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Compromising the Marquess

Page 45

by Wren St. Claire

Chapter Fifteen

During the ceremony, Jerome had refused to let all the niggles and doubts that had plagued him up to that point taint the moment. He had made a decision to embrace the occasion with all his heart and soul. He made his vows with deep purpose and intent. All the reasons he had used to persuade himself that Ava would be better off with someone else were swept away.

She is mine now. My wife to love and cherish and protect. He trembled with the power of it. He felt humbled by the responsibility of it.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, tightened the tie of his robe around his waist and pushed open the dressing room door and stepped into the rose-colored bedchamber.

Ava was waiting for him in a chair by the fire and stood as he entered. She checked her impetuous step in his direction as he closed the door behind him, his eyes drinking her in greedily. She was wearing a translucent white gown embellished with lace, and the rosy glow of the fire behind her outlined her deliciously curvy body through the fabric. Her blonde curls fell in a cascade around her shoulders and her blue eyes glowed; her generous mouth curved in a wide smile, her cheeks flushed a pretty pink. She is gorgeous. And all mine.

His memories of the night at Ravenshaw were hazy, his drunken state had left gaps and made the rest take on the aspect of a half-remembered dream. But one thing he did remember was the softness of her frozen little body pressed to his as it thawed out and stopped shaking. The memory stirred his body to life and gripped him with an ache of longing he’d been fighting for two years.

A surge of joy took possession of him as he fully and finally accepted he did not have to suppress that longing anymore.

“Jerome?” Her voice, soft and tentative, brought him back to the present with a jolt, and he stepped toward her.

“Ava.” She flew to him then, landing in his arms, hers sliding around his neck, and she stood on tiptoe to offer her face for his kiss.

He bent his head and pressed his lips to hers, a soft gentle kiss.

At least that was intent. But Ava’s enthusiastic response soon sent it spiraling into something far more passionate, like all their previous kisses. They seemed incapable of being sweet and tender. As if whatever pulsed between them was too hot and dark to be contained and would erupt with explosive force on the slightest provocation.

He broke the kiss to catch his breath and said gently, “Slow down, Ava.”

“Why?” She pouted playfully. “I’ve been waiting for this forever. Haven’t you?”

He hesitated to answer. Should I admit to how long I have wanted her for? Instead, he said softly, “How long?”

She leaned into him, pressing her breasts against his chest. “I’ve been in love with you since I was fourteen.”

“I thought you recovered from that infatuation.” He frowned.

She shook her head. “It changed. You were a storybook hero to me back then. I suppose I came to see you as a man more recently. But everyone was so horrified by my interest in you, including you, that I learned to cover it up.” Her cheeks were stained pink, and a shy look entered her lovely blue eyes. “When did you see me differently?”

His face twinged, and he put up a hand to stroke a curl off her cheek. “I fell in love with you at your debut,” he admitted. A smile broke out on her face and his heart turned over with love for her.

“But I knew it was wrong and tried my damnedest to resist,” he added.

“Why was it wrong?” She frowned.

His lips twisted. “For so many reasons, Ava. Ones I thought were valid at the time anyway.” Charis still haunted him, but he pushed that thought away. He would not let ghosts of the past ruin this.

“And now?”

“Now, I’ve surrendered. I love you too much to keep you at arm’s length any longer, my darling.”

“Oh Jerome!” She tightened her arms around him and buried her face in his robe. “I love you so much!”

He stroked her hair and pressed kisses into the top of her head, dizzy with the feelings of love and happiness washing through him.

She raised her head, and he kissed her again, a deep loving kiss that set his body aflame and made his heart overflow. Picking her up, he carried her to bed, set her down on it gently, and discarded his robe, then he climbed into the big bed with its soft pillows, white sheets, and rose-colored velvet coverlet and drapes. A perfect, pink bower for the woman who held his heart in the palm of her lovely hand.

He pushed her gown up, and she helped him get rid of it, her face alight with the warmth of happiness and adoration. Her curvy little body lay against the sheets and his eyes devoured her with desire and awe. “Beautiful,” he murmured, lowering his head to kiss her again and again, his lips running over her cheeks, her jaw, her neck, and down onto the white pillows of her generous breasts.

“Ava, my Ava,” he whispered, taking a perfect pink nipple into his mouth and suckling.

She squirmed beneath him, whimpering, and her responsiveness fired his desire even more. Switching to the other breast, he inhaled her lovely scent, rose water and Ava. He felt a new kind of drunkenness. Instead of whisky, he was drunk on love. Drunk on Ava. All the feelings he’d kept suppressed welled up and flowed out as he set himself to bring his wife the pleasure she deserved.

While his mouth made a meal of her delicious breasts, his hands ran over her body, caressing and stroking. His knee pressed her legs apart and his fingers traced down her belly to the sweet spot between her legs. The wetness that met his fingers made him groan as she undulated her hips in an erotic fashion that scattered his wits. His cock pulsed, stiff and hot against her flank. Ava, my sweet Ava.