His fingers moved down her spine, each touch, each breath on her neck sending a tingling sensation of awareness through her body. The garment began to slip down her shoulders and she breathed a little harder as her bare skin was exposed. With a swoosh, the dress pooled at her feet. The release of weight didn’t make breathing any easier. Standing in only her shift and corset, she felt naked and slightly embarrassed. How she wished she could be as graceful and confident in her body as Millie seemed to be.
Grayson’s large hands rested on her hips. Slowly, he turned her around. Standing in front of him, she was acutely aware of his body. Steeling her courage, she flattened her hands to his chest, her fingers curling into the crisp hair. Around her, his intoxicating scent swirled, pulling her under.
He stepped aside. “Sit.”
She obeyed and settled on the edge of the bed. His face stoic, he knelt before her and pulled off her slippers as if he were her servant. She fought her smile as warmth filled her soul. Not many men would lower themselves to helping a woman undress. His fingers moved over her feet, slipping up to her ankles. Meg studied her husband, suddenly wanting to memorize every detail. From the way his hair curled at his neck, to the scruff along his jaw line. To the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled.
Further, further, further his fingers traveled above her knee to her upper thigh. Meg froze, that spot between her thighs thrumming with need. He stilled at her garter and snapped them loose.
His gaze locked on hers and slowly, so slowly, he moved the stockings down her legs. Meg sucked in a breath, an ache so deep she could barely stand it, centered between her legs. She resisted the urge to squirm and bit her lower lip to keep from begging. She knew what would happen, she knew the intense feelings he would produce within and she hungered for the sensations. She needed to mate with him.
“There,” he said, but he didn’t move. His fingers remained on her foot, pressing, rubbing the arch. She closed her eyes and a moan escaped her lips. His fingers moved up her legs, rubbing, massaging as they traveled. She’d never had a person care for her so and found herself torn between sobbing and laughing. She knew if she didn’t stop him now, she’d never be able to and there were things she needed to say.
Reluctantly, she pushed his hands away. “Please, stop.”
He didn’t look upset when she refused his touch. Instead, he stood and moved to the side table. He blew out the three lamps that lit the room, sending the area into a shadowed sanctuary lit only by the full moon coming in through the open windows and the fire in the hearth.
Instead of giving her courage, the lack of light frightened her, throwing the room into a darkness where she couldn’t decipher one thing from another. Meg crossed her arms over her chest. She wanted to run, to hide, at the same time she craved more of his touch. Why was she so nervous when he’d already taken her virginity?
Because now he owned her completely. He could do whatever he wanted with her.
“I…I barely know you,” she managed, as he came toward her, a dark, towering shadow of a man.
He shrugged and sat next to her. “You know me more than most.” He wasn’t touching her, but she felt his body’s heat all the same and she had to resist the urge to sink into him.
“Yes, but most people don’t…don’t sleep with you. It’s ridiculous, really.” Her hands fluttered through the air like confused butterflies. “I mean to say, we are supposed to be intimate.” Her face heated at the words and she thanked God for the lack of light. “Be together for the rest of our lives and we barely know each other.”
“Come, settle back.” He took her arm and pulled her onto the bed. She was stiff at first, but when he merely settled against a pillow next to her, she was able to relax somewhat.
“I hate strawberries,” she blurted out.
“I’m sorry?” His breath was warm upon her skin as he leaned over to press a kiss to her shoulder.
Her eyes practically rolled back in her head. “Strawberries,” she gasped. “Too sweet half the time, too sour the rest, the little seeds get stuck in my teeth. Hate them.”
She could see him nod in the dark and was thankful he didn’t laugh. “I see.” His lips, warm and firm, moved to her neck. He kissed the same spot where he had fed only days before.
“And purple,” she barely got out.
He trailed his fingers up her bare arm. “Purple?”
She shivered at his touch, almost losing her thought. “I hate the color. Reminds me of a big, round grape.”
“I promise to never buy you a gown of that shade.”
