Free A Wicked Lord at the Wedding by Jillian Hunter Page B

time I look into a mirror.”
    His hand smoothed the muscles between her shoulder blades, caressed her ribs then her hips before skimming across her belly. She seemed responsive, but he sensed she was holding part of herself back. He suffered no such restrictions.
    She’d made him so hard that every drop of blood in his body had apparently rushed to his cock. He buried his face in the curve of her neck. He let his hand wander lower, lower, into heat, into the creamy hollow between her thighs. He spread her folds and pushed two fingers into the slick passage. Was she still only his?
    She moved her hips as if to guide his fingers deeper, as if every instinct he possessed would not have found the way without her help. She was so silky wet that he could sink inside her and drown.
    “Hurry up, Sebastien.” Her hips lifted from the bed.
    “Why?” He pressed the palm of his other hand hard against her mound. She inhaled sharply, her eyelids fluttering. He leaned down and kissed her mouth, capturing the little moan that escaped her. “I’m not in a hurry.”
    “Well, I am.”
    He laughed. “I’m not the kind of man who loses his girl at midnight, either.”
    “Did you bring a slipper?”
    “The same one you wore before.”
    Every night for the past year, as his soul had come back to life, he had thought of her. He’d been prepared for tears and anger, for the bedroom door bolted in his face. He had searched his mind for ways to appease her, for excuses as to why he had not behaved like a husband. Trust Eleanor to take his intentions by the throat and shake them into such an uproar that he couldn’t tell seduction from surrender.
    He surrendered.
    But so would she.
    “I don’t want to wait,” she whispered, pulling one hand free to walk her fingertips up the length of his shaft. He flexed his back, his blood pulsing in need. How he had missed her, missed not only sex but the intimate moments of laughter they had shared afterward in the dark. He craved that closeness again. He’d never been this comfortable with anyone else.
    “Not yet.” He kissed her ripe mouth. “Soon.” He sank another finger inside her, stretched her until she whimpered. “I might have to make room first,” he teased. He bent his head to her plump breasts. “What do you think?”
    “There’s only one way to find out.”
    “You’re wrong.” He drew one pointed nipple into his mouth, suckled hard and heard her groan softly above his head. “There are several ways, in truth. I doubt we’ll explore them all in one night, but we could try.”
    “You mustn’t say such things, Sebastien.”
    “Fine. As long as I’m allowed to do them.”
    She panted lightly. She scratched his shoulder again and strained and swore that she would never forgive him. And when he felt her arch, her back taut, he released her hand and held her through the climax that shook her. Her uninhibited release drove the limits of his control to a mindless edge.
    His desire for her intensified. He fought to subdue his most elemental instincts. If he unleashed them all at once, he feared he might lose his sanity, frighten her by revealing his darkest needs.
    “Give me another chance,” he said, his body anchoring hers. She looked so beautiful, so completely wild, that when she straddled him a few moments later, he resolved to give her the pounding of her life. But then she lifted her bottom and sank down upon his swelling erection with such unmerciful slowness that a groan broke in his throat. She was taking every inch of him into her body, sheathing him in fire. Sensation overwhelmed him.
    “I think the slipper still fits,” she whispered in a husky voice.
    “Do you think you can keep it on for the entire ball?” he asked, inviting her to try.
    She shivered as he thrust upward, giving her a little more incentive. “I suppose it depends on whether you’re dancing a minuet or a country reel.”
    “It doesn’t matter to me. As long as we’re together at the