Page 63 of Prescription for Sin

“I’ve been anticipating for hours, days, months, in fact. I’ve anticipated more than enough.”

“Imagine how wonderful you’ll feel because we waited one day.”

“I’m capable of feeling wonderful today and tomorrow and the next day as well,” he said, slowly rocking her hips on his lap. His lips parted, and his eyes were half-hooded. “I promise,” he breathed. “I shall satisfy you tomorrow, even if we venture deep today.”

“I have complete confidence in your performance,” she said coyly. “Even now, I’m…”

“You’re what?” He stilled his hands on her hips.

“Very…wet.”

He released a long groan and dropped his head on her shoulder. He suddenly covered her mouth with his and swallowed her chuckle. He devoured her, his powerful arms grinding her against his bulge.

“Everett… That hurts…”

The grinding halted abruptly, followed by his words of apology and tender kisses on her neck. “Let me apologise properly, Emma. Allow me to bury my mouth in your cunny,” he rasped against her ear. “I don’t expect anything in return. Ride my mouth, so I can taste you.”

She let out a soft moan. “That is a very tempting offer, but I still stand by my decision. Tomorrow.”

His shoulders slumped in defeat. “Very well, but we shall do it twice, if not more.”

Her laugh was bright and warm. “As you wish.” She moved to get up. “We should go to bed.”

“Same bed?” He couldn’t resist asking, enjoying the way colour rose in her cheeks.

“Separate beds,” she said firmly, though her eyes sparkled. “Show me where I’m to sleep.”

He took her hand, leading her upstairs to the guest chamber. But she tugged him in a different direction. “I want to see your room first.”

His bedchamber was as he had left it, masculine but elegant, with dark wood furniture and deep blue furnishings. Emma wandered the space, trailing her fingers along the carved bedpost, examining the medical texts on his nightstand, touching the silver-backed brushes on his dresser.

“Could I sleep here instead?” she asked suddenly. “While you take the guest room? It smells like you.”

The request, so innocent yet intimate, made his heart turn over. “You could have the real thing, you know.” He spread his arms in invitation, showing his teeth in his smile. He tried to keep his tone light despite the surge of longing her words provoked.

“Nicely done.” She smiled, patting his chest as she passed. “One more night.”

“Don’t mind me if I do unspeakable things to you in my fantasy tonight,” he called after her retreating form.

She paused her steps, and the back of her neck turned crimson. Feeling his cock swelling at the lewd image flashing before his eyes, he went to the water closet to retrieve his necessities. Avoiding looking at his bride, lest he hold her and never let her go, he walked toward the door.

“Goodnight, Everett.”

“Goodnight, my love,” he replied softly and closed the door.

He stood in the corridor longer than necessary, listening to her movements in his chamber, imagining her preparing for bed. Tomorrow, he reminded himself. Tomorrow she would be his wife, and he would spend the rest of his life showing her exactly how precious she was to him.

For now, though, he had a very cold bath to look forward to.

Chapter eighteen

Deep Touch

Emma smoothed her hands over the pale green silk of her gown, grateful now for Alexi’s insistence on packing “proper” clothes for the house party. The French lace of her chemise felt delicate against her skin, a secret reminder of what was to come. She had felt almost scandalised when her sister had presented it, but now its presence gave her a thrill of anticipation.

Mrs Miller, Everett’s housekeeper, fussed with Emma’s hair, weaving small white flowers into the golden strands. “There now, Miss. You look lovely.”

A knock at the door revealed Bailey, Everett’s butler, looking unusually flustered. “Begging your pardon, Miss, but Dr Moreland asked me to deliver this.” He handed her a small package wrapped in cream-coloured paper.