His fingers moved to her chest, playing with the ribbons that peeked out from her corset. She nodded and folded her hands in her lap, attempting to keep them from trembling. “Thank you. And—”
“And you’re writing a book on wildflowers. And you like to stroll in the gardens at evening. And you take two lumps of sugar in your tea. Your favorite color is blue. You love apple tarts. And when Hanna talks of spirits and hauntings, you roll your eyes but you secretly find the stories thrilling.”
She stiffened, startled. “How—”
“And your birthday is October 17th.”
She met his gaze, wishing she could read his expression in the dark. “How did you know?”
He shrugged, as if they were discussing the weather. “I asked your father for your birth date. The others…I noticed.”
“Oh, I see.” He was interested… in her. The realization played with her emotions, made her heart flutter in a way she dare not investigate.
Slowly, he pulled on one of the ribbons at her corset. “April the 10th, in case you are interested.”
She smiled and looked at her lap. “I am.” Lord, what sort of gift would she get a man who had lived as long as he? “Grayson, how long do people like you live?”
He shrugged. “We do eventually die. It just takes more than normal to kill us. And when death comes… it happens fast.”
Which was why the men in the prison with her had decayed so quickly. Grayson would rot just as fast. She felt her soul sinking, their talk too depressing. “What will you do when I’m old and wrinkled? Will you still be young?”
He stilled. “There is a way for you to live as long as I.”
“Explain,” she said, her voice breathless.
He looked up at her, his eyes gleaming in the firelight. His face all harsh planes. “You can drink my blood.”
Meg stiffened. “You’re serious?”
He smiled, a half smile as he smoothed his hand down the side of her corset. “It won’t turn you, as the myth claims. You’ll still be… you. But it will prolong your life.”
Prolong her life? But how long would she live? So many questions rushed through her mind that she felt almost dizzy. But one thought remained at the center. “Grayson… I don’t….” Hell, she didn’t know what to say.
“Shhh, it’s something to think on.” He lifted his hand and cupped the side of her face. He started to lean forward. As much as she wanted to kiss him, Meg pressed her hand into his chest, stopping his actions.
“Grayson, can we…” Heat shot up her neck and into her face. “Can we… have children?”
He smiled, his teeth flashing white. “Yes.”
Relief brought tears to her eyes. Children. Children she’d always wished for, but never thought she’d have. “And will our children be…like you?”
His smile fell. “Yes.” They were silent for a moment, the flames in the hearth crackling and popping through the tense air. “Does that bother you?”
She shook her head, meaning it. Children who would not get sick, who would not die before their time. How she’d wanted children. Never, had she thought she’d have any. Never had she thought she’d truly have a life for herself. Here she was, married and discussing children. How very odd!
She hesitated only a moment, before she slipped her hand into his. She couldn’t see his expression, but when he tightened his grip on her fingers in an affectionate squeeze, she knew he appreciated he
r action. “I hate how puppies smell,” she continued.
“Hmm.” He rested his free hand on her stomach. Her muscles jumped and she stared wide-eyed at his fingers. “And do you hate kittens as well?”
Her gaze jumped to his face. “No, of course not. And…and I love flowers.”
“Yes, I know.” He played with the ribbons on her corset, untying them one by one. “Why?”
Ridiculous how he made her forget her thoughts, how he made her forget everything but him. “Why?” she gasped.
He wrapped her arms around her waist and pulled her close, nestling her body to his. “Why do you like flowers so?”
“Because…because they grow anywhere, everywhere. They thrive under the harshest of conditions and remain always beautiful and strong.” She was floundering, she realized with some embarrassment. But really it wasn’t her fault. He made her so very nervous.
“I see.”
She hesitated for a moment, wondering if he’d think her words silly. But he didn’t laugh, or change the subject. Feeling oddly empowered, she continued. “And I wish…I wish…”
“Yes?” His thumb began to make small circles on the back of her hand, muddling her mind.
“I wish just once in awhile I could have a day to myself. I wish I didn’t have to take care of anyone, not have to worry about anyone.”
