on in your world. I am Jasper, and you are Octavia, and I am going to kiss you now.”
Perhaps it was a warning, but those words felt more like a promise.
She tipped her head back, eager for his mouth, forgetting her uncertainty and vexation. And he fulfilled her every expectation. Here was the kiss she had waited for following their vows. His mouth, like the rest of him, was hard and yet persuasive. Skilled. He angled his lips over hers, and she opened to his tongue.