Page 68 of Atone, Adonis

She entered the sitting room outside her bedchamber. She didn’t want to lead him there—a bedchamber seemed much too much given what she could guess about the Baroness and Fred’s relationship after today. She only wanted to go somewhere quiet where they could be alone.

Inside the sitting room she turned and wrapped her arms around him. His blue eyes widened for just a moment and his golden curls tumbled around his face as she ducked her head into his chest and held him close. That was enough.

“Dearheart,” he said and there was a ferocity in his voice she’d never heard before. “I want to kiss you.”

She started, unsure what to say. What she finally managed was, “Are you certain?”

“I wouldn’t have suggested it if I wasn’t.”

Julianna hesitated again but then he tipped his face, his beautiful face, down to her and pulled her closer. And it was her Fred who tilted her chin up with his thumb. And her Fred who closed the distance between their mouths, kissing her and kissing her until she was gasping for breath.

Julianna had forgotten how a kiss could feel. Not the mechanics of it, but the startling intimacy of faces so close together. Or perhaps, she’d never known what a kiss could be at all, because it had not been this way with Robert. She had not felt completely enveloped by his smell and his warmth and his towering presence. The rest of the world had not receded when his lips had brushed hers.

Four long years of loneliness cracked apart beneath that kiss. She found herself leaning into him, greedy for the comfort of his nearness, for the certainty of his hands and the steady beat of his heart beneath her palm.

And then it was her Fred who murmured, “Are you alright, Jules?”

Her Fred who smiled as if he’d been given the greatest gift in all the world when she answered, “I’ve never been better.” She peppered his face with smaller kisses then, on his cheeks, his chin, his lips, his nose. “This is my first kiss in over four years, and I am lucky enough to have it be with you.”

She watched the way his gaze raked over her, taking in her lips before traveling down the column of her neck to her collarbones and the top of her chest exposed by the bodice. It was modest enough, more elegant than daring, but she was electrified by the way his pupils flared when he took her in. By how hard it seemed for him to tear his eyes away.

And then he said, “It’s my first kiss in a very long time too. And it could never have been with anyone but you.”

“Kiss me again,” Julianna said, her voice as low and breathy as she’d ever heard it before.

“Gladly, dearheart.”

He pulled her closer, licking his lips while he did. He was looking at her so intently. So anticipatorily.

And then his lips were on hers again. Slowly at first. Almost sweetly.

Julianna felt the urge to speed up, to freefall into a frenzy of kissing and tongues and lips, but she didn’t. She wanted to savor these moments, these firsts in ages and eons for both of them. She cupped his face in one hand and held onto him so closely with the other, letting her fingers drift up and down his back.

“I want this, Jules,” he whispered to her. “I want you. So much.”

“You have me,” she whispered back.

His hands slid down her waist and rested on her hips. And then he pulled her closer, so that she was flush against him. So that she could feel the hard rod of him against her belly and her whole body felt charged. Needy. Her lips parted and he slipped his tongue inside, his fingers gripping her hard.

Fred’s breath hitched out of him and he groaned, just as he had done at the modiste’s shop. Julianna couldn’t help the noise she made in answer, some guttural grunt of wanting and pleasure. His fingers reached up and released her hair from its pins, dropping them onto the floor with little plinks she only distantly heard.

She arched forward as the heavy blanket of her hair fell down around her shoulders. He gentled their kiss, pulling back to run his fingers through it. She closed her eyes, the sensation of pleasure running down her scalp from his fingers making her sigh.

“Fred,” she whispered and reached up, letting herself do the one thing she’d been aching to do for weeks now. She slid her fingers across that thin scar she’d first found at the modiste’s and let the tip of one glide momentarily into his dimple before taking it back out again. She was right, it fit perfectly.

She found herself torn between wanting to kiss him forever and not wanting to go too far, too soon.

“Should we stop?” she asked as he continued to card his fingers through her locks.

“No. Not yet,” he murmured and dipped his head to kiss her throat, her jawline, the sensitive spot just beneath her ear. “Will you lay down with me, Jules?”

“Of course.”

He ran his fingers once more over her collarbones and the bodice of her gown. “Remind me to return to Madame Tremaux a king’s ransom for this dress.”

“Later,” she said. “Right now I’m quite busy.”

“So you won’t mind then if I remove it?”