He reached out and trailed his finger down the side of her face. She didn’t look away, couldn’t look away. She turned her head, resting the side of her face in the palm of his hand.
“You shall have as many days to yourself as you like,” he said leaning toward her. “As long as you leave your nights for me.”
His lips pressed to her forehead. Lower, to the tip of her nose. Lower, until his mouth hovered near her lips, his breath warm and soft. She lifted her hand, pressing it to his chest to stop his action. She realized she’d told him quite a bit about herself, but she’d asked him nothing about him.
“Tell me what you wish for. What you really want.”
He didn’t hesitate as he responded, “You.”
He cupped the back of her head and pressed his lips to hers. Slowly, he tasted her, caressed her with his mouth. Meg moaned and slipped her arms around his neck. Her breasts, heavy and aching against his chest.
“How I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you wading in that creek,” he whispered and pressed her back into the bed. His body, hard and heavy, weighed down on her, deliciously wicked. Oh God, she wanted more, she wanted him to touch her everywhere, to keep kissing her everywhere.
He moved lower, pressing his lips to her jaw then slipped down to her neck. Shivers raced over her skin. She arched her feet, her toes pressing into his legs while his fingers slipped to her chest, pulling at the laces binding her breasts. The corset fell open and she wanted to laugh with at freedom she felt. Finally able to breathe!
Then he cupped her breasts with his warm hands and thoughts of laugher faded. Grayson leaned down, his wet, warm mouth covering a nipple through the thin layer of her shift. Meg sucked in a sharp breath and dug her fingers into the bedspread. The ache that had been swirling in her body burst anew, throbbing between her legs. She would give herself to him, fully, freely if only to make that ache go away.
He untied the ribbons on her shift and pulled the straps from her shoulders. Her entire body tingled with awareness. Cool air caressed her skin, ticking her nipples. As if he hadn’t tortured her enough already, his velvet tongue darted out, licking a nipple before taking her breast fully into his mouth. Longing shot from her breasts to her womb.
Meg wiggled, whimpering under his touch. Grayson slowly pulled her shift upward, over her head, leaving her naked and panting underneath him. His touch was too much, her body ripe with need. Before she realized his intentions, his mouth was on her stomach, kissing a warm, soft trail down her body. Meg resisted the urge to push him away as his mouth moved lower, hovering just above the curls that covered her maidenhood.
“Open your legs for me, Meg,” his voice hoarse. “I will taste you.”
She shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut.
Meg tried to cover herself, but he pushed her hands away, and tugged her thighs apart. She couldn’t bear to look at him. Meg squeezed her eyes shut and prayed it was a dream. Surely men and woman didn’t mate this way. Then his warm mouth pressed to her inner thigh and the dream shattered into reality. Further up he moved, closer to her femininity.
Meg moaned, tossing her head back. “Grayson, please!” she cried out, although she wasn’t quite sure what she wanted. Nothing made sense any longer but Grayson. Grayson, the man who made her lose complete control.
His fingers wrapped around her thighs, holding her captive. Meg thought she’d die from wanting. His warm breath tickled her folds right before he lowered his head to that very spot that pulsed with a need. Her hands tightened in the sheets as she bit her lower lip. His tongue darted out slipping between the aching folds and she cried out, the shock of his mouth on her too much.
He licked and teased her very womanhood, his velvet tongue rubbing in a way that sent shivers coursing through her body. Dear God, she didn’t know this was supposed to be done, but she didn’t care if it was wrong. His mouth felt too bloody right.
But the ache deep within only intensified, a burning desire that twisted her womb. Meg moaned, pressing the side of her face into the pillow. And just when she thought she’d die from need, he pulled away. Slowly, he moved up her body again, pressing kisses to her stomach until her muscles quivered. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, needing him closer.
“I love you,” she whispered. Vaguely, she was aware of what she said. Vaguely she was aware of the way he stiffened at her words. But she didn’t care, nothing mattered but easing the ache in her body. There would be plenty enough time later for regrets.
