Page 104 of A Rogues & Gentlemen Christmas

Chapter 10

“Wherein the bliss of a shared night, and the reality of a shared future.”

Grace was enraptured by her big, beautiful husband. She’d guessed he was a well-made man. No amount of winter clothing could disguise the broad shoulders and powerful arms and the long, strong legs. Guessing and knowing were two very different things, however, and when he’d stood before her, naked and aroused, she’d feared her legs might buckle.

She put her hands on his massive chest, the thick quilting of muscle twitching beneath her fingertips as she soaped his skin, and the liquid heat that had overwhelmed her as he’d pleasured her in the bath rose within her again. The place between her legs was hot and aching and empty, clamouring for him to make her his, demanding with such ferocity it was all she could do to concentrate on the job at hand. Yet she wanted to explore him, and to treat him with the care and tenderness he’d shown her.

It was difficult to take her time, so very difficult when she was eager to touch and discover. His chest was rising and falling with growing speed as she followed the intriguing line of dark hair down his taut abdomen. He shifted, restless beneath her touch, and she looked up to find his dark eyes glittering. If she’d not known in her heart that he was a gentle soul who would rather die than hurt her, that look might have given her pause. It was a little wild, something primitive and urgent glinting there that made her own heart thud harder still, and the throb between her legs kept time with it, pulsing with need.

She slid her hand beneath the waterline, and he groaned, deep and low, as she found what she sought and curled her fingers about him. He was hot, so hot and so hard, so large she trembled at the idea of him inside her, even as her eager body thrummed with exhilaration and impatience.

“Oh, God, Gracie,” he said, and she felt the power of the body that quivered beneath her hands, felt instinctively the tremendous force of will holding him still, allowing her to touch him as she wished.

She wanted at once, and with a desperate desire, to see that control shatter for her. Guided by memories of what she’d seen in the stable all those months ago, and an innate knowledge of what seemed right, she slid her hand down the hard length of him and up again.

His long fingers curled on the edges of the bathtub, clutching so tight his knuckles went white. Grace did it again and saw the muscles in his arms bulge, his huge shoulders set in a rigid line. She thought perhaps he was holding his breath.

Grace decided this was a good sign and carried on, picking up speed and watching with fascination as her husband’s big body trembled and he sweated and gasped and, at last, he shattered. His cry of pleasure was harsh and guttural as his large frame bowed and shuddered helplessly, sending a visceral thrill of desire burning through her like a flame catching dry tinder.

She let go of him and sat back, staring, a little overwhelmed by what she’d done to him. He was very still for a moment, breathing as if he’d run for miles, and then he laughed.

Grace felt an answering smile tug at her own mouth as he turned to look at her.

“Aye,” he said, his tone wry. “Ye might well look smug, ye little devil. Now ye know as well as I do, ye have only to crook ye little finger and I’m at yer mercy.”

She did smile then, and she didn’t doubt she looked smug indeed, smug and happy.

He stood then, the water sliding from him and making him look like Poseidon rising from the sea. Her mouth opened with wonder at the sight. He truly was magnificent.

She watched as he made short work of washing the parts of him she’d missed, and then he stepped out of the bath. He snatched up a towel and gave himself a perfunctory wipe down with it before flinging it to one side and advancing on her with a wicked glint in his eyes.

“Turnabout is fair play, Gracie,” he said, a warning note to the words.

“B-But that was m-my turnabout,” she protested.

Not that she cared—she was more than happy to let him have another turn—but it was a game, and she sensed it would delight him to have her tease him. So she darted away, giggling and letting the towel fall to the ground when he lunged towards her.

The room was small, and he was large, and she didn’t really want to evade him, so it was a matter of moments before he caught her and swept her up. Grace threw her arms about his neck and kissed him, still smiling as her lips touched his and he carried her to the bed.

He laid her down and settled beside her, gazing at her in such a way that Grace felt every inch the goddess he’d compared her to.

“My beautiful wife,” he murmured, such reverence in his tone that Grace wondered if it were possible she could fill the void his first wife had left after all. She hoped so, with all her heart, for she had fallen irrevocably in love with her husband.

His hands moved over her, his rough palms gentle and warm.

Grace sighed. “I love your hands,” she said, covering the one which cupped her breast. “I’ve dreamed of having your big hands on me.”

Surprise lit his eyes and she knew she’d pleased him. “I worried they were too rough. You’re like silk, Gracie, so delicate. I worried they’d damage your fine skin.”

She laughed at that. “Foolish man, I’m all a-tremble for your hands. They’re just the right amount of rough, and….” She shivered as his hand slid over her belly. “Quite delicious.”

His gaze was intent as his hand moved lower still, until he found the place which clamoured for him. Grace shivered with pleasure as his hand slid between her legs and watched his face as she heard his sharp intake of breath.

“Do ye need me here?” he asked, his voice almost a growl.

Grace gasped as he slid one finger inside her, arching and opening to him, to his touch.

“Oh, wicked man, that’s—”