Page 38 of What a Widow Wants

She moved the fine batiste nightgown to a nearby chair. She’d not need that before morning. Checking the decanter on the bedside table, she unstoppered it to discover an excellent cognac. They’d always wanted a libation afterward if possible. Matthew truly thought of everything.

Nothing else to do now but wait.

Restless, she wandered the room, peeping out the window into the inky blackness. No romantic moon tonight. Not that they needed one. Why didn’t he come?

A scratch at the door sent Fanny scrambling to open it. Hand on the handle, an inner voice cautioned her to be sure and she called, “Who is it?”

“Me.” The deep baritone sent a chill down her spine.

Thumbing the latch, she opened the door a slit and Matthew sped in, still fully dressed from dinner.

“What is wrong?” She pushed the door closed, turned the latch, and hurried to him.

“Why would something be wrong?” He took in her appearance from top to toe, his gaze lingering on her bare feet. Dipping his head he tasted her lips, his own holding a lingering sweetness from his after-dinner brandy. “Everything I see is very, very right.”

“Why are you still dressed? I expected you to arrive ready for bed.” Not wearing so many clothes it would take an hour for him to divest himself.

“I think I will be less conspicuous in these clothes if I am caught going from your room to mine. Wearing this”—he motioned to his formal attire—“I can plead a cranky guest needing some small notion from the kitchen. Attired in a banyan, no matter how innocent the circumstance, I will be thought on my way to or from a tryst.” He ran his thumb down her cheek, along her jaw. “And as we have not yet announced our betrothal, I would rather my future wife not have a scandal attached to her when we wed.”

Glorying in his touch, she rubbed her cheek against his hand. “Well, then, I am satisfied.”

Matthew chuckled and clasped her face in both hands. “You, my dear, have no idea of the meaning of that word. Yet.” Drawing her to him, he seized her lips once more, drinking her in until she gasped for air.

“Did you not eat enough at dinner, my lord? You seem ravenous now.”

“A different dish for a different palate.” He lifted her, set her on the bed, and slid the silk fabric of her robe up her thighs.

Groaning, Fanny fell back on the bed as his hands continued upward until she lay bare and exposed to him. Cool air wafted over her as he blew gently, ruffling her dark curls. His thumbs brushed through the thicket, stroking the flesh of her entrance and drawing a guttural moan from her. Matthew had always had an instinct for what a woman wanted.

“Relax, love. Allow the pleasure to draw the tension from you and allow me to give you the pleasure.” He spread her folds and kissed her deeply, his clever tongue touching her pleasure spot just enough to prompt another whimper. “Does that feel good?”

“You know it does.” Fanny wriggled her hips, wanting to push against him, but knowing if she tried to go too fast he’d simply withdraw. Still, the frantic pulse in her core spoke of a need deep inside her. Begged for its fulfilment. “Can’t we—”

“Shhh.” The shushing became a subtle vibration on her pleasure nub, sending her head spinning, her need soaring.

“Ohhh, damn you, Matthew.”

The vibration increased until her legs clenched around his back, her toes curling.

Slowly, he eased his thumb into her channel, circling it around her entrance while his tongue danced on that special spot above.

The tension began to spiral upward, bringing Fanny close to the edge. “Yes, yes, Matthew. Don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, my love.” The words were muffled, but his mouth maintained the promised contact. Then he withdrew his thumb, replacing it with two fingers sliding slowly and deeply into her, shattering her self-control.

Her body uncontrollably gripping him, Fanny abandoned herself to soft squeals of bliss until she sagged onto the mattress. Her lover continued to lick and stroke, until she ceased shuddering and lay boneless on the bed.

Vaguely she noted he now stood before her, but she was too busy gasping for breath, which gave way to drowsing once her heartbeat returned to normal. The bed dipped and she was sliding over to one side of the bed.

“It’s a chilly night, my love. Let’s get beneath the covers.”

Sated and unwilling to move, Fanny found her bottom lifted and the coverlet and sheets dragged back. Then she was underneath them, pressed to a warm, naked body. “Ummm. I like that,” she said, stealing her hand across his broad, sleek chest.

“Anything in particular?” The playful lechery in his voice helped rouse her from her passion-drunk state.

“Humm. All your parts are impressive, my lord.” She rolled up onto her side, staring into dark blue fathomless eyes. “However, I can think of two or three that are especially nice.”

“Pray continue. I am all ears.”