“Please Grayson,” she whispered, as he hovered over her.
As if breaking from a trance, his mouth covered her breast. Meg’s fingers slipped into his hair, pulling him closer. How she wanted him like she’d wanted no other. He lifted away and rested his forehead to hers. His chest crushed her breasts, the crisp hair rubbing erotically against her nipples. His breath was warm and harsh against her lips. Meg’s lashes fluttered up. For one long moment, they merely stared into each other’s eyes, their breaths mingling as one. She could feel his arousal pulsing hard against his trousers, pressing hard against her lower belly.
“How wonderfully you taste,” he whispered, then pressed a kiss to her mouth.
Before she could properly kiss him back, he pulled away, standing beside the bed. She didn’t miss the way his hands trembled as he pulled the trousers from his muscled legs. He wanted her as much as she wanted him. Would the feelings ever dull?
Within a blink of an eye, he was atop her again. Meg sucked in a sharp breath, surprised by his speed. His warm weight settled atop hers and his mouth claimed her lips in a bruising kiss. Meg wrapped her arms around his neck, wrapped her legs around his, needing to be as close to him as possible. Grayson shifted and his cock brushed against the curls at the junction of her thighs.
She was more than ready for him, her body aching with a need that demanded attention. Her fingers skimmed down his back, like an artist, taking in the curves of his muscles, down to his buttocks. She cupped him there and in a state of complete wantonness, she pulled him up against her.
His arousal pulsed hard and hot against her folds. “Please, Grayson, I want you. All of you.”
The muscle in the side of his jaw clenched, his eyes glowing with desire. She swallowed hard and pressed her lips to his neck, smiling when she heard him suck in a breath. He made her feel amazing and powerful. Around her, his scent hovered, spicy sandalwood and male. She couldn’t help herself, her tongue darted out and she tasted him. Salty and warm. She felt a shiver raced through his body.
“I need you, Meg.”
“Then take me.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close. ??
?Drink from me, Grayson.”
He cupped the sides of her face, his glowing gaze intense, piercing. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, please.”
He leaned down and took her bottom lips between his teeth, drawing it forward before slipping his tongue into her mouth. The kiss was beautiful, but not enough. She wanted him inside of her. Like hard satin, the tip of his arousal pressed into her, tempting, taunting. Wet and hot, she was more than ready for him.
“Merde, I need you Meg.”
“Then take me,” she whispered.
He lifted his hips and thrust into her tight sheath. Meg cried out and arched her back, bringing him further, completely inside of her. Then he began to move, slowly at first, drawing out and back in, entering deeper each time and driving her to the brink of madness. Frustrated, Meg lifted her hips, rocking against him, urging him forward.
“Look at me, Meg.”
Her lashes fluttered up and she peered into his glowing green eyes. “You are mine,” he said, his voice harsh and unrelenting.
She cupped the sides of his face. “And you are mine.”
With his gaze on her, he lifted his wrist to his mouth. His lips lifted, those sharp teeth gleaming wickedly. With a hiss, he scraped his arm across his teeth. A thin trail of red blood seeped from the cut.
“Drink,” he demanded. “I will not lose you, Meg.”
She blink, startled by his demand. Her heart hammered madly. She knew once she tasted him, there was no returning to what her life had been. But his hard gaze left no room for argument. He lowered his wrist to her mouth. She wanted him for as long as she could have him. Meg gripped his arm, closed her eyes and pressed his wound to her mouth. His blood was sweet and warm as it swept over her tongue. Just a taste of who he was.
Grayson growled, pulling his arm away and crushed his mouth to hers, his tongue thrusting between her lips in a devastating kiss. She swore she could feel that little bit of blood sweep through her body, warming her veins. Meg arched against him, the pleasure only intensified, a spiraling desire that swirled deep within her core. With a groan, Grayson tore his mouth from her and surged into her, stroking her again and again. Meg’s womb tightened. The aching need flared, pulsing and quivering through her body.