Page 70 of An Inconvenient Vow

His eyes snapped back to her face, then the next thing she knew she was being jostled into his arms and Jeffree’s mouth was crushed to hers, one hand at her nape, holding her clamped in place and the other squeezing convulsively at her waist. She knew not if his kiss was meant to punish or placate, so rough was it and lacking in finesse.

His lips dragged roughly over hers, their teeth clashing. When he did not fling her away after the first suffocating minute, it dawned on her that he must be kissing her because he wanted to, no other reason. The thought made her head spin. Reaching up her arms, she circled them about his shoulders, returning the embrace in the hopes it would make him relax the strength of his grip. To be honest, she was not even sure he noticed.

Her hip pressed almost painfully into the chair back. What could she do? Mustering her nerve, she shifted her hands up and pressed them gently to his face. He halted, resting his brow heavily against hers and breathing raggedly against her lips. Sabina ran her thumbs over his cheekbones in a tender caress. The clutching fingers at her waist relaxed.

“Sabina…” he breathed, and she felt it right the way through her, coursing through her veins like a potent wine. Instead of taking the opportunity to slip away, she wrapped her arms about his neck and brushed her lips against his, gently sipping. Jeffree shuddered and stilled, his hand dropping from her waist and simply resting at her nape, letting her do as she willed.

“Kiss me back like this, Jeffree,” she whispered against his lips. He gave a muffled groan, then his mouth moved against hers, slow and tentative, reverent almost. Sabina swayed against him, barely noticing him tugging at her headdress until she felt the linen tumbling down her shoulders and falling to the ground. Then his fingers were sliding into the coiled braids, drawing out the hair pins and scattering them at her feet.

She felt her heavy braids unfurl, the ends brushing at her waist, then his fingers clutching and gathering them into his hands which moved fitfully over her back. Boldly, Sabina licked her tongue along Jeffree’s bottom lip. He froze, so she did it again, and this time when he drew in a ragged breath, she snaked her tongue right into his mouth and back out again before he could react. He made a choked sound, his hands stilling on her back,

“Again?” she murmured against his lips. Maybe he did not like it. The first time Miles had done it to her she had secretly thought it disgusting. It had taken her time to come around to such kisses.

“Again,” Jeffree repeated hoarsely, his hands urging her closer still. Then again, maybe not. She did it slower this time, savoring the sensation of his hot, welcoming mouth. He did not taste at all of honeyed mead. Mayhap Meliora had not offered him any refreshment as she had her? She wondered if he could taste it lingering on her tongue.

This time as she retreated, she sucked gently on his bottom lip, and he made a rumbling low noise which seemed to come from his chest, pressing his face closer to hers. He wanted her to do it again. She gave a muffled laugh. “Your turn,” she uttered against his mouth. She felt his hesitation, his uncertainty, and parted her lips against his expectantly.

He did not respond at once, instead altering his stance slightly, the placement of his hands sliding down to her lower back. When she finally felt the tentative foray of his tongue into her mouth, Sabina gave an embarrassing moan of mingled relief and satisfaction. Why had he made her wait for it when she wanted him so badly?

There was a clatter in the background. She rather thought the chair she had been standing next to had mysteriously overturned. Suddenly, there was a cold flat surface at her back. What was happening? She didn’t really care, because for some reason, she was sucking on Jeffree’s tongue and rubbing herself against him like an abandoned creature making whimpers and sounds she had never dreamt would come from her own lips.

In the back of her mind, she was astonished by herself. She had never been like this with Miles. So wanton and wild. During their betrothal and the early days of their marriage, she had been the shy pursued. Then had come disillusionment and she had retreated rapidly, revolted by his disloyal touch.

But Jeffree was not like Miles. He ground his hips against hers as she sucked his tongue and Sabina moaned into his mouth, feeling half-crazed with… what? Lust? She tightened her arms about his shoulders, wanting him close, needing him closer. He obliged, practically crushing her with his strength and she welcomed it.

“Jeffree!” Instead of the reproachful tone she should adopt, her voice was naught but a breathy gasp which spurred him on, rather than discouraging him. The gentle kiss she had sought to teach him had somehow become a hot slide of mouths. With a sense of bewilderment, Sabina realized her hands were now in his hair, sifting and tugging. Far from being horrified at his manhandling, she was instead wrapping herself around him with unbecoming enthusiasm. What was she doing?

It was the fact it was Jeffree de Crecy breathing so raggedly against her mouth that excited her. His big chest heaving against her own. When their tongues tangled, Jeffree groaned, and she felt that groan in the oddest places!

She was against the wall, she realized dimly when he finally jerked back his head to catch his breath. Jeffree had picked her up and pinned her against it, pressing his body up as close to her own as it would go. She blinked back at him as he stared at her mouth, a wild look in his eye.

“I did tell you there was a knack to it,” she joked weakly.

His eyes snapped to hers, but her words seemed barely to have registered. He closed his eyes and drew a shuddery breath as though trying to strengthen himself to some resolve. He was still trying to resist her, she realized. He was trying to step back, but could not quite wrench himself away from her. He was still trying to return to the convent, she reflected incredulously. Her bosom heaved. She would not stand for such treatment!

“Stay,” she urged taking a deep breath and trying to ignore how the action caused her breasts to brush against his chest. “My vow is already broken after all,” she continued striving for an even tone.

“Your vow?” he echoed hoarsely.

“Ne’er to remarry. You swept that one before you,” she reminded him and with great daring, arched her back, bringing her lower body into closer contact with him. He made a choked sound. “Maybe I should treat your vow with a similar contempt?” she suggested sweetly.

“Gods… Sabina,” he groaned.

“It is vain to struggle against it,” Sabina insisted. “Fate, it seems, had something different in mind for us.” His tortured gaze bore into hers but he said nothing, neither did he pull away. “Take me to bed, Jeffree,” she ordered aiming for wifely authority, but to her embarrassment, sounding more a breathless wanton. “Now.”

He shuddered again. “Sabina…” he groaned.

“As a husband, you have certain duties,” she added desperately, then almost smacked herself on the forehead with frustration. My gods, this was not the time to speak of duty! Husbands hated that kind of talk. She was fast losing all the ground she had gained!

To her surprise, she found herself hauled up into his arms and carried over to the bed. Instead of dropping her like a stone and striding from the room, Jeffree laid her down on the bed and stood staring down at her with a look of open frustration.

Words bubbled up on her lips that she had to clamp her lips together to stop herself from saying. Don’t go. If you leave me now, I will never forgive you. Somehow, she managed to choke them back, only to blurt out something even worse. “You need her blessing to bed me, then?”

Her audacious question seemed to rob him of speech for a full minute before he let out a ragged breath.

“Sabina, that is not—! Woman, you misunderstand me.”

“You know I hate it when you address me thus!”