Or maybe she drew him down. He wasn’t sure.
And lost in the moment, in the pleasure of her mouth on his, he didn’t care.
TWENTY-THREE
CHRYSTABEL COULDN’T believe she was in bed with the love of her life.
Well, on a bed, as he kept pointing out. And the bed wasn’t really a bed. Regardless, it was the most exciting thing that had ever happened to her.
Joseph was softly kissing her. One of his fingertips had found the bare skin at the base of her neck and was tracing a pattern there, sending tendrils of sensation everywhere. Exhilaration thrummed through her, making her feel warm all over.
Actually, warm was a weak word for what she was feeling. She burned for more.
She burned for everything.
It had all happened so fast. In mere days she’d gone from not knowing him to wanting him to learning he belonged to another, and now, miraculously, he was hers. Now she wanted him in a different way, with a fierceness she’d never even imagined.
More than three weeks. It seemed like forever. She pressed closer, parting her lips, trying to coax him into more than these soft, dreamy kisses.
Joseph pulled back. His fingers on the nape of her neck stopped moving. ”Oh, Chrysanthemum,” he whispered, but the whisper sounded more like a groan. She worried for a moment that he was upset and wondered why—but he didn’t push her away. Instead he just waited a moment.
Their breathing sounded loud in the darkness.
Then, quite suddenly, his hand curved around the nape of her neck and brought her mouth to his again.
The lips that had been soft and gentle earlier were urgent now, more fervent. He kissed her until she felt breathless, senseless, then his mouth trailed down to play in the sensitive hollow of her throat.
His lips felt so good against her skin. His tongue drew warm circles on her flesh, moving lower, delving closer to the cleavage revealed by the low neckline of her Christmas Day gown. Her heart raced faster as new sensations rippled through her, not only where his mouth teased her, but other places, too. An ache was building inside her, a most strange and wondrous feeling.
Wishing to make him feel the same way, she reached to unknot his cravat.
He lifted his head. “You cannot do that,” he murmured.
“I want to do to you the same things you’re doing to me.” The lace-edged fabric came untied, and she began drawing it from his neck. “This is covering places I want to kiss you. I want to make you feel—”
“You cannot.”
She stopped, stunned by the vehemence of his whisper. “Why?” she breathed.
“Because if you do,” he said very slowly, “I fear I may not be able to keep from doing more.”
Oh, was that his only problem?
Knowing he couldn’t see her, she smiled as she pulled the cravat free.
“Chrysanth—”
“Joseph.” Her mouth feeling suddenly dry, she licked her lips. Her heart pounded so loudly she feared he could hear it. “I want you.”
“You’re going to have me,” he said, his whisper sounding painfully forced. “We’re going to have each other. In three weeks.”
“It’s going to be more than three weeks, and I want you now.” As her fingers went to loosen the lacing at the top of his shirt, she realized she’d never felt like this before—like a wanton, truth be told. But then, she’d never before been in love.
She opened the placket of his shirt and put her mouth to his skin as he had to hers, tasting him, faintly salty and spicy, a heady flavor that was his alone. He smelled better than any perfume she could possibly create.
She heard him swallow hard. “Your parents would not approve of this.”
She kissed his neck and felt a tremor run through him. “My father is dead and my mother might as well be.”
“Your brother, then.”
“I care not what my brother thinks.” She kissed the top of his chest in the unlaced opening, then moved up to kiss his mouth.
“You’re truly bent on seducing me, aren’t you?” Sounding incredulous, he allowed a light kiss, but no more. “My parents wouldn’t like this, either.”
“Your mother might.”
“What? What do you mean by that?”
“What did your mother say your family motto was last night?”
She heard him sigh. “Interroga Conformationem. Question Convention.”
“Exactly. This isn’t conventional, but I think she might be all right with it.”
He was silent for a long moment, while she heard and felt his breathing getting rougher. “Well, she wouldn’t like this,” he finally said, yanking her against him and kissing her again, harder than ever before.
She was shocked for a bare moment but then let herself slide into the demanding caress. He plundered her mouth, tasting of warm chocolate and Joseph. When at last he let her go, she found herself trembling with uncontrolled desire.
“Your mother likes me,” she informed him shakily. “Your parents are going to be happy we’re betrothed. So why can’t we question convention? We’re going to be married anyway, so why should we have to wait? We’ll be wed in a few weeks, but I want you now.”
“If you say that enough times, I might begin to believe you.”
He’d made it sound like a threat. “How many more times?” she wondered. “A dozen? I want you now, I want you now, I want—”
He silenced her with another kiss, a kiss so fierce she wondered if perhaps he’d given in.
But then he drew back and was silent again.
It was a different kind of silence. She couldn’t see him, but she could tell. He was fighting with himself, she was sure of it.
“I cannot do this,” he said at last, his whisper sounding forced. “Not before we’re married. It wouldn’t be right.”
“Are you a virgin, then?” she whispered.
She thought she heard him choke. “My impulsive, impertinent Chrystabel. Is there no question you’re unwilling to ask?”
“No,” she said shortly. “Are you one, then? Have you never…”
“I have,” he admitted on a sigh.
She’d known that, of course, because he wasn’t